AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘Vicè...’ Closing her eyes, she whispered his name, her voice trembling, her stomach flipping over in frantic response to his words as much as to his mouth, her body screaming in protest as slowly he released her.
Opening her eyes, she found him still watching her, his face impassive again.
‘So,’ he said. ‘How would you like to spend the rest of the day?’
He shifted against her, and as his arm grazed her shoulder blade her heart jerked. Earlier, she’d been worried this wasn’t real. Now, though, she could see that a far more likely scenario was her letting it get real in her imagination. Getting ahead of herself, making connections that simply weren’t there and never would be.
For her, every soft word and dark glance might feel meaningful, but the truth was Vicè liked to flirt. It was his default setting. He liked sex too, and it was great that sex had unlocked this wild, uninhibited woman hiding inside of her. But the year was supposed to be about discovering who she was, and sex was only a part of that.
Essentially, the facts hadn’t changed. Theirs was a marriage of convenience and in a year it would be over. She needed to remember that. And until it was over she was going to have to set some rules.
First rule: take a step back. Stop allowing the passion she found in his arms to mislead her and make her forget why she had agreed to this marriage in the first place.
Second rule: get out there and do and try everything at least once. How else was she going to work out who she was?
Smoothing her sundress over her knees, she said offhandedly, ‘I know I said I didn’t want the two of us to go out in public again, but I’d really like to take a proper look around.’
If he noticed the forced casualness in her voice he didn’t acknowledge it. Instead he leaned back in his seat and gave her an approving smile. ‘Of course, cara. It would be my pleasure.’
* * *
Imma found the hours that followed both enjoyable and enlightening.
The hotel was larger than she had realised, but still small enough to feel like a private sanctuary, with a decor that cleverly blurred the lines between vintage and contemporary, homely and hip. Chequerboard floors sat alongside huge gilt mirrors and faded hand-painted frescoes of the Dolce’s guests and staff.
‘My friend Roberto painted them in exchange for my letting him have a room over the winter,’ Vicè explained as they wandered out into the lushly beautiful tiered gardens.
There were grander, more opulent, more glamorous hotels, she was sure. But there was something special about the Dolce.
She glanced over at where Vicè stood, joking with Edoardo, the hotel’s legendary seventy-year-old pianist, who played everything from show tunes to swing for the guests sipping aperitivi on the terrace.
Unlike most hotels, everything felt authentic, rather than staged to create a certain vibe. But then not many hotels so closely embodied the personality of their owner. The Dolce was Vicè, and so, like him, it was effortlessly glamorous, flirty and cool.
‘Do you want to dance?’
Vicè had stopped in front of her.
‘Edo can play anything. Although I’d steer clear of rap or thrash metal.’
Biting into her smile, she shook her head, feeling suddenly conspicuous as around them everyone seemed to sit up straighter and glance covertly in their direction.
‘Maybe later.’
Grinning, he took her hand. ‘I’ll hold you to that. Come on, I want to show you my favourite view. Ciao, Edo.’ He turned and waved at the older masn.
‘Ciao, boss. Maybe catch up with you and Signora Trapani later? At the party!’
Imma frowned. ‘There’s a party?’
‘Not here—on the yacht.’ When Imma raised her eyebrows, he shrugged. ‘I have a yacht—the Dolphin. I keep her down in the bay for guests who like to cut loose. There’s a party on board tonight, but obviously I wasn’t going to go.’
She felt a ripple of relief—and then, remembering her refusal to dance, she stiffened her shoulders. What had happened to rule number two?
‘Why not?’ she said quickly. ‘I’d like to go.’
‘You would? Okay...well, if that’s what you want to do, great.’ He shook his head. ‘You are full of surprises, cara.’
She gave him a quick, tight smile. Full of fear, more like. How did you even ‘cut loose’?
