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He was shivering uncontrollably, his heart beating like a trapped bird.
‘I’ll arrange for some money to be transferred this morning,’ he heard himself say. ‘I have to go now—’
With a hand that shook slightly he switched off his phone and sat down on the bed.
Earlier, he had felt so calm—lighter, almost. But the conversation with Alida had changed everything. Now his heart was racing, his nerves screaming like a car alarm.
How could he have been so stupid? Telling Flora about his past had been foolhardy and self-indulgent—for surely that same past had taught him that letting someone into your life, your head and, worse, your heart was tantamount to giving them control over you. He felt sick to his stomach. Look at how his father had changed after marrying Alida. Look at how Alida still knew exactly which buttons to press to make him feel helpless and trapped—
He should have followed his instincts to keep his private life private. Confiding in Flora had undermined all the efforts he’d made to keep control of his life. It had been careless, reckless even—he winced. How could he have thought he might want something other than sex with Flora?
He gritted his teeth. She’d caught him off guard. But it wouldn’t happen again.
He couldn’t let himself feel differently. Any more than he could alter his past. What he and Flora had was purely physical. He knew that now. And he needed to remind her of that fact as soon and as firmly as possible.
Picking up his clothes, he began to get dressed.
* * *
Humming softly, Flora picked up the heavy cast-iron skillet and put it on the hotplate. Next she filled the kettle with water and put it beside the skillet. Frowning, she looked round for the coffee pot. It wasn’t in its normal place at the back of the stove. Nor was it in the dishwasher.
Bending over, she opened the doors of the huge dresser that nearly reached the ceiling and peered along the shelves. It wasn’t there either. Sighing, she straightened up—and found Massimo watching her intently.
‘Hi!’
She stared at him uncertainly. Despite privately acknowledging her feelings for him, she didn’t really know what to expect from Massimo. Some awkwardness, maybe. But definitely closeness, given what they’d shared last night. Only he didn’t seem awkward. Nor did he seem particularly inclined to be intimate. Standing just inside the doorway, hands deep in the pockets of his jeans, he looked more wary than anything.
His manner set her teeth on edge. It was hard to believe that she had been about to cook this man breakfast. Let alone tell him that she loved him.
But last night had been pretty intense for both of them. Probably he just needed a little time to relax.
‘I can’t find the coffee pot. The blue one,’ she said, turning back towards the dresser. ‘Have you seen it?’
He shook his head. ‘No. But it might be in my study.’
He walked slowly across the room, his impassive face jarring against her nervous, hopeful excitement and quite suddenly the kitchen felt small and oppressive. ‘I’ll go and get it,’ she said hurriedly. ‘You can get the bacon—I mean the pancetta—out of the fridge.’
Standing in the hallway, she breathed out slowly. It had all felt so clear and right earlier.
Loving him had felt right.
Only now she wasn’t so sure.
He was acting so strangely. Aloof and on edge—almost as though he was waiting to say something...
Pushing open the door to the room Massimo had appropriated for an office, she saw the coffee pot immediately. It was on his desk.
Sighing, she picked it up and turned to leave—and then, glancing down at the papers scattered across his desk, she felt the handle start to slip from her fingers. She gripp
ed it more tightly. Inside her chest her heart had started to pound painfully hard.
She must be mistaken...but she knew she wasn’t.
Massimo had moved. He was standing next to the stove, staring across the kitchen, his eyes dark and unreadable.
As she walked through the door he looked up at her, and she felt a surge of fury at his cool expression.
Trying to hold on to her temper, she put the coffee pot down on the worktop with exaggerated care and then casually, almost as an afterthought, dropped the plans she’d found in his study onto the kitchen table.
