“So…it’s not a big deal.”
Except, it felt like a big deal. A really big deal, as she stared up at him and was sucked back into the memory of their kiss, the passion they’d shared. Despite the fact they were out in the fresh air, she could suddenly hardly breathe.
“We have some work to do before dinner,” he said, but his voice was strangled too, as though the same oppressive awareness was making his lungs work overtime, like hers.
“Oh?”
“Si.He might have treated you with kid gloves just now, but believe me, Valentino is too clever to be easily fooled. He will be looking for holes in our story.”
“So we need to get our story straight.”
He nodded once. “Starting right now. Do you need time alone, or are you ready to begin?”
She opened her mouth to say something. In truth, she needed the time he’d offered. She needed space to breathe, to think, to try to find her way to something more familiar, an anchor to who she was. But Luca was right. They had a lot of ground to cover and less than eight hours in which to do it.
“Let’s just get started,” she said, breathily. “I’ll…take time, later.”
He dipped his head once. “Are you hungry?”
She frowned. Strangely, she was. They’d eaten on the flight, but her stomach didn’t seem to know what time zone she was in. “A little.”
He nodded once and moved off, towards the house, returning a moment later. No doubt, he’d given instructions to one of the army of staff she’d been aware of, moving discreetly throughthe house, placing coffee and fruit down on the terrace table, as they’d sat with Valentino.
“So,” she said, glad at least that with Valentino gone she could sit a distance from Luca, could get a little of that space she so badly needed, even with him right there. “Where do we start?”
“The basics, first,” he said, businesslike and pragmatic, in a way she found reassuring. He acted almost as though this was commonplace for him.
“Like where we met?”
“Precisamente.”
She considered that. “I think it’s best if we keep this as close to the truth as possible.”
He arched a brow. “I don’t think the truth will convince him this is real.”
She ignored the heaviness pressing on her chest. “I just mean, we should say it was a bar.”
“That he will believe, at least as far as I am concerned.” Something shifted on Luca’s face though. A look of scepticism. Of doubt. Of concern? “But with you? It seems less likely. Tell me, Allegra, are you someone who routinely spends time in bars like that?”
Her heart stammered. She felt seen. She felt panicked. Suddenly, she was back there, the reality of her situation wrapping around her like tentacles, so it was impossible to draw breath. She stared at him, stricken, truly having never felt something like this before. Her eyes were flooded with black dots and then bright white, and a second later, Luca was crouching in front of her, his hands on her face, drawing her downwards. “Put your face down, it’s okay,” he was saying, low and soft, his hand on her back rubbing rhythmically, as he guided her head to rest between her knees, and there was no longer a hint of distance between them. Her panic was too all consuming to leave space for anything else though. Shestruggled to swallow, to think, to do anything but try not to pass out.
“It’s okay,” he continued, and then shifted to Italian, the foreign, beautiful words doing what nothing else had, and soothing her enough for her to suck in air, once, again, and again, until her lungs were inflated and she was once again breathing.
She stayed where she was though, for long enough to know the panic attack had passed and then, slowly, straightened, sitting back in her seat, aware of him now being so close, his hand on her back still, his expression guarded.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, eyes shifting to the sea, lips tugging downward. “That’s never happened before.”
He made a grunting noise that was neither agreement nor disagreement. “You were scared.”
She turned to face him, frowning. “Of you?”
“That night. I remember now. You seemed terrified. You kept looking over your shoulder, and your hand shook as you lifted your drink. Long before I spoke to you, I had decided to watch out for you. To make sure you made it into a taxi without harm.”
She was too vulnerable, and he was too close, for her to hear that admission without it squeezing parts of her she hadn’t known existed. “Are you always so chivalrous?” She intended the question to be light hearted, to ease some of the weightiness that was surrounding them, but it came out as a genuine question.
“Far from it, believe me.” His frown deepened. “And you should not mistake concern for anything else. I have no interest in seeing a young woman afraid, nor hurt, but generally, that is where I would draw a line. I cannot understand how we went from being strangers in a bar, to being legally married?—,”
She sat up straighter and turned to him, eyes saucer-wide. “What if we’re not?”
