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And just like that her own anger turned to air.
‘I thought you’d changed your mind.’ She swallowed. ‘Like all the others.’
There was a beat of silence and she heard him breathe out unsteadily.
‘I panicked,’ he said.
His dark eyes found hers, and the naked heat in them sent a jolt through her body.
‘But not because I wanted to back out. I thought I’d come on too strong.’ He hesitated, and then, reaching out, took her hand and pulled her closer. ‘I meant what I said earlier. I want to get to know you better.’
As he gazed down at her she felt her pulse begin to beat a little faster.
‘And if you still want that too then I won’t let anything or anyone—including your father—get in the way of that happening. Do you understand?’
Her heart was pressing against her ribs. It was what she’d wanted to hear for so long—and, more importantly, it was clear he meant it.
Nodding slowly, she let him pull her into his arms.
CHAPTER THREE
‘SO, WHO ARE these “others”?’
Glancing up at Vicè, Imma frowned. Neither of them was hungry, but they were drinking wine on the vast terrace next to the pool. Or rather he was drinking. She was too jittery to do anything but clutch the stem of her glass. Besides, just looking at him made her tongue stick to the roof of her mouth.
Watching him languidly stretch out his long legs, she felt knots form in her stomach. He was so perfect, with his dark poet’s eyes and panther-like grace...
Trying to stay calm, she gazed past him. It was a bad idea. Somebody—probably Marianna, the housekeeper—had lit some candles, and the twitching flames made the curves of his face even more dangerously appealing.
Accompanying the darkness was the lightest of breezes—a whisper of dry air from Africa—and on it came the scent of the roses and jasmine that Marianna cherished in the garden that surrounded the villa on all sides.
The undiluted romance of it all sent a tremor through her blood.
She cleared her throat. ‘Others?’
He picked up his wine glass, lounging back in his seat, his dark eyes roaming her face. ‘Earlier, you said something about me changing my mind “like the others.”’
‘Oh, that...’ She felt a prickle spread ov
er her skin and down her spine. ‘It’s nothing, really.’
How could someone like him truly understand? But he held her gaze.
She sighed. ‘Just that my dates were always ever so keen on me—until they worked out who my father was. And then—’
‘Oh, I see,’ he said softly.
She nodded. ‘Papà has a reputation. Friends in low places. I’m sure you’ve read the stories about him?’
He shook his head, his eyes gleaming. ‘Too busy reading about myself.’
The teasing note in his voice made her skin sting. Pulse quickening, she glanced away. What was he thinking when he looked at her like that? And why did her body like it so much?
Reaching across the table, he took her hand. ‘Look, what they can’t find out they make up. It’s not important.’
His voice was gentle but his dark eyes were burning into her, the intensity of their focus accelerating her already racing pulse. He was everything she wanted, but everything she feared. Compelling. Confident. Curious about her.
She had never talked like this to anyone. Her father’s moods were too changeable and Claudia was so young and innocent.
