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She smiled. “Not that I know of.” She sobered. “I mean, I dated. Nothing serious. I get bored easily.”
He turned to face her and now there was heat in his eyes, a heat that sparked low down in her abdomen. “I beg to differ.”
She bit back what it had been on the tip of her tongue to say – that he was different. His ego didn’t need the praise and she didn’t welcome the admission, even to herself. His eyes probed hers and it was as though a spotlight was pointing at her, highlighting every dip and crevice of her soul.
She shifted a little in the seat, turning to look at the ancient streetscape, noting the sweep of the road, the cobbled pavers laid eons ago, the flowers tumbling from window boxes. A little way down, a man and woman walked arm in arm, their faces close, their smiles broad. Something pulled in Elodie’s chest.
Envy.
Envy of their happy, relaxed, enamoured state. Envy of the love that obviously surrounded them.
She turned back to Fiero. He was looking at the couple as well, his expression inscrutable. “Why did your marriage break up?”
The question had his eyes shifting back to hers. “Many reasons.”
“That’s not fair,” she murmured softly. “I’ve answered all of your questions.”
“That was the deal we made.”
She swallowed, acid in her mouth. The feeling of being on tenterhooks was not one she relished. She stood abruptly, walking across the street and putting what remained of her gelati in the bin. When she returned to the seat, she didn’t meet Fiero’s eyes and she didn’t sit down, instead, she stayed where she was, hovering a couple of feet away, the distance feeling strangely important.
Frustration was pummelling her. Frustration at their uneven footing, at the way he was so in control, like a closed book, determined to feel certain things and then nothing, determined to keep himself at arm’s length from her gnawing at her insides. Even his proposition the night before had been so tempered and calm, like a business proposal, the clear delineations between sex and sanity ones he felt comfortable keeping.
She jammed her hands in the pockets of her denim skirt, looking around the corner. They’d wandered for quite a while and she had no idea where they were, but suddenly, she was impatient to be home. “We should get Jack back to the villa. He’s had a big morning.”
“He’s fine. We’re almost at the playground.”
Great. Just what she needed. She bit down on her lip, the emotions exploding through her proving almost impossible to control. “Why don’t you take him? I’m feeling a bit tired.”
But his eyes were on her face, scanning her features, reading every feeling and thought. “Are you?”
She looked away from him, the lie caught in her mouth. He stood, coming to stand in front of her, close, so close she tasted him in her mouth when she inhaled. “You’re running away.”
She didn’t respond.
“You’re angry with me because I didn’t answer your question and now you’re running away.”
“No,” she contradicted after a moment, her voice hushed so Jack wouldn’t pick up on the tone of their conversation. “You’re the one who’s running away. I have every right to ask about your marriage.” Her eyes flashed and anger surged inside of her. She was grateful to that emotion, grateful to feel something other than hurt. “But you clam up whenever I try to get beneath the surface. You have made running away an art form.”
Surprise showed in his face. “My marriage was between Alison and me. I don’t feel comfortable discussing it.”
“With me.”
“With anyone.”
“So you’re fine to sleep with me in the death throes of your marriage but not to tell me why it ended? You’re right – that would be a real betrayal.”
The flesh at the base of his jaw shifted, as he ground his teeth together. “My marriage was over.”
“Not legally.”
“No.”
“Did she know about me? Did you tell her about that night?”
His eyes flared. “No.”
“Because you knew what we did was wrong. You didn’t want to tell her.”
