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‘That’s enough,’ she snapped.
* * *
Vicè stopped. His pulse was racing.
In that moment when he and Imma had been talking to Matteo he’d forgotten that their marriage wasn’t real. More confusingly, watching her face soften, he’d wanted it to be real.
Pulse slowing, he thought back to when he’d agreed to marry her. At the time he’d been too stunned by her conditions, too determined to get back his father’s business, to think about what it would mean to live this particular lie. He’d been lying for so long, to so many people, why would one more matter?
Except now it did.
He wanted to stop, to erase the past and start again.
And not just his marriage to Imma. He wanted to go back—way, way back, to before his father’s death—and live his whole life differently.
He turned to face her, his expression benign, one eyebrow raised questioningly. ‘Enough what?’
‘I don’t want you touching me,’ she snapped.
‘Really?’ he said, one eyebrow raised sceptically. ‘You didn’t seem to have any objections on the plane. You know, when you were sitting on my lap...’
Watching the pink flush rise over her face up to her hairline, Vicè held his breath. Was it embarrassment or desire? Maybe it was embarrassment at her desire?
Briefly he wondered what she would do if he pulled her closer and kissed her. Kissed her until she melted into him and she was his again. Beneath the overhanging greenery, he saw her eyes had darkened but, glancing over at her taut, flushed face, he pushed back against the heat rising like a wave inside his body.
Sadly this wasn’t the right time or place.
‘In fact, things seemed to be getting quite...cosy.’ He drew the word out, elongating it deliberately until the colour in her cheeks grew darker.
She ignored his remark and, tipping her head back in the manner of a queen addressing a commoner, she gave him a glacial stare. ‘Are you going to show me where we’re going or do I have to find my own way?’
He sighed. ‘Isn’t it a little early in our married life to start with the nagging, cara? Could we at least get to our one-week anniversary first?’
Whistling softly, he sidestepped, moving past her furious face.
Coming to Portofino had been a whim. But, watching her reaction as they’d pu
lled up in front of the hotel, he had felt his stomach grow warm. She had obviously been expecting some seedy ‘no-tell motel’, but he could tell she was surprised. And impressed.
He breathed in on a rush of pleasure. Was it impressive? He tried to see it through her eyes.
To himself, and to everyone else too—especially his family—he’d always downplayed how much he cared about the Dolce, making out that it was more of a hobby than a business so nobody would suspect that it mattered to him. But Imma’s open-mouthed wonder made him want to stop pretending and tell her how he really felt.
At the villa, he unlocked the door, feeling the usual rush of conflicting emotions.
He loved the spacious rooms. The polished hardwood floors, high ceilings and antique Murano chandeliers all captured the glamour of a bygone era, and the tall windows caught the gentle sea breeze and offered mesmerising views of the serene cerulean bay.
It was the perfect backdrop for his dolce far niente lifestyle. But it was not home. Home would only ever be his family’s estate in Sicily.
Turning, he found Imma standing at the entrance, one foot over the threshold. He felt his breath catch. With her dark hair tumbling over her shoulders, and anger mingling with apprehension in her green eyes, she looked some like a woodland nymph who had stumbled across a hunter.
It took him a moment to realise that he was the hunter. Another to realise that he didn’t like how that made him feel.
He felt something pinch inside his chest. Revenge was supposed to be sweet, but he hated the guarded expression on her face—and knowing that he was the cause of it.
‘Okay, this is it. I’ll give you a tour of the house first, and then we can just chill for a bit. Maybe have an aperitivo and then—’
Distracted by the various and all equally tempting versions of ‘and then’ playing out inside his head, he broke off from what he was saying and headed towards the kitchen.
