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Oh, god.
Shame and embarrassment curdled her belly. She lifted the sheet slowly, painstakingly slowly, no idea what time it was, just knowing she needed to shower, to drink a litre of water, to brush her teeth, to put make up on and do her hair, to feel like something approaching herself before she had to face Luca again.
She tiptoed to her suitcase and lifted out the first things she could lay her hand on - a singlet top and pair of jeans, then went to the bathroom, not daring to look over her shoulder to see if he’d woken up. He wasn’t saying anything, so that could mean one of two possibilities. Either he was awake and he’d chosen not to speak to her – which was worrying. Or he was still asleep and she’d been given a reprieve.
After showering, she dressed with fingertips that shook a little and applied her makeup as best she could, just a little foundation beneath her eyes and blush to her pale cheeks. Her hair she pulled into a ponytail before remembering his comment about liking it down. Judging herself, she finger-combed it over one shoulder then hesitated at the door. She couldn’t put this off indefinitely. He might still be sleeping. If so, she could just creep from their room, going in search of breakfast downstairs.
And downstairs in the restaurant she’d no doubt see Ashton and his girlfriend.
Her eyes sparkled with tears.
She was a mess. A complete, total mess.
Flashes of memories kept coming back to her.
She’d hit on her boss. No, she’d done more than hit on him. She’d clumsily attempted to seduce him. Her, Bronte Hill, an executive assistant in his London office, and he, Luca Montebello, tall, handsome, super-rich, suave, sexy Italian God.
She groaned, dropping her head against the door of the bathroom, no idea how she could ever face him again. There was a window in here. Maybe she could climb out? Even in her current mood, it brought a small smile to her face.
A knock at the door a second later startled her upright. Her heart pounded.
“Bronte?”
Oh, crap, oh, crap.
“Are you okay?”
Great, just what she needed. Concern.
She scrunched up her face, knowing she couldn’t really hide in here forever. She wrenched the door inwards, giving herself a scant few seconds to brace for the sight of Luca in his briefs or boxers – whatever he slept in.
Except he’d pulled on a shirt, so there was no naked chest for her to be confronted with. Disappointment was inevitable.
“Buongiorno,” he grinned, like they were old friends. Like nothing had happened the night before. Though, to be fair, nothing had happened, thanks to him and the fact he obviously found her completely undesirable.
“Morning,” she mumbled, flashing him what she hoped passed for a smile.
“How are you feeling?”
Mortified. Ashamed. Like she’d never drink again. “Fine. You?”
Another grin, this one lightly mocking. “Fine also. Did you sleep well?”
“Uh huh.” She had to get out of there. “Breakfast is in the restaurant downstairs. Did you want something?”
He scanned her face and then nodded. “Sure. Give me a few minutes to freshen up.”
Great. So he was coming with her to breakfast. She pressed her fingers into her chest when she was alone, gulping in a deep breath of air, but that didn’t help. If anything, it made it worse because she could taste him in the room, just the finest hint of his cologne, and his raw masculinity.
With a small groan she moved to the window, staring out, trying to switch her brain off, refusing to think, refusing to remember, even though she happened to be standing in almost the exact spot her attempted-seduction had taken place.
A second later, she realised something that had escaped her at first.
He’d made the bed.
Not just thrown the cover over it, either. It looked as though the housekeepers had been through. The duvet was wrinkle-free, the pillows fluffed and placed as they’d been the day before, cushions arranged neatly, his laptop and work papers were stacked on the bedside table and his shoes were tucked at the foot of the bed.
Now her smile came more easily. It was such a silly, small detail but she would never have thought Luca Montebello was a neat freak. True, he always looked immaculate and when he was in London he kept things in an orderly fashion but this was – not what she’d expected.
