by Sarah Morgan
When Geovana finally released her only to kiss her on both cheeks, Taylor felt confused, raw and vulnerable.
‘She likes you,’ Luca said in a flat drawl, ‘that’s a compliment. Come on, I’ll show you to our bedroom suite.’
Our bedroom? She decided to ignore that until they were alone. ‘Doesn’t she usually like your girlfriends?’
‘She’s never met any of them.’ Taking her hand, Luca strode into the house as if he owned it, crossed the beautiful, light-filled entrance hall and up a curved staircase.
‘Why hasn’t she met any of them?’ Taylor tugged at her hand but he didn’t release her. His fingers were cool and strong. ‘I assumed this hotel is one of your regular sex hideouts. Or do you smuggle your women in and out through the window?’ She tugged at her hand, harder this time, and this time he released her.
Relief flowed through her and she promised herself that from now on she’d keep a physical distance from him. No touching. She had enough problems without adding to them.
‘This isn’t a hotel.’ He pushed open a door and walked into a room that took her breath away. Through the open French doors the view stretched across a garden to a vineyard and, beyond that, in the distance, the towering peak of Mount Etna.
Taylor decided she’d never seen a more perfect view in her life. ‘Wow. You have an eye for beauty, I’ll give you that. It’s stunning. And so private.’ Reluctantly, she dragged her eyes from the view to look at him. ‘If this isn’t a hotel, then what is it?’
‘It’s my home.’ He shrugged off his jacket and removed his tie. ‘And I don’t bring women here, so don’t get too comfortable. Strictly speaking I should have blindfolded you before I brought you to my private lair.’
‘Why don’t you bring women here?’
‘Because my home is a place to relax and women are exhausting.’ He strolled across the sunlit room and placed his cufflinks in a dish on the nightstand, ‘From their uncanny ability to misinterpret everything a man says or does, to their endless demands for reassurance, including such well-loved phrases as “Does this dress make me look fat?” and—every man’s favourite—“What are you thinking?”’
‘Yeah, that must be a tough one for a guy like you who never bothers thinking. If you had bothered to think you wouldn’t have messed up so badly with Portia.’ She used sarcasm to cover up the way he made her feel. It wasn’t just the sexual chemistry that terrified her, it was the buzz she had from talking to him.
‘I didn’t mess up with Portia. That relationship ended precisely when I intended it to. I consider that to be a success.’
‘But if you’d ended it more thoughtfully we wouldn’t be in this position.’
‘In what position? Suddenly we’re both respectable. It’s a miracle.’ With a complete lack of self-consciousness he undid the rest of the buttons of his shirt, allowing it to fall open. His trousers rode low on his lean hips, revealing toned, male abs, and Taylor averted her eyes, ignoring the dangerous curl of warmth that spread through her body.
‘Thanks, but I can live without the striptease.’
‘Is it bothering you?’
Exasperation mingled with a much more dangerous emotion. ‘No, it isn’t bothering me. But I’m the sort of person who needs personal space. We should have stayed at my hotel.’ The glimpse had been brief, but the image of his bronzed, fit body was seared onto her brain. ‘I have a suite with two rooms.’
‘I can’t stand hotels.’
‘And yet you want to run the family business?’
‘That’s different.’ He shrugged, his tone bored. ‘That’s just about proving a point. And if we’re going to be engaged then I need space too. I’m not good at being trapped with a woman.’
But now they were both trapped and he was looking at her, assessing her with that lazy, sexy stare that was so much a part of him until she felt as if her skin might catch fire.
Desperately, she steered the subject onto safer ground. ‘So tell me about Geovana.’ She thought about the warmth the other woman had shown her. ‘Why did she hug me so tightly? When I said I was pleased to be here, she almost strangled me.’
‘That’s because you didn’t say you were pleased to be here. You said you were so in love with me it’s driving you crazy.’
She gaped at him. ‘I said what you told me to say.’
‘Yes. And you were remarkably fluent. Very impressive for a non-Italian speaker.’
Mouth tightening, she tapped her foot on the floor. ‘I suppose you think that’s really funny. Like teaching a toddler to use rude words.’
‘Since I don’t intend to ever marry, that’s an experience I’m not going to be in a position to comment on but strangely enough I didn’t do it to be funny. I did it because we’re supposed to be engaged. You’re not the only one who can act a part when required.’
‘That’s why she hugged me? Because I told her I was crazy about you?’
‘So it would seem.’ A ghost of a smile touched his mouth. ‘Today is probably the happiest day of her life. Geovana had given up on seeing me bring a woman home.’
‘Because no woman would put up with you.’ But part of her wondered whether there was a deeper reason for his aversion to marriage. Her instincts told her there was more to it than simply a love of a playboy lifestyle. ‘Have you known her a long time?’
‘Since I was five years old.’
Taylor felt a twinge of envy at the warmth of his relationship with the woman.
She didn’t have anyone in her life she was close to. No one she could trust as Luca clearly trusted Geovana. It was obvious that the older woman adored him.
‘How did you meet her?’ She asked the question as they walked up the stairs towards the bedroom.
‘She was our nanny until my mother fired her in a fit of jealousy.’
‘You had a nanny?’ She bit her tongue. Of course he’d had a nanny. He came from a rich family. He hadn’t been used as the breadwinner by an ambitious mother while he was still in nappies. ‘Did your mother work?’
‘It was a full-time job trying to keep my father happy.’
She was about to question that statement when he started to unbuckle his belt. ‘Whoa. Rewind. I do not need to see you naked. This engagement is fake, remember?’
‘There is no way I’ll forget that, dolcezza. Just make sure you don’t.’
‘Oh, please—there is no way I’ll forget that.’
‘Don’t be so sure. Every woman I meet thinks she’s going to be the one to change my ways and drag me to the altar.’
Turning her back on him, Taylor paced around the room, noticing the art on the walls and the beautiful stylish touches. There were no photographs. Nothing personal. ‘You are known for living the high life. We are going to have to work extra hard to convince people this is real. Even pretending is giving you a hunted look. I’m going to have to teach you to act.’
‘I can act. I don’t need your help.’
‘And I may not need yours if Santo doesn’t manage to replace the director.’ Battling a rush of insecurity, Taylor walked through the French doors onto the pretty balcony with its glorious views of the Sicilian countryside. ‘It’s gorgeous. Are you sure the press won’t find us here?’
‘Of course I’m not sure. They can find us anywhere, that’s their job.’ He seemed completely indifferent to the possibility and she felt her own pulse rate quicken as she walked back into the bedroom.
‘Don’t you care?’
‘Why would I?’
‘It’s an invasion of privacy.’
‘I’ve never seen the need to hide what I do.’ He removed his shirt and dropped it onto the bed. The flex of hard, honed muscle across his wide shoulders had her staring, and because this was the day where nothing was going her way that was the moment he turned and caught her.
‘Enjoying the view?’
‘Not particularly. And I have no idea why you’re undressing.’
‘Purely for your entertainment, dolcezz
a.’ Sending her a sexy smile, he unclipped his watch. ‘And for the entertainment of any photographers who happen to have long lenses trained on my bedroom. I’d hate to disappoint them. Oh—and because I intend to take a shower.’
‘Photographers?’ Horrified, she looked from him to the long windows that offered a view into the distance. ‘Can this house be seen from the road?’
‘I have no idea. I suppose we’ll find out now you’re staying here.’
‘I’m not staying here…’ She stumbled over the words in her panic, tripping over her bag as she backed to the door and opened it. ‘If the press could be watching, I can’t stay. I have to go somewhere I know I can’t be photographed—I have to—’
‘You have to calm down.’ Luca strode over to her and pushed the door shut with the flat of his hand, saying something to her in Italian. ‘Cristo, Taylor, why all the drama? You’re not on set now.’
‘I hate being photographed.’
‘Yes, I’m starting to get that part. Even I’m not that obtuse.’ His keen gaze was fixed on her face. ‘What I don’t get is why. You’re an actress. You’re photographed all the time. It’s part of the job.’
‘And I accept it when I’m out filming, or at a premiere or even when I’m out having fun because I know I can never go anywhere without being recognised any more, but I have to know I’m safe when I’m at h-home. I don’t want to be photographed when I—think I’m alone.’ She was stammering. ‘I deserve that. Doesn’t everyone deserve that?’
‘Yes, I suppose so, if that’s what they want. And now are you going to tell me what happened?’
Her stomach felt as if someone had tied a knot in it. ‘What do you mean?’
‘No one freaks out like that without a reason. So tell me the reason. What happened?’
‘Nothing happened.’ She had no intention of talking about it, especially not to him. She’d learned the hard way that no one could be trusted. Thinking back to how naive she’d been at seventeen made her want to curl up in embarrassment but at least she’d learned the lesson. ‘I’m a private person, that’s all. There’s nothing wrong with that.’
‘Except that, like most celebrities, the press considers you public property.’
His choice of phrase triggered something inside her. ‘I’m a person, not property. I am not anyone’s meal ticket!’
‘Taylor—’
‘Enough, OK? I don’t even know why we’re talking about this. I just hate the press, that’s all you need to know. I don’t want to stay somewhere they can see me! If they’re pushing a camera in my face, I want to know about it.’ Shocked to discover just how much emotion was still simmering deep inside her, Taylor reached for the door handle but his hand covered hers.
‘Cristo, you’re shaking.’
‘No, I’m not.’
‘You are the most confusing woman I’ve ever met,’ he breathed. ‘Ballsy one minute and fragile the next.’
‘I’m not fragile.’
There was a long pause. ‘I’ll brief my security team. I’ll make sure this place is like a fortress. The only photographs those bastards get will be the ones we want them to take. Us doing engagement stuff—whatever that is. Talking of which, we’d better find out what we’re supposed to do.’ He released her and strolled across the bedroom as if nothing had happened, leaving Taylor shaken. It unsettled her to know she was nowhere near as in control as she liked to think she was.
Pulling herself together, she looked at him. ‘What are you doing now?’
He keyed something into his phone. ‘Given that you and I are clueless, I’m doing a search for the typical behaviour of engaged people. There has to be a website. It’s probably called getmeoutofhere.com. Or possibly killmenow.org.’ The remark was typical of him and for some reason that normality helped relax her.
‘We’re not just engaged, we’re newly engaged.’
‘And the significance of that is…?’
‘The first glow of excitement has yet to wear off. We have to be supersickly.’
‘No worries. The thought of being engaged makes me feel more sickly than you can possibly imagine.’
‘And you fed me spleen burger. Need I say more?’
‘No, but you’re a woman so no doubt you will anyway. If you want to sit down, sit on the bed. It can’t be seen from the window unless they have a lens shaped like a periscope.’ It was the only reference he made to her sudden loss of control. ‘Here you are. Ten habits of engaged couples. Can you believe someone researched that and then wrote about it? What a total waste of a life.’
Taylor glanced from the window to the bed and decided to follow his advice. She slid off her shoes and sat cross-legged on the end of the bed. ‘Go on. Read it out.’
He was staring at her legs. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Relaxing. I do yoga. It’s good for the core and helps keep me flexible.’
‘Flexible?’ His voice slightly rough, Luca lifted his gaze from her legs to her face, his phone forgotten. ‘How flexible?’
The temperature in the room shot up and suddenly all she could think of was the way his mouth had felt on hers.
‘Flexible enough to make sure that when we’re seen in public you’re looking very tired.’ Unable to resist teasing him, she wrapped one leg behind her neck and his brows rose.
‘That position has amazing possibilities but there’s no way I’d look tired in public. I have endless stamina. Maybe you’ll be the one who is looking tired, tesoro, from my male demands.’
Her heart thudded a little harder. ‘I’ve been working with a trainer for months in preparation for this role. I can cope with any physical demands you care to throw my way.’
‘Is that a challenge?’
‘Absolutely not.’ Taylor swallowed and allowed her leg to slide back into its original position. ‘So what advice does your website offer?’
His eyes lingered on hers and then eventually he looked back at the screen. ‘Touching.’
‘Pardon?’
‘According to this, newly engaged couples touch all the time. They can’t bear to be next to each other and not feel each other. Does that mean I have permission to stroke your breasts in public? Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.’
‘Public. Of course. We have to be seen in public.’ Taylor pushed away thoughts of his hands on her breasts. ‘We need to be seen, otherwise no one is going to believe this is real. We should go out for dinner or something.’
‘What’s the point of that? You don’t eat anything.’
‘All the better. People will assume my love for you is putting me off my food.’
‘Just as long as you don’t expect me to be off my food too, because I have no intention of starving myself for the role.’ He scanned the screen, his expression comical. ‘Cristo, is there anything good about being engaged?’
‘Why ask me? I’ve never been engaged before either. Nor do I want to be.’
‘No?’ His gaze lifted to hers. ‘Then that makes us a perfect pair. So what happened to you to put you off relationships?’
Her heart thudded a little bit faster. ‘Life.’
‘You mean a man.’
Would a real man take advantage of a vulnerable girl? Would a real man cynically manipulate someone’s feelings for his own benefit? She felt the panic stir deep inside her and squashed it down. ‘Well, he had a penis, if that’s what you mean. But apart from that no, I wouldn’t call him a man.’ The words tasted like acid in her mouth and they must have sounded the same way because he lowered his phone, his dark gaze suddenly sharp.
‘Is this guy the reason you hate the press? What did he do?’
Why on earth had she started this conversation? Especially with a man as shallow and superficial as Luca Corretti. She was surprised he’d even asked the question. what did he know about loneliness? Or vulnerability, come to that. He came from a huge family. He had no idea what it was like to have no one. He would never in a million years understand what had happened to her.
‘It isn’t relevant.’
‘I’m your fiancé. If you have something in your past that had that big an impact on you, I need to know about it.’
‘No, you don’t.’ She felt the panic rise from deep inside her and block her throat. ‘My past is none of your business.’
‘For someone who claims this is in the “past” you look pretty stressed out.’
‘It’s being with you that makes me stressed out. And what about you?’ She turned it back on him. ‘Anything in your past I need to know about?’
‘Nothing at all.’ He deflected her question with ease. ‘My life is an open book.’
No one’s life was an open book, she knew that now. There were hidden corners, areas of darkness, a graveyard of secrets.
She wondered what his were.
While she was musing on the comment he’d made about his mother, he strode across the room, picked up the phone And spoke in Italian. ‘I’m taking you out to dinner. My team will book us a table at Da Giovanni. It’s very elegant. And high-profile. You can push a lettuce leaf around your plate and gaze at me adoringly.’
‘You’ll have to gaze at me adoringly too.’
‘I can do that as long as you don’t get confused and start thinking it’s real.’
‘When I grab a gun and shoot myself through the head you’ll know I’m starting to think our relationship is real,’ she told him in a cool tone. ‘Until then, you’re safe. Unfortunately I don’t have any faith that you are capable of even acting the part of a man in love, so concentrate because I’m going to give you some hints.’
‘I’ve already told you I don’t need an acting lesson.’
She ignored that. ‘The best way to convincingly play emotion is to conjure up the feeling. So if I’m playing someone sad, I try and remember a time when I was sad.’
‘I’ve never been engaged so I can’t conjure up the horror that went with it.’
‘Very funny, but not helpful. Tonight you have to look as if I’m the only woman in the world for you. Is there any chance you can do that?’