He seemed stunned again as if nobody had asked him that question either. ‘It would. It does. But I would also like to take you out to dinner.’
‘Deal. Although, I don’t know if Valentina packed anything that dressy.’
‘That won’t be a problem.’
It was a day she would never forget. Ettore was the best company, she decided. He was smart and knowledgeable, and she loved how curious he was about everything.
As they wandered hand in hand around the Jardin des Plantes, he asked her questions about the evolutionary diversity of plants and listened carefully to her answers. His golden gaze made her chest feel full, as though her ribs had shrunk. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, just not one she could explain. Although she’d felt the same way back in Puglia when he’d told her that he would fly her home to England.
Home.
She tried to picture her small terraced house and her vegetable patch and her flowers. But it was like staring down through the ocean to the sea floor. She knew it was there, but it felt distant, blurred.
The Castiglione Fiana and its petal-strewn lawn was far clearer.
After visiting the gardens, they returned to the hotel and stripped each other naked, reaching for one another in the shower and then again in the bedroom.
‘I suppose I should get dressed.’ She stretched against him, her back arching against his chest, her fingers curling into his hair, and he leaned over her face to kiss her.
‘We don’t have to—’
‘We do. Everything else we did today was my choice. This is yours. And we don’t have to stay for dessert.’
‘You love desserts.’ The smile that was breaking free on his mouth made everything inside her feel like warm honey straight from the comb.
‘I do, but I love—’
Her heart was suddenly pounding in her chest because she was about to sayI love you more. She felt dizzy all of a sudden. It couldn’t be true. This was a deal brokered in anger in a hotel room in London. But none of that mattered now that she was here in a different hotel room in Paris. Because the truth was that she loved him.
And she wanted to tell him. Because he was the person she wanted to tell everything to. He was her everything. But the words stayed silent and unspoken in her head.
How could she tell him what she was feeling? This was a temporary arrangement. It didn’t matter that they were having sex now or even that Ettore had brought her on this honeymoon.
Sex was intimate but it wasn’t love. And just because her feelings had altered, didn’t mean that Ettore’s had or would.
‘What do you love?’ He was staring down at her, his light eyes intent, curious. A lock of dark hair had fallen across his forehead, and she smoothed it back, smiling.
‘I love petits fours more. So, what shall I wear?’
‘I’m sure Valentina packed something suitable. Go and check the dressing room.’
She slid off the bed and walked across the carpet, feeling his gaze follow her like a searchlight, liking the power her naked body had over him.
‘I didn’t ask her to pack anything special—’
She broke off mid-sentence as her eyes locked onto the dress that was hanging face-on from a hook on the door.
‘Is that mine?’ she said slowly.
Ettore was behind her, and she felt her body flutter to life as he leaned in to kiss her shoulder. ‘It’s not really my colour. So, I suppose it must be yours.’
It was a beautiful dress. The other dresses, the ones the stylist had chosen, were lovely but in an objective way. But this was a different kind of dress. ‘Did you choose this?’
He nodded. ‘I saw it today when we were in the car coming from the airport. I know you’re not a dress person, but I couldn’t imagine anyone else wearing it but you.’
‘I love it,’ she whispered. Her heart felt as if it were going to burst. ‘It’s beautiful.’
‘I’ll let you get ready.’
