“Do we have to go so fast?” Allegra asked, so he realised he was stalking across the garden as quickly as he could without breaking into a run. But for Allegra, who was so much shorter, that meant she was jogging to keep up.
He made an effort to slow his pace, but it made him feel as though he were caged.
“I want to get off this goddamn island,” he muttered.
“Okay, but I’m not actually an Olympic sprinter, so…”
His nostrils flared as he breathed out and then, turning around to her, he stopped walking and put his hands on her hips, ignoring the strange sense of calm that jolted through him when their eyes met. The feeling that suddenly, nothing else really mattered.
“May I?” he asked.
She frowned, but he picked her up by way of explanation, lifting her against his chest, cradling her there, realising the sense of calm spread, the more he held her.
“I can walk,” she said, unevenly, and he knew she was feeling as affected by all of this as he was. Different reasons, different feelings, but the same rioting emotions. He hated it. He hated feeling anything that he couldn’t control, and something aboutthis moment was exactly that. Spinning wildly away from him. He hadn’t been there to protect her, and Paolo had touched her.
Had touched her when she’d asked him not to. Had pulled at her arm. Had spoken to her loudly. Had treated her with disrespect and every single protective instinct he possessed had fired to life. A whole jumble of feelings, probably mixed up with not having been able to save Marco, with having let his best friend down, all skittered inside of him. He’d seen red. All he’d known in that moment was a fierce, desperate need to make her safe.
And make her his.
Yes. He’d wanted to wipe his brother off her; he’d wanted to erase his touch, his words, everything.
Down near the water, rather than turn towards the speedboat, he stalked in the opposite direction, back towards the yacht.
“Where are we going?”
“Why do we not take the scenic route home?”
He saw the way her face changed, something shifting in her features he didn’t understand. He slowed, his chest moving with each ragged breath.
“I want to shut out the world for a while.”
“Luca,” she lifted a hand to his cheek, making something swirl inside of him, just like it had on the terrace. “It’s okay to be angry.”
He ground his teeth. “I wanted to kill him.”
Her throat shifted as she swallowed. “He was just trying to get my attention.”
“He had no right to touch you.”
“I know.” She shook her head. “He didn’t hurt me.”
“You asked him to stop. He didn’t.”
She bit into her lower lip; he ached to kiss her.
“He had no right,” Luca growled.
“I know that too.”
“I was so angry.”
Her lips flickered in the hint of a smile. “Yes.”
He couldn’t dredge up a similar emotion. He blinked and saw Paolo, holding onto her. The man who hated him, who would stop at nothing to ruin his life. Including his marriage.
And even though this wasn’t a real marriage and Allegra not a real wife, his feelings of jealousy and possessiveness had been anything but false. “If you have any objections, say so now.”
He was conscious of the sound of the waves, the birds, the trees, her breathing. Conscious of everything, including the fact she didn’t answer for a very long time. Tension spread through him, a feeling that he could not force her to spend days alone with him on a yacht if she didn’t want to.
