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She wandered around the living area, retrieving the pile of mail and slapping it firmly against her hand, jolting herself back to reality.
What the hell was wrong with her? As if she’d have to spend time with him once they arrived in Jebbai. He was obviously a person of some wealth to be able to employ at such short notice one of Milan’s upcoming designers from one of its leading houses. And he was setting her up in a workshop so she could perform her duties. Clearly he wanted her to complete the gown as soon as possible so that he could marry his fiancée, no doubt during which he had other more pressing duties to attend to.
There was little risk she wouldn’t be able to complete the dress in time. While the four-week timetable would be tight, being relieved of her other workload and able to work on the dress full-time made meeting his deadline that much more achievable.
And hadn’t she secretly been attracted to the idea of visiting the desert state? Maybe a visit to Jebbai was just what she needed to infuse some fresh ideas into her designs.
Already she could imagine the light of the desert land—the sun would be bright, perhaps even more bold than the harsh sun she knew back in Australia, but she wanted to experience its heat, she wanted to see its dipping rays burn the desert sands red. Colours in Jebbai would seem more intense, fabrics sheer and silky and lush with embroidery.
There would be different fragrances, different textures and sensations. She’d be crazy to miss out on such an experience, surely.
She looked around back into her modest apartment. Her modest, lonely apartment. There was nothing holding her here. Even Paolo was still in the States, working on a complex international lawsuit. A case likely to take months by the sounds of it.
Meanwhile she could be exploring a new part of the world. It would almost be like a holiday. Goodness, after the hours she put in for Gianfranco, she could do with one of those.
Halfway through her opening her neglected mail the doorbell rang. Her insides lurched on a reflex.
Signor Khaled!
But it couldn’t be. He didn’t even know where she lived. Although from what she’d seen of him to date, a mere technicality like that was hardly likely to stand in his way.
She made her way to the door, heart pumping in anticipation of once again seeing one person who had so dominated her thoughts since their meeting. Tentatively she pulled open the door, only to be pulled into the arms of the man waiting on the other side.
‘Sapphy, bella!’
‘Paolo?’ Trepidation melted into surprise as she found herself being pulled into a firm embrace and on the receiving end of a kiss. ‘I didn’t expect to see you.’
He relaxed his grip, holding her away a fraction and looking down at her curiously. ‘What’s wrong—aren’t you pleased to see me?’
She laughed, apprehension turning to relief as she stood in the arms of the good-looking Italian, and she hugged him in return. ‘Of course I am. I’ve missed you. It’s just that it’s such a surprise—a nice surprise. Come in.’
He followed her into the apartment as she hit him with a barrage of questions—When did you get back? How long can you stay? Has the case finished?
‘Enough,’ he said with a smile, holding up one hand as he accepted with the other the glass of wine she’d poured as her questions continued to spill out. ‘The case is in recess while the defence prepares to introduce some new evidence. I don’t have long, it was just too good an opportunity not to visit, seeing I missed your show. I hear you were a great success.’
She looked up at him and swallowed the disappointment he’d just awakened. He hadn’t made it to her show, hadn’t been with her on the most successful night of her career. And while she’d known there was little chance he’d make it, part of her knew that at one time in their relationship he would have moved heaven and earth to be there.
‘After not seeing you for six weeks,
I’m just glad you’re here now,’ she said honestly, curling into him on the sofa and breathing in his familiar cologne. ‘We haven’t had much time together lately.’
She sipped from her own glass and knew that in her tired state she’d soon need some food to counteract the wine or she’d be asleep in minutes. ‘Are you hungry? Would you like to go out somewhere for dinner?’
‘No,’ he said, almost too quickly. Then he gave her shoulders a squeeze. ‘It’s been a long day and I have to head to the Villa tomorrow to see my family before I fly back to the States. So why don’t we have dinner here, have a quiet night? What do you think?’
Sapphy nodded and settled into the curve of his arm. It was just so good to see him again, she’d eat anywhere.
And even if he wasn’t jet lagged, she’d half expected his response. In the weeks prior to his departure for New York, it seemed everywhere the couple had gone together they’d been besieged by the paparazzi, anxious to find a match between the famous international lawyer and the upcoming fashion designer. She’d lost count of the number of articles citing her as the ‘imminent Signora Mancini’.
The articles didn’t bother her overly much but they’d obviously had a different effect on Paolo. When she’d jokingly asked Paolo if he could take a hint, his reaction had been to withdraw from public life altogether and from her almost as much. She’d seen less and less of him, until finally he’d announced he was handling the New York case himself and had disappeared for who knew how long.
But he was here now. She put down her glass and let go a breath, feeling the tension from the day disappearing as she relaxed back into him again.
‘Difficult day?’ he asked.
She considered her response, his adjective immediately bringing to mind the salon’s final visitor. ‘Um, it was long. And interesting. Actually it’s lucky you dropped by this weekend. It looks like I’m going away for a few weeks to work on commission for a new client.’
‘Sounds interesting.’
