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His gaze didn’t waver. ‘I don’t want a mistress.’
Something hot flooded her veins and seeped through her bones and into every inch of her flesh. Her lips parted, but no sound came out.
The icy darkness in his eyes melted. It took everything she had to wrench her eyes from his heated gaze.
She swallowed and stared at his champagne flute before being drawn back to meet his eyes. ‘I thought you only drank Scotch nowadays?’
He didn’t so much as flicker. ‘When I realised that you weren’t dead and had simply run away, I stopped drinking. I needed every wit I had trying to find you.’
‘So my leaving did some good.’ She smiled to cover the sting that lashed across her chest. As much as she knew he’d deserved every second of worry, it hurt her heart to think of the pain she had put him through. ‘I was starting to worry for your liver.’
‘You had nothing to worry about.’
‘Didn’t I?’ she asked pointedly.
From the flicker in his eyes, he knew as well as she that she was not just referring to his drinking habits.
‘I saw you talking with Pepe,’ he said, blatantly changing the subject. ‘I’m pleased he didn’t give in to his impulse of strangling you.’
‘So am I. I think he’s saving all his hatred for when he gets the opportunity to dismember Francesco.’
Mirth played on his firm lips. Turning his head, Luca caught the bartender’s eye and indicated for more champagne.
‘Francesco is not the demon Pepe would have you believe.’ He paused. ‘Well, maybe a little.’
‘He told me you were cutting your business ties with him.’
‘That is correct.’
‘Why?’
‘That is not a conversation for now.’
‘Then when? Tonight? Tomorrow? Next year?’
He turned back to her. ‘Tonight.’
‘Promise?’
‘I give you my word.’
She bit her lip, wishing she could read his mind.
A strange flicker crossed his face. ‘I’m sorry I let Francesco believe you had pre-natal depression.’
An apology? From Luca? That had to be a first.
‘It was the truth,’ she admitted, expelling a huge lungful of air.
He raised an eyebrow, a furrow running down his forehead.
She smiled wryly. ‘Oh, it wasn’t serious like you told him. More a constant lethargy. Motivating myself to keep moving on kept getting harder.’ As if her tongue had a mind of its own, she confided the darkness she had, at the time, been too scared to properly acknowledge to herself. ‘It got worse after Lily was born. That’s why I bought all the exercise equipment—I was terrified of being put on anti-depressants, terrified of failing Lily. I’d read exercise was a good method of combating it.’
‘Did it work?’
‘A little.’ She shrugged, realising for the first time that her return to Sicily—to Luca—had coincided with the return of her old energy levels. For sure, she was still tired—having a small baby who rarely slept through the night ensured that—but the cold fog that had enveloped her bones had vanished. ‘I definitely feel better in myself now.’
‘That’s good.’ He paused. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t there to support you.’
It was on the tip of her tongue to say the same in return, but this time, by the slightest of threads, she managed to keep her mouth shut. To utter another word would be madness. She was in enough danger as it was.
Fresh flutes of champagne were placed before them. Luca handed one to Grace and held his own aloft. His eyes flashed. ‘Salute.’
‘Salute,’ she echoed, chinking her flute to his. She took a long sip and closed her eyes, enjoying the taste and the sensation of bubbles fizzing in her mouth. It was much the same way she used to fizz at Luca’s touch. The way she still did...
‘We should dance,’ he said.
She took a deep breath and opened her eyes to meet his gaze. ‘Why? So we can convince everyone here that we’re happy together?’
‘Because I want to dance with the sexiest woman here and show them she’s mine.’
She swallowed away the dryness of her throat. ‘I’m not yours. Only in name.’ Even as she spoke the words she knew them to be a lie. Luca had imprinted himself indelibly into every one of her senses.
He leaned into her and spoke into her neck. ‘You will always be mine.’
The warmth of his breath sent tiny pulsations darting through her. She swayed, her heels no protection against the dizziness evoked by his touch.
He covered her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. He felt so warm, his touch penetrating her skin and dancing into the very fabric of her being.
