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The air between them seemed to thicken, his words making her heart miss a beat in such a maddening and all too predictable way that she wanted to scream. He’d tricked her into coming here. He was vile. Manipulative. Duplicitous.
So why was her stupid body betraying her like this?
Her pulse jolted as he began unbuttoning his shirt.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Getting changed.’ Catching sight of her face, he sighed. ‘We have to eat. Well, I do, anyway. And we’re going to have to face people sooner or later. So let’s get it over with. We’ll show our faces, smile, look loved up and then it’s done.’
‘Fine. Since you put it so nicely,’ she said stiffly. ‘But just because I’m going to dinner with you it doesn’t change anything.’
He looked at her for a long moment. Probably it was a new experience for him. No doubt most women would move continents to have dinner with Vicenzu Trapani.
‘Of course not,’ he murmured. ‘The bathroom’s through there. I’ll see you downstairs.’ His dark eyes met hers, then dropped to her mouth, then lower still. ‘Call me if you need me to zip you up. Or, better still, unzip you. I’ll be happy to help.’
In the bathroom, she washed quickly and changed out of her dress.
How had this happened? At home, when she wanted space, she’d run a bath and lie back, closing her eyes and losing herself in the steam and the silence. And now she was here, hiding in another bathroom from another man.
Only wasn’t that the reason she had agreed to marry Vicè? To change all that? To be someone different?
It wasn’t the only reason.
Her pulse twitched. Did he know the effect he had on her?
Of course.
Vicè was an expert on women—he knew exactly what to look for. He probably thought he had her all worked out, and that when he clicked his fingers she would come running. But he didn’t know her at all.
She glanced down at her dress, her pulse beating unevenly. It was new. Her sister had chosen it for her on a shopping trip in Milan. It had been a rare day of freedom for them. Her mouth twisted. Freedom that had included a posse of bodyguards, of course.
She’d been planning to wear it at the evening function after Claudia’s wedding. Only in the end she hadn’t had the guts to put it on in front of her father.
Glancing down, she felt her skin tighten. The dress was green, a shade brighter than her eyes, and to say that it was ‘fitted’ was an understatement. Had it looked this clinging in the shop? Probably. But after two glasses of Prosecco she hadn’t noticed or cared.
It wasn’t her usual style, any more than the black patent skyscraper heels were. But her sister was always wanting her to dress up, and she’d been so excited, so eager for Imma to buy it.
She lifted her chin and met the gaze of her reflection. She would wear it tonight—for Claudia—and prove to Vicenzu that he knew nothing about her at all.
But as she walked downstairs her bravado began to falter with every step.
Catching sight of him standing with his back to her, his eyes fixed on the sunset lighting up the bay, she felt a rush of panic. Perhaps she should change.
But before she had a chance to retreat he turned and her heart lurched. Suddenly she wasn’t thinking about what she was wearing any more. She was too busy marvelling at his blatant masculine beauty.
He was wearing black trousers, a dark grey polo shirt and loafers, and she liked how he looked. A lot.
Her throat tightened. She liked how he was looking at her even more.
‘Is it too much?’ she asked quickly as his dark gaze skimmed her body.
‘Not at all.’ He hesitated, then took a step forward. ‘It suits you.’
His voice was cool, and she wasn’t sure what he meant by that remark, but she didn’t want to get inside his head to find out. Right now she just wanted to go somewhere, anywhere there were other people—people who would prevent her from doing something stupid.
Even more stupid than marrying him.
Maybe he felt the same way. Or perhaps he was just desperate for company, she thought as he escorted her swiftly and purposefully towards the hotel.
