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Her face was pale and set, and there was a tension to her body he recognised. It was as though she was bracing herself for bad news.
‘I’ve heard it all before,’ she said, staring past him. ‘Let me guess. You’re worried things are moving too fast. Or maybe you respect me too much? That’s always popular.’
He frowned. Her words made no sense. ‘I don’t understand—’
She ignored him. ‘You know, back at the wedding I thought you were different. But I guess when it comes to the crunch you’re just like everyone else.’
The bitterness in her voice was unmistakable now.
‘I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time, Signor Trapani. But don’t worry. You can go back to your precious hotel and the rest of your “sweet life” now. Just tell Marco where you need to go and he’ll take you.’
There was a slight judder as the helicopter touched down, and before he had a chance to respond, even to absorb her words, she’d pulled off her seat belt and was out of the door and gone.
He stared after her, shock and outrage swirling up inside him, and then he was wrenching himself free and following her into the warm night air. She was moving fast, and he found himself having to run to catch up with her.
He’d never run after a woman metaphorically, let alone in reality, and the fact that he was having to do so made his irritation intensify with every step.
‘Imma!’
She carried on walking and, frustrated by the sight of the smooth, untroubled knot at the nape of her neck, he caught her arm, jerking her round to face him.
‘Where’s all this coming from? All I said was—’
Her eyes narrowed and she shook his hand off. ‘I heard you the first time.’
Watching the bow of her mouth tremble, Vicè felt his breath hitch in his throat. Before her anger had been crimped, confined by a forced politeness, now she was clearly furious.
‘Look, I get it. It was a wedding. You were bored, or curious—maybe both. But I do have feelings and I am done with being picked up and dropped like some toy.’
She glared at him, her hands curling into fists. ‘But I suppose I should be thankful that at least one Trapani brother has the courage of his convictions.’
His jaw clenched. Being compared unfavourably to Ciro was such a frequent occurrence he rarely even reacted any more, but Imma’s criticism, delivered in that clipped, dismissive manner, somehow got under his skin, so that suddenly he was having to rein in his temper, usually so slow to rise.
‘Meaning?’ he said.
Her lip curled with contempt. ‘I mean, unlike you, Ciro’s not scared of my father.’
* * *
Listening to her words echo in the silence, Imma felt slightly sick.
She hadn’t meant to say that out loud, only there was no real point in continuing with this farce.
Vicenzu Trapani was a beautiful liar, and she was an unforgivable idiot.
What was worse, for just a few short hours she had actually started to hope...started to think that Vicè was different—that, incredibly, like Claudia, she had met a man who was prepared to stand proudly beside her.
And not just any man—a man who was in a class of his own. Cool, glamorous, and with a smile that made her body ache and a mouth that turned her inside out.
Remembering her uninhibited response to his kiss, she felt her skin grow warm. She had kissed men before—three, to be precise—but Vicè’s kiss had been like nothing she’d ever experienced, and if Marco’s disembodied voice hadn’t interrupted she would have gone on kissing him forever.
Her cheeks burned as she replayed that sound she’d made when he’d pulled her against his hard body. It had felt so good, so right—but clearly not good or right enough for him to want to continue.
She hung on to her temper as he took a step towards her, his eyes narrowing like chips of volcanic rock.
‘Scared? Of your father? Let me tell you something, Imma. I feel many things for your father, but fear isn’t one of them. I’m no more scared of him than Ciro is.’
Gone was the handsome easy-going playboy. The skin across his cheekbones was tight, like a ship’s sail in a strong wind. But it was the rawness in his voice that convinced her that he was telling the truth.
