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His expression didn’t alter, but she could sense he was pleased with her reaction.
‘I’ll save the guided tour for another time.’
His lip curved, and she felt his smile curl its way through her pelvis.
‘I’m sure you’ll be wanting to get out of those clothes.’
Refusing to take the bait, she lifted her chin. ‘So what happens at the hotel?’
Shifting in his seat, he changed gear, his smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. ‘Well, there are people who come and stay and use the rooms—I call them guests—’
She clenched her jaw. ‘I meant what’s the plan for us?’
‘Relax, cara.’ He was grinning now. ‘We’ll just play it by ear.’
‘That’s not a plan,’ she snapped.
Back on the plane, she had told herself that it was a good idea to come here. La Dolce Vita was a magnet for Hollywood actors, rock stars and rappers, so there was bound to be a bunch of paparazzi hanging around the hotel. Obviously they would be hot news for a couple of days, but it would all die down pretty quickly and then their lives could go back to normal.
‘Normal’ with the occasional necessary public display of affection.
Now, though, she was starting to see flaws in the plan—the major one being that Vicè didn’t appear to have a plan.
‘It’ll be fine,’ he said.
They were heading up a hill now, along a road edged with cypress trees and pines. Away from the town it was quieter, the air heavy with the scent of honeysuckle and lemon trees, and there was a surprising lushness to the greenery around them.
She felt the car slow again, her heartbeat accelerating as he turned between two scuffed pillars.
‘Don’t worry—I can do all the talking.’
He made it sound so easy. But then, of course, he was good at painting castles in the air.
Remembering how effortlessly he had persuaded her to believe in him, she gritted her teeth. ‘As long as you keep to the script and don’t contradict me—’
‘Spoken like a true wife,’ he said softly, stopping the car. Pulling off his sunglasses, he glanced over his shoulder. ‘We’re here.’
Her heart gave a startled leap and, blinking into the sunlight, Imma looked up and felt her mouth drop open. She’d seen photos, but nothing did justice to the building in front of her.
Surrounded by palm trees, flecked with sunlight, the peaches-and-cream-coloured hotel oozed Italian Riviera style. But this was more than just a playground for VIPs, she thought, watching a flurry of petals flutter down from the wisteria-draped facade. It was magical, and the knowledge that Vicè was the man behind the magic made her heart hammer in her ears.
She jumped slightly as Vicè opened her door.
‘It used to be a monastery, would you believe?’
He gave her one of his pulse-fluttering smiles and she bit her lip. In this mood he was impossible to resist—just like the hand he was holding out to her.
‘No, I wouldn’t.’
His fingers threaded through hers and she stepped out of the car, her muscles tightening as he slid an arm around her waist.
‘It’s true. The monks kept getting overrun by pirates, so they abandoned it. Moved further inland.’
‘What happened to the pirates?’
‘Oh, they’re still here.’ He smiled, his dark eyes glittering in the early-evening sunlight. ‘One of them, anyway.’
The heat of his body matched the heat in his eyes. For a moment he stared down at her, and the pull between them she’d been trying so hard to ignore flared to life inside her.
