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‘Good for you.’ He downed his own glass before rising to his feet. ‘Come. It is time to take you back.’
Hannah grabbed her clutch bag and stood. Her body felt incredibly light.
Surrounded by Francesco’s minders, who’d been waiting in the corner of the bar for them, they left. When they reached the stairs, he placed a hand on the small of her back, a protective gesture that lightened her even further.
CHAPTER EIGHT
FRANCESCO’S VILLA WAS in darkness, but as soon as his driver brought the car over the foot of the driveway, light illuminated it, bathing it in a golden hue. With the stars in the moonless night sky twinkling, it was the prettiest sight Hannah had ever seen.
‘Can I get you a drink?’ Francesco asked once they were alone inside, his minders having left for their own quarters. ‘How about a brandy?’
The effects of the champagne had started to abate a little, but did she want to risk putting any more alcohol into her system?
‘Only a small one,’ he added, clearly reading her mind.
‘Yes, please. A small one,’ she agreed, hugging herself.
She followed him through the sprawling reception and into the living room, where Francesco swept a small white object from the windowsill. ‘Catch,’ he said, throwing it at her.
Luckily she caught it. Before she could admonish him for the reckless endangerment of her phone, he’d continued through the huge library, through the dining room, diverted round the indoor swimming pool, stepped through huge French doors and out onto a veranda overhanging the outdoor pool.
It was like stepping into a tropical-party area where the only thing missing was the guests. A bar—a proper bar, with flashing lights, high stools, and everything—was set up at one end. Tables, chairs, and plump sofas abounded.
‘I bet you have some fantastic parties here,’ she said. The perfect setting for the playboy Francesco was reputed to be, yet, she reflected, not at all the man who she was learning he was.
‘Not for a long time.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘I have different priorities now.’ He raised his shoulder, affecting nonchalance, but there was no doubting the ‘I’m not prepared to discuss this’ timbre in his voice.
That was fine by her. She doubted she wanted to know what his new priorities were anyway.
She spotted a long white board jutting through the trellis. ‘Is that a diving board?’
He nodded. ‘It beats walking down the steps to reach the swimming pool.’
‘You should get a slide—that would be much more fun.’
He chuckled and slipped behind the bar. ‘That’s not a bad idea. Do you swim?’
‘Not for years.’
‘I would suggest a dip now but alcohol and swimming pools do not mix well. We will have time for a swim in the morning—that is, if you want to stay the night. Or do you still want to get a flight home?’
There was no mistaking the meaning in his quietly delivered words.
A thrill of excitement speared up her spine, making her shiver despite the warmth of her skin in the balmy night air.
Dimly she recalled saying she wanted to go home. The anger that had made her say those words had gone. All that lay within her now was a longing, wrapped so tightly in her chest it almost made her nauseous.
This was what she’d wanted. It was the whole reason she was here.
She shook her head. ‘I don’t want to go home. I want to stay.’
His eyes held hers, heat flashing from them before he reached for a bottle and poured them both a drink, topping the smaller measure with a splash of lemonade. He handed it to her. ‘I’ve sweetened it for you, otherwise your untried taste buds might find it a little too harsh.’
Their fingers brushed as she took the glass from him. That same flash of heat sparked in his eyes again.
‘Saluti,’ he said, holding his glass aloft.
‘Saluti,’ she echoed, chinking her glass to his.
Francesco took a swallow of his drink. ‘I thought you would have checked your phone by now.’
‘Oh.’ Disconcerted, she blinked. ‘I should, really.’ After all the fuss she’d made over it, she’d shoved it into her clutch bag without even checking the screen for messages.
For the first time since she’d gained her permanent place on the children’s ward, the compulsion to check her phone had taken second place to something else. And that something else was gazing at Francesco.
