“He should still be here.”
“But you can’t control that,” she said, frustrated because she obviously wasn’t getting through to him. She stood and closed the distance between them, so they were toe to toe. “He went to war knowing there were risks. If not that day, then some other, he might get hurt, or worse.”
He just stared at her.
“Just like my dad did everything right, lived like a saint, and still got cancer. Shit happens.”
He made a sound. A strangled noise that wasn’t a laugh, but something almost like it. “That’s your answer?”
“Do you have a better one?”
He looked towards the coastline. “Are you happy here?”
She didn’t immediately follow.
“We can keep going, but I figure there’s no rush.”
“Oh,” she followed his gaze. “Yeah.” A frown moved over her face. “Do we have food?”
“Enough for tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll brave a market somewhere.”
She smiled at that. The thought of going ashore, just the two of them, walking hand in hand through some ancient Italian village was instantly captivating. But it was also an illusion. They were not a couple, and they were not going to walk with hands swinging as though wildly in love. Not unless there was someone watching who needed to be convinced of this ruse.
“You don’t have minions to do that for you?”
He smiled at her. “You’re starting to think like a Di Santis already. That’s a great idea. I’ll get someone to meet us with what we need.”
She opened her mouth to object, to explain she hadn’t meant it, then closed it again. It would reveal too much, make her too vulnerable. So she changed the subject back. “Paolo is very angry with you. You’re very angry with him. But neither of you seems to be the villain you each think.”
“How can you say that after this afternoon?”
“Come on, Luca,” she said, exasperated. “You know he wasn’t going to hurt me. He shouldn’t have touched me, but I don’t believe there was any malice behind that. He was just trying to get me to listen, when I was walking away.”
“So now you’re defending him?”
“And you’re jealous,” she said, eyes wide, knowing instantly that she was right. Their relationship was fake but that didn’t mean he wanted to share her.
Luca visibly tensed. “Don’t read anything into it.”
“But I’m right?”
His nostrils flared. “What do you think?”
“You hated him touching me. Because it’s him? Or me?”
He glared at her. “Both.”
She considered that. “I’m not interested in your brother.”
“You’re not interested in me either.”
“That’s obviously false.”
“Sex is sex. I’m pretty sure he could give you that.”
She gasped, the way he said it so hurtful. So unexpectedly cutting. She stepped back and spun away, unprepared for the feelings that would riot through her.
“Cristo,” he ground out, and she felt him standing behind her, his hands on her hips gently. Enquiring. Seeing if it was okay to touch her. “I’m sorry. That came out—I’m angry at him, not you. I didn’t mean to imply?—,”
