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The driver pulled up outside a large, one-storey Tuscan-style villa.
‘I’ll leave you two to settle in.’ Robert grinned, throwing her a wink. ‘Get a good night’s sleep and I’ll get a golf-buggy to collect you after breakfast and bring you to the hotel. The conference room’s all ready to go. And, Rosa—’ he winked at her again ‘—the spa here has been named one of the best in the world. My staff have all been instructed to give you preferential treatment on anything you desire.’
‘That is very kind. I’ll be sure to remember that.’ She smiled. The shimmering heat of the day and the ambient atmosphere of the island had already started working its magic on her. What was the point in getting antsy? He was an old man. She would change his mind soon enough. ‘See you in the morning.’
Entering the villa, she tightened her ponytail and sighed with pleasure.
‘Shall I take your luggage to your bedroom?’ the driver asked, depositing their cases on the terracotta floor.
‘I shall deal with it,’ Nico said, slipping him some local currency.
Once they were alone, he turned to Rosa. ‘I need to check in with the Moscow office, so take a look around.’
Leaving him to it, she headed off into the open-plan living quarters, which were as airy and sophisticated as one would expect for a villa of this calibre. On the gleaming dining table stood a bucket of champagne on ice, a large bowl of fresh fruit and a vase of the prettiest, most delicious-smelling flowers she had ever seen or sniffed. Tucked away discreetly in a corner to the rear was a large, fully equipped office, which she gave a cursory once-over before heading to the patio doors. Inspecting the office could wait. She would spend the next fortnight virtually chained to the desk.
She stepped out onto the decking. A sprawling lawn ran down to a sandy-white beach.
Bubbles of excitement started thrumming through her veins. Dozens of co-mingling scents converged under her nose, from fragrant flowers and freshly cut grass to the salty scent of the sea.
Rosa closed her eyes. She had travelled to many countries with Nico during her time as his PA. Relaxation had never been on the agenda. This trip would be no different. She was here to work.
All the same...
They’d always stayed in luxurious accommodation, but it had always been functional rather than beautiful.
Butterfly Island was stunning. This villa was stunning.
Wistfulness clutched at her belly. What would it be like if she were here with a lover? Someone she trusted enough to place her heart in his hands, who would not squeeze all the life out of it?
She scrubbed the image away—especially the image of Nico that kept trying to intrude. Finding another lover was the last thing on her mind. Sleeping with Stephen had been an act of folly—an act of desperation to purge the hurt that had almost consumed her whole.
CHAPTER FOUR
AFTER ONE LAST longing gaze at the beach, Rosa went back inside to search for the bedrooms. The first was easy to find, and immediately she chose it for herself. The bedroom, large and opulent, would be any honeymooner’s dream. Its raised emperor four-poster bed even had the clichéd rose petals scattered all over the silk sheets. The en suite bathroom was amazing. The bath! She had never seen anything like it: sunken, with gold taps around the edges, it was large enough to swim in.
To stake her claim, she chucked her handbag on the bed and then left it to find Nico’s bedroom.
A few minutes later, her brief good mood having plummeted, she found Nico in the partitioned office, his laptop open, still talking on his smartphone.
He took one look at her face and disconnected the call.
‘What is wrong?’ he asked. ‘You look as if someone has stolen your luggage.’
She stood before him. ‘There’s only one bedroom.’
She waited for his disapproval.
He leaned back in the Captain’s chair and stretched out his long legs. ‘Naturally there is only one room.’
‘What do you mean, “naturally”? I was assured by Camilla, or Emily, or whoever it is that currently runs your London office, that a two-bedroomed villa had been reserved for us.’
‘I changed it.’
Her chin nearly hit the floor. ‘Why did you do that?’
‘Because we are married, and married couples rarely sleep in separate beds. Unless, of course, they are not sharing conjugal relations.’
She shook her head slowly, wishing she could slap the smug arrogance off his face. ‘You clever bastard.’
‘I shall take that as a compliment.’
‘It wasn’t meant to be.’ She knew exactly what he was playing at. ‘I’m not sharing a bed with you. I assume it is enough that people think we are sleeping together?’
