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She didn’t know if the villa was hers alone or if Andreas was sharing it with her. She hadn’t seen him since his driver had dropped her off and brought their cases in while Andreas waited in the car. His only words as she’d got out of the vehicle had been, ‘I’ll be back by seven to take you out for dinner.’
Since they had left her London home that morning he had hardly exchanged three sentences with her. His cases were still by the front door. If he were planning to stay here they would have been taken to whichever of the six bedrooms had been appointed as his.
A housekeeper and a general handyman had been in the villa to greet her and show her to her room, the handyman carrying her case up the marble stairs for her.
Her bedroom had taken her breath away; it was the complete opposite of the box room she’d been given in the Seychelles. She’d then been given a tour of the rest of the place and given the phone number for the staff house, where a small army of workers lived, all available twenty-four-seven for whatever she needed.
She’d been alone now for three hours and time was dragging insufferably. She’d had a bath in her en-suite bathroom, feeling decadent in the freestanding roll-top bath, and then had changed into a pretty summer top in a light peach colour with spaghetti straps and a full matching skirt that fell to mid-calf. The top half of it especially was very similar to the summer dresses Andreas had bought for her but…this didn’t feel as good. The clothing he’d bought for her had caressed her skin in a way she hadn’t realised until she’d put her own, much cheaper clothing back on.
She’d paced from room to room ever since, checking her watch every few minutes.
She checked it again and bit her lip.
It was almost seven.
Nerves were accumulating in her belly at an ever-increasing rate, far more violent nerves than she’d become used to when waiting for him to pick her up for their dates in London.
She’d angered him and while it was a thought that should make her glad, it made her stomach feel all coiled and acid-filled. In all that had passed between them in the past week she’d forgotten what it felt like to be on the receiving end of his anger, as she had been three years ago when he’d lasered her with his stare outside the headmistress’s office.
He’d been angry the night when the truth had been revealed between them but that had felt different. They’d both been angry—furious—with each other. Since then he’d been all charm and geniality and she didn’t think it was an act. He was that way with everyone, treated even underpaid and always undervalued waiting staff in restaurants as if their opinions on the dish of the day truly mattered, made a point of learning their names and remembering them.
She couldn’t help thinking that her refusal to open his envelope had wounded him in some way, which she knew was a ridiculous notion…
Footsteps treading on the marble floor sounded out behind her and she spun round to find him standing there holding an enormous bunch of red roses.
Their eyes met and held, and her heart made the most enormous thud against her ribs, the motion knocking all the air from her lungs.
There was no humour in his eyes, no knowing gleam, not even any anger, just a steadfast openness that made the thuds in her heart morph into a racing thrum.
He’d changed into fresh clothes, tailored dark grey trousers and a black shirt, since he’d dropped her at the villa. But there was something unkempt about him, his hair a little messier than he usually wore it, his jaw thick with stubble when he’d always been freshly shaved on their dates.
He held the flowers out to her. ‘Peace offering.’
She paused for only a moment before taking them from him.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered.
She’d never been given flowers before.
Keeping her eyes on his, she rubbed her nose against the delicate petals. They smelt wonderful.
‘You look beautiful,’ he said simply.
Her heart now racing so hard she could imagine it bursting out of her ribs, she attempted a smile but found one impossible to form.
‘I’ll find a vase to put these in.’ Forcing her feet to uproot themselves from the floor, she walked past him and headed to the vast kitchen on the other side of the villa.
Andreas kept step beside her. ‘Have you settled in all right?’
‘Yes, thank you.’ She hadn’t found it this awkward to talk to him since the interview in his office. Back then, her tongue had been tied with the fear of being discovered. Her fear now was of a completely different hue. ‘Have you had a good afternoon?’
‘It has been productive.’
‘Oh?’ They’d reached the vast kitchen.
