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Except it was a very, very big deal. The idea of lying in a teeny double bed with Luca’s body just beside hers? Her heart rate was hammering her like crazy. Nerves, she thought with chagrin. Nerves because she’d only ever been with one man and he’d broken her heart silly, and he was going to be here at this wedding with his gorgeous new girlfriend. And Bronte would be lying in a double bed with her boss, who’d taken pity on her tear-stained blotchy face and offered to help. This was an unmitigated disaster.
“It’s not too late to go, Luca,” she groaned, shaking her head, so he laughed, a deep rumble, and came to put his hands on her shoulders.
“What is it you’re worried about?”
His voice sent spirals of something unfamiliar whooshing through her.
“You’ve read the newspaper articles. You think I won’t be able to keep my hands off you?”
Her throat felt thick. She blinked up at him.
“You think I’m as bad as the tabloids would have you believe? A different woman in my bed every night?”
She shook her head, her tongue heavy. “I – never thought about it.”
Another laugh. “You’re one of a kind.”
“Because I don’t spend time postulating about my boss’s sex life?”
“Because you have no interest in gossip. You’re as straight-laced as they come.”
“I’m bored, Bron. Bored with Netflix on a Saturday night, bored with the same meals for dinner every week, bored with quiet walks through the heath on a Sunday. I’m twenty six years old, for God’s sake. I want to live my life before it’s over.” Ashton’s remarks hadn’t been designed to cut so deep, but they had. Not only had he broken up with her, he’d systematically dismantled everything she’d thought of as a very nice life.
Renewed pain slashed her spine. She looked away, her chin jutted.
“Listen to me,” Luca moved her shoulders gently, a friendly shake to draw her attention back. Pushing away her pain she did so, lifting her face to his.
“This is a room. Most of the weekend you’ll be busy with wedding commitments and I can work from the restaurant or bar. Hell, I can work from my car, if it comes to it. Or a country pub, whatever. This is where we will come and sleep, you on your side of the bed and me on mine, and it will be as simple as that. Understood?”
Her heart squeezed but she didn’t nod. She looked through the bathroom door towards the bed, uncertainty passing her.
“Maybe if I ask they’ll be able to find us a different room.”
“By all means,” he said with a voice that had shifted gear, a voice that was a little darker, less patient. “Given that it’s your sister’s wedding though, I would imagine all rooms have been reserved for months. But if you really don’t trust me, then go ahead.”
“It’s not that I don’t trust you –,” she denied quickly, mortified he might think so.
He dropped his hands away. “I’m not interested in you, Bronte. You’re a secretary in my office. You work for my family. Have I ever, in all the time you’ve worked for Montebellos, given you reason to think I would have my wicked way with you the second we were alone?”
Great. Now she really felt like she wanted the ground to swallow her deep into the bowels of the earth. Humiliated didn’t come close to explaining it. She shook her head, never having felt sillier and less attractive in her whole life.
“No.” She was pleased her voice emerged no-nonsense. She sounded much better than she felt.
“Of course not, because you’re someone I employ and that’s a line I’d never cross. Not only that, you’re quite clearly still in love with your ex, and only someone with zero morals or integrity would take advantage of you at a time like this.”
She shuddered at his description. “I’m not still in love with him.”
“Of course you are. Why else would you care so much about turning up here single?”
“Because he’s bringing his new girlfriend.”
There was a knock at the door and Bronte was glad to bring the inquisition to an end. She moved away from Luca before he could answer, taking the four steps necessary to reach the door and pulling it inwards.
“Hello,” a dainty blonde stood on the other side, freckles dancing across her ski jump nose, round blue eyes framed in thick black lashes. “I’m Jane. This is my home.” Her smile was spontaneous. “I just wanted to make sure everything was okay with the room.”
With a feeling of uncertainty, Bronte threw a glance over her shoulder. Luca was propped in the doorframe, watching her with sardonic amusement. Feeling gauche and naïve, she nonetheless straightened her spine and turned back to Jane. “Actually, it is on the smaller side. I don’t suppose there’s –,”
The blonde’s smile dropped as she looked over Bronte’s shoulder with a grimace, her cheeks flushing pink.
