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‘Where is she?’
Lazaro’s head of security answered him. ‘She’s in Piazza San Marco.’
Lazaro turned away from the table full of people in the boardroom. ‘Please tell me she’s not sketching someone?’
‘Er...no. She’s sitting at a table drinking what looks like iced water, and she had some ice cream before that.’
Lazaro terminated the call. He faced the room and said, ‘I’m done with discussing the contract, I’m ready to sign.’
Immediately his legal counsel stood up. ‘Lazaro, is this wise—?’
Lazaro held up a hand and said dryly, ‘Sebastian, we’ve combed through this contract for weeks now. Let’s get this done. I’ve got somewhere to be.’
Within twenty minutes he was striding out of the palazzo and taking the short walk to the Piazza San Marco. He’d just signed the contract for one of Venice’s oldest and most notable buildings, cementing his place among a very few exclusive real estate owners in the world. And yet he wasn’t basking in a glow of satisfaction. Or feeling any measure of peace. He was...distracted.
And the distraction only dissipated when he entered the square and found her. His wife. Her red hair gleaming in the late-afternoon sunshine. Her pale shoulders bare in a sundress with skinny straps and a buttoned bodice that made him want to undo the buttons so he could free her breasts.
Suddenly Lazaro stopped dead. What the hell was he doing? People flowed around him—the thousands of tourists that thronged Venice every day. He’d just cut a meeting short. A meeting he’d spent months preparing for. He’d spent last night in a haze of sensual pleasure to the point that he’d overslept today and been late for that very meeting. Another anomaly.
He hadn’t spent years climbing out of the gutter he’d been left in to let everything unravel now.
He turned around and went back the way he’d come, ignoring the prickling of his conscience.
* * *
Skye tipped her face up to the sun, relishing the warmth. And if she felt a bit lonely, she told herself she was being ridiculous. This wasn’t a real honeymoon. It was... Skye sighed. She didn’t know what this was. And she didn’t like the way that, as the heat between her and Lazaro only seemed to grow, any attempt to define it only seemed to get more elusive.
One minute Lazaro bared a side of him she didn’t expect, and that made her heart ache, and the next he was charming her and seducing her so thoroughly that she couldn’t speak. And the next minute he was the aloof, stern man she’d met in Madrid, when all hell had broken loose.
This morning he’d been distant and distracted. Late for a meeting. Skye had got the impression that wasn’t a usual occurrence for him.
She sighed and put money down to pay for her ice cream, then got up to leave. She waved at the taciturn security guard who was following her and he cracked a small smile. Skye took it as a good sign.
When she got back to the palazzo Lazaro was on the phone, pacing up and down. Shirtsleeves rolled up, baring his strong forearms. His hair was messy.
He ended his conversation, which had been in French. ‘Did you have a nice morning?’
The question was perfectly innocuous and civil, but Skye detected a tension in the air that she couldn’t read. It made her nervy, and when she was nervy she babbled. ‘Yes, lovely. I walked all along the canal down to the Piazza San Marco. I found a gelato shop that was my favourite when I was here before. Guido’s. It’s famous. The pistachio and walnut flavour is to die for...’ She trailed off, feeling silly.
Lazaro looked at his watch. ‘We’re leaving for Madrid in an hour—someone is packing your things for you now.’
‘Oh, I didn’t realise we were leaving today. You should have told me sooner. I would have come back.’
He waved a hand. ‘I knew where you were through Luis.’
The security guard.
Lazaro hadn’t actually told her how long they would be in Venice. She’d just assumed. He wasn’t remotely interested in visiting some random gelato shop. He was here to work.
‘Did you sign your contract?’
He nodded. ‘Signed and sealed. I’m now the owner of this palazzo.’
‘You must be very pleased.’ But she noticed that if anything, he looked irritated.
‘I am,’ he said tightly.
His phone rang again. Skye made a don’t worry face and went into the bedroom to help the staff pack her things, before changing into something more practical for travel.
