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Max pulled her into the shop and this time paced the small space while she tried the dress on, together with suitable underwear and shoes.
The assistant stood back and said appreciatively, ‘Bella figura, signora.’
Max appeared at the dressing room door, clearly a little bored. When his eyes widened Darcy’s heart-rate zoomed skywards.
‘Is it okay?’ she asked shyly. And then she babbled, ‘You know, I probably do need a dress for the Montgomerys’ party, so...’
‘We’ll take it.’ Max’s voice sounded slightly constricted.
Once Max had arranged for the dress and sundries to be sent to his office in Rome they left again. Darcy had tried to pay for the dress but of course he hadn’t let her.
Back out in the sunshine, he looked at her and said, almost warily, ‘What now?’
Darcy looked around, enjoying seeing Max knocked slightly off his confident stride. ‘Well, first I want some gelato...’
Max’s eyes boggled. ‘After you’ve just bought that dress?’ And then he shook his head. ‘Incredibile.’
Smiling now, he took her hand and pressed a kiss to the palm. Darcy looked around surreptitiously for paparazzi, but couldn’t see any obvious cameras pointed at them.
‘And after the gelato?’
She screwed up her nose and thought. ‘Wel
l, I’ve never seen The Last Supper by Leonardo Da Vinci, so that’d be nice, and I’d like to walk on the roof of the Duomo and see if we can see the Alps.’ Darcy looked at Max. ‘What about you?’
Max blinked. What about him? No one had ever asked him before what he’d like to do. And the fact that he’d assumed for a second that he could just take Darcy shopping— He shook his head mentally now at his lack of forethought. But he hadn’t been thinking—he’d just wanted to get them out of the villa before she could lock herself in the study.
Clearly, though, he’d underestimated her and would need to be far more inventive. For the first time in a long time Max felt the thrill of a challenge and something else—something almost...light.
‘Do you know what I’d like?’
She shook her head.
‘To go and see the AC Milan game.’
Darcy looked at her watch and then said impishly, ‘Well, then, you’re going to have your work cut out making sure we fit it all in, aren’t you?’
* * *
‘That last goal...’ Darcy shook her head and trailed off.
Max glanced at her, sitting in the passenger seat. They were almost back at the villa and he couldn’t remember a day he’d enjoyed as much.
They’d stood before one of the great artworks of the world and then climbed to the top of a magnificent cathedral to see the spectacular view. They hadn’t seen the snowy Alps through the heat haze that hung over the city, much to Darcy’s disappointment, and it had made Max feel an absurd urge to fix that for her. And they’d been to a football match. He never got to go to see his favourite team play. He was always too busy.
He teased Darcy. ‘So you’re a fan of AC Milan now?’
She looked at him and grinned. ‘I could get used to it. I never realised football was so gladiatorial. My father’s a rugby man, so I grew up being dragged to rugby matches. Whatever country we were in I found it was a way of orientating myself, because we moved around so much.’
Max found himself thinking of something that had nagged at him, and asked curiously, ‘Does that have anything to do with the very specific amount of money you requested?’
Darcy went still, but then she wrinkled her nose and said lightly, ‘Isn’t it a little crass to talk about money with your fake wife?’
Max shook his head. ‘You’re not avoiding the question so easily. You should have asked for a different amount. Ever heard of rounding up?’
Darcy scowled, making Max even more determined to know what the money was for. He would have given it to her in bonuses anyway, but the fact that she’d asked for it...
She sighed, and then said, ‘When my folks split up they sold the family home. They never really settled again. I went to boarding school, my dad was travelling all over the world, and my mother was wherever her newest lover was. When my father’s business fell apart and I went back to the UK to a comprehensive school it was my most settled time—even if we were living out of a cheap hotel.’
