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‘While I’m the one at the controls, yes.’
‘You’re flying it?’ She jammed the helmet on her head. ‘Why are you flying me yourself? Are you afraid I’ll ask them to land somewhere else? Do a runner on the way home?’
‘You’re not going home. And I always fly myself.’
‘I’m not going home?’
‘Of course not. Why would you think that?’ Reaching out, he adjusted her helmet. ‘Is that comfortable?’
‘No, but never mind.’ She didn’t even care. As long as she wasn’t going home, she didn’t care about anything. Feeling lighter inside, Izzy settled herself in the helicopter. ‘At least you’re not giving me a lift in a fast jet. I should be grateful for small mercies. Am I going to be sick?’
‘You drank all that champagne and managed not to be sick so I have high hopes for you,’ he drawled. ‘Get in. We’re already late.’
‘I don’t even know where we’re going.’ Izzy looked at the instruments. ‘I hope you know what you’re doing because I’m too young to die in a crumpled heap of mangled metal.’
With an exasperated shake of his head, he fastened her harness and then his hands were on the controls, sure and steady, and she could hear his voice through the sound system in her helmet. ‘We’re going to visit the Roman amphitheatre at St Pietro d’Angelo. I’m meeting a few members of the committee to discuss final arrangements for the concert along with some of the production, light and sound crew. You’ve been nagging me to let you get involved with the concert—I thought you’d find it interesting.’
Izzy gripped her seat. ‘I’m sure I will. If I live that long.’
‘I thought you were gutsy.’
‘I’m not good with fairground rides and I have a feeling this is going to be the same.’
‘You’re going to love it.’ He shot her a brief look of amusement before concentrating on the controls.
Her stomach swooped as they rose into the air and she felt a lurch of fear that swiftly turned to wonder as the world shrank beneath them. ‘Oh, it’s fantastic! Like being a bird.’ And her grin widened as he flew them across the island. ‘I really, really thought you were sending me home.’
His eyes were fixed on the horizon. ‘You’re not going home, Izzy.’
Not yet.
Eventually she would, of course, but she wasn’t going to think about that now. She wasn’t going to let anything spoil this moment.
There was a wicked thrill involved in watching him—something inherently sexy about the way he handled the powerful machine. Maybe he was a touch arrogant and he certainly had a habit of commanding everyone around him, but having met so many useless, dependent men in her life she found his take-charge attitude a refreshing change. Power was an aphrodisiac, she realised, and suddenly she felt ridiculously happy.
‘So how far is this amphitheatre?’ Please let it be a long way so that she could stay in the air forever, with this incredible bird’s-eye view. Beneath them lay silver sand beaches and dramatic cliffs, tiny fishing villages with houses in shades of pale rose and terracotta overlooking a translucent turquoise sea. As he flew inland the vista changed and she saw the remains of a ruined temple half hidden on the lush hillside. ‘It’s very green for a Mediterranean island.’
‘Olive growing is a major industry here. If you look to your left now you have a perfect view of the amphitheatre.’
And there beneath her on top of the hill, resplendent in the sunlight, lay a thousand years of history and Izzy caught her breath because nothing had prepared her for something so spectacular.
Matteo’s hands were steady on the controls as he landed. ‘It was built by the Romans, at around the same time they built the amphitheatre in Verona. The acoustics are perfect. It’s used for an opera festival in the summer and once a year we use it for the Rock ‘n’ Royal concert and the place is transformed. You won’t recognise it. Tomorrow night there’s a light and sound spectacular so the sound and lighting crew are treating it as a run-through for the concert.’
Izzy sat for a moment, wishing they could just take off again and keep flying.
‘That was the best thing I’ve ever done. And it’s the perfect thing to do for a control freak like you because you can fly yourself.’
‘You’re calling me a control freak?’ He helped her release her harness. ‘This from someone who has a Goal for the Day? Talking of which, what is your goal of today? Better let me know so that I can be prepared.’
‘To resist you.’
Astonishment flared in his eyes. ‘That’s your goal?’
‘Yes.’ Her voice was a squeak. ‘Since I met you I haven’t managed to make a decent work-related goal. Apparently the chemistry messes with my brain, so first I have to resist you and then I can get my life back on track.’ Izzy turned her head and stared at the amphitheatre. ‘So they built a massive arena in the middle of nowhere. Why would they do a thing like that? How did everyone get here?’
‘Izzy—’
‘No, truly, I just want to talk about something else.’ She brushed her hair away from her face, wilting in the heat. ‘And if you could be boring that would be extra helpful.’
