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‘You’re fluent in both languages?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you speak Italian like a native too... Impressive.’
He didn’t respond. He would not encourage this conversation. Without any encouragement, she would bore of his company and leave.
‘Do you speak other languages?’
He wouldn’t encourage her but it would be the height of rudeness to ignore a direct question. ‘Yes.’
This was like getting blood from a stone, Alessia thought, but instead of deterring her, it only intrigued her. Most people when finding themselves in a private conversation with her fawned and flattered and set out to impress. Others became tongue-tied—it was the cloud of ‘celebrity’ around her that caused it—but long experience at putting those people at ease usually found them loosening up quickly. Gabriel, though, was neither of those people. He was a man who dealt with powerful people and institutions on a daily basis, and carried an air of power and authority in his own right, and everything about his body language was telling her he wanted her to leave. Which only intrigued her more. Because she’d seen that expression in his eyes which had pulsed with something quite different. ‘Which ones?’
‘English, German and Portuguese.’
‘You’re fluent in six languages? That really is impressive.’
Yet more non-response.
‘Do languages come naturally to you?’
There was an almost imperceptible sigh before he answered. ‘Yes.’
‘I speak English fluently, but that’s because I went to boarding school there,’ she told him. ‘I can converse in Spanish as long as it’s taken at a slow pace, but my French is pretty basic, my German diabolical and I’ve never learned any Portuguese.’
She thought she caught a glimmer of humour on Gabriel’s poker face.
‘I suppose good linguistic skills are essential for your line of work,’ she mused into the latest bout of silence, inordinately pleased to have made his face crack into a smile, as tepid as that smile might have been. Gabriel was so serious that she wondered if he ever truly smiled. She wondered if he ever allowed himself to. He was the most intriguing person she’d met in a long, long time. Maybe ever.
‘Yes.’
‘And what made you choose diplomacy as a career? I don’t imagine it came up on a list of career choices when you were at school.’
Another quickly vanishing glimmer of humour. ‘I learned at a young age that I had an aptitude for diplomacy.’
‘Who discovers something like that?’
‘I did.’
‘How?’
Those dreamy light brown eyes suddenly fixed on her. A charge laced her spine, even stronger than the shiver she’d experienced when gazing at him earlier. ‘Forgive me, Your Highness, but that is personal.’
The sudden flash of steel she caught told her his wish for forgiveness was pure lip service. He was giving her a diplomatic answer that translated intomind your own business.
Another charge thrummed through her. This man was no sycophant. This man had a core of steel. That self-containment, coupled with his drop-dead gorgeous looks and tripled with the innate self-confidence that oozed from his bronzed skin, made him the sexiest man she’d ever laid eyes on.
‘That’s perfectly reasonable,’ she assured him although she was perfectly certain he didn’t want or care for her assurance. ‘And please, call me Alessia.’
His jaw tightened but he inclined his head in acknowledgement.
She took another drink of the bourbon, allowing herself a glance over the sculpturally perfect chest she found so fascinating. The moonlight had turned the bronze silver, and if not for the dark hair covering so much of the chest and forearms, she could believe he’d been cast in it.
‘Where do you live?’ she asked, passing the bottle to him. ‘If that’s not considered too personal a question.’
She noticed he made sure not to allow their fingers to touch as he took it from her.
‘I travel a lot with my work.’ He poured a small measure into a glass she hadn’t even noticed him holding.
