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His release was swift and she clung to him as he buried his head in her damp hair. ‘Il mio amore,’ he murmured softly in Italian as he kissed her neck, not knowing what he was saying, his thoughts translating to words involuntarily as passion took over.
Was it his way of saying goodbye? He didn’t know, but was grateful the words of love he’d voiced in his language hadn’t appeared to have been understood, or even heard.
* * *
Charlie smoothed down the white dress she’d arrived in yesterday and glanced around the room one last time, not sure if she was checking for forgotten items or committing it to memory. Both, she told herself, because there wouldn’t be any coming back. It was over. In just two more days she’d be back in England, back to her life. The moments of passion they’d shared would be locked away for good.
She walked around the room, her sandals tapping slowly on the wooden floor. She could still hear the soft words of Italian Sandro had spoken as they’d made love that one last time. She hadn’t understood much of it, but one phrase now replayed over and over in her head.
Il mio amore.
My love.
She shook her head in denial. It must have been in the heat of the moment, something he said to every woman he made love to and nothing more. She clung to this idea, knowing she didn’t want it to be anything more. Especially not from Alessandro.
They might have put aside their differences for a weekend of passion, enabling them to explore the explosive attraction that had been present from the very beginning, but as soon as they returned to Milan those differences would return. They would engulf them and mock her for her weakness at giving in to lust, because lust was all it was, all it ever could be.
As she thought of returning to Milan, she knew that, deep down, she could never forgive him for failing to ensure that the prototype that Seb had crashed that night was fit to drive. Their differences encroached like a menacing shadow. What had she done? Not only had she slept with the man responsible for Seb’s death, but had enjoyed a whirlwind affair. One that had jumbled her emotions and tied her in knots.
Quickly she grabbed her bag and left the room, not daring to look again at the bed which had been the focal point of so much pleasure, so much passion. She should be ashamed of herself. And, deep down, she was, but at least she’d got it out of her system, cleansed away the irrational desire she’d felt for him the instant her eyes had met his. There wouldn’t be any what ifs when she returned home. But there would be recriminations.
Her heels clipped down the marble stairs, echoing around the vast hallway, and she paused as she saw Alessandro stood by the door, keys in hand, looking as desperate to get back to normal as she was.
Despite her bravado and knowing this was how it should be, her heart sank. If things had been different, if she didn’t hold him responsible for Seb’s accident, would they have been leaving as lovers too? She swallowed down the thought, straightened her shoulders and met his gaze head-on.
‘It is time to go, no?’ Her step faltered briefly at his heavily accented question, or was it a statement? Whatever it was, it was right. It was time to go, time to leave their passion within the luxury of this villa.
‘It is,’ she said and continued down the stairs, her chin held high. ‘Time to get back to reality.’
CHAPTER TEN
CHARLIE HAD NEVER been so tense. The drive back to Milan had been almost silent, with the exception of a few attempts at polite conversation which had withered like flowers in parched earth.
She followed Alessandro into the apartment, trying not to notice the masculine scent of his aftershave, which trailed tantalisingly in his wake. She might have decided to distance herself from him but her body was having a hard time accepting it.
‘I will book into a hotel, if you can recommend one close by.’ She forced the words out, knowing it would be for the best. What they’d shared over the weekend had no place in the present and certainly not the future. She’d made it very clear to him she wasn’t looking for more than a passing distraction and he’d made it easy, setting the time limit and taking her away.
But now they were back in Milan. Back with their problems. All she wanted was to get through the next two days and leave—but not until she’d found what she’d come to Italy for. Answers.
He turned to face her, his expression set in a hard mask, his eyes unreadable. ‘That will not be necessary. The room you occupied on the first night is ready for you.’
