AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Looking at her was like looking through a kaleidoscope: one twist and the whole picture shifted into something new, so that he couldn’t imagine ever getting bored with her.
He felt his body harden. It had been a very long time since he’d got an erection from just looking at a woman.
Containing his temper, and the ache in his groin, he smiled back at her. ‘But I’ll always be your first, in so many ways, and that means something—don’t you think?’
Watching colour suffuse her face, he knew he had got to her.
Leaning back in his seat, he glanced out of the window. ‘So which godforsaken rock are we heading to now?’ he asked tauntingly. ‘Hopefully one with fewer monkeys and more beaches. I mean, this is our honeymoon, after all.’
‘This is not our honeymoon.’
She leaned forward, her blush spreading over her collarbone, her narrowed green eyes revealing the depth of her irritation.
‘This is business. We need to convince everyone, particularly our parents, that we are in love and that this marriage is real.’
Her mouth twisted.
‘Otherwise you won’t get your father’s olive oil company back. And we both know that’s all you’re interested in.’
His pulse twitched. Not true. Right now he was extremely interested in whether the skin beneath the neckline of her dress was also flushed.
He forced his eyes to meet hers. Had she been inside his head on the flight over to Gibraltar, and in the car on the way to the register office, she would have found herself to be right. He had been furious at having lost the upper hand—having thrown it away, more like—and it had only been the thought of the family business that had kept him going.
Marriage to Imma was just a means to an end. In a year’s time he would have his reward and he would have fulfilled his promise to Ciro. Vengeance would be his.
But a year was a long time. And right now, with Imma sitting so close, the business seemed less important than the way the pulse in her throat seemed to be leaping out at him through her skin.
‘Fine...whatever.’ He shrugged, lounging back and letting his arm droop over the back of his seat with a languid carelessness he didn’t feel. ‘But I meant what I said about monkeys and beaches.’
She gave him a look of exasperation.
‘Fine...whatever. If it’s such a big deal to
you, then you can choose where we go.’
‘Okay, then—let’s go to Portofino. Let’s go to my hotel.’
He’d spoken unthinkingly. The words had just appeared fully formed on his lips before he’d even realised what he was saying. Only now that he had said it, he knew that was what he wanted to do.
She was looking at him with a mixture of shock and confusion, as if he’d suddenly announced he wanted her to sleep in a bath of spaghetti. He felt nettled by her reaction.
For some inexplicable reason—maybe a desire to be on his home turf, or perhaps to prove there was a whole lot more to him than just a pretty face—he wanted her to see La Dolce Vita.
‘Is that a problem?’ he asked quietly.
But before she could reply, the steward appeared beside them.
‘Signora Trapani—Chef would like to know if you’re ready for lunch to be served?’
Imma nodded. ‘Yes—grazie, Fedele.’
The steward began clearing the table.
‘Scusa—I’m in the way. Here, let me move.’
Moving smoothly, Vicè swapped his seat for the one next to Imma. Taking advantage of Fedele’s presence, he slid an arm around her waist, one hand snaking out to clasp hers firmly.
‘That’s better—isn’t it, cara?’
