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‘That and other things.’ His tone was flat. ‘I was sixteen when my father died and Kiara was taken into foster care. I argued that I was her only family and that we should be together. Of course no one listened.’
I put my fork down, knowing how I’d felt when my parents had tried to separate Rosie and me. ‘What did you do?’
‘I grew up. I worked out what sort of job would make sure I got Kiara back and decided I had to be a lawyer because they earned good money and knew how to argue.’ His smile mocked himself. ‘I went back to school and worked every hour of every day. I got a scholarship to a top school. I was a social experiment—kid with a brain but no income, let’s give that a try.’
‘That must have been tough.’
‘Tough was seeing my sister in a foster home. But they were kind people and they helped both of us.’
‘And you did it. You made a life for both of you.’ I mentally compared him to my dad, who’d left us. ‘You did a great job. She’s confident and charming and thinks you’re the best.’ It explained the bond I saw and the respect she showed him.
‘It was hard letting her move into an apartment with her friends.’
‘Independence is a good thing. And I’m glad you did,’ I said softly, ‘or we wouldn’t be on our own now.’
His eyes met mine and then he stood up and pulled me to my feet.
‘Let’s make the most of it.’
We didn’t leave the apartment for five days. Most of that time was spent in bed having amazing sex, but also talking and laughing as we swapped stories.
I told him about the time I’d built a rocket in the kitchen and made a hole in the ceiling. He told me how he’d blown up the toilets in school using sodium taken from an unlocked chemistry lab.
I still couldn’t believe how much this cool, controlled guy had hidden in his past. I was thirsty to know more. Favorite band, favorite drink, best place he’d visited… ‘Tell me your most embarrassing moment ever.’
He rolled onto his side and looked at me from under those thick, dark lashes. ‘I once went to this wedding where the bridesmaid burst out of her dress—’
Laughing, I pushed him onto his back and straddled him. My hair slid forward, covering us both. ‘If that hadn’t happened we wouldn’t be here.’
‘Yes, we would.’ His hands were in my hair. ‘But I was planning to make my move after the wedding, not during. I was going to persuade you to cry on my shoulder.’
‘I’m not much of a crier.’ I lowered my head and kissed him, my mouth lingering on his. ‘You’re so sexy. Say something to me in Italian.’
‘Pizza Margherita.’
I giggled, but the crazy thing was he even managed to make that sound sexy.
My phone beeped. I ignored it.
‘Say something else.’
‘Il mio vestito è strappato.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘My dress has torn.’
And I was laughing. Laughing in bed with a guy I wanted to know more about. I wanted to know everything, and finally I reached across to read my text from Rosie: five days in bed with the same guy isn’t emotionless sex.
And I stopped laughing and realized with a flash of panic that I wasn’t supposed to want to know more. Emotionless, unattached sex should be exactly that, but somehow over the past five days I’d managed to form an attachment.
I was in trouble.
Chapter Nine
‘This is your fault.’ I stopped eating Nutella out of the jar and poked the spoon towards my sister. ‘You invited him here for Christmas.’
‘Yes. Christmas! I didn’t expect you to go home with him and stay until Easter. I was about to report you to the police as a missing person. What the hell did you do for five days?’
