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But the idea of accepting something so lavish from Anastasios rubbed Phoebe the wrong way. Even after the day they’d shared, she couldn’t forget the genesis of their relationship, the things he’d thought about her, the cheque he’d written her.
“I’ll borrow it for tonight,” she compromised. “Then you can have it back.”
“It’s not really my style,” he said seriously.
She laughed. “You could pull off anything.”
He lifted his finger, gently tapping the underside of her chin so their eyes met. “You look very, very beautiful, Phoebe.”
Pleasure warmed her cheeks. “It’s just the dress.”
“No, it’s most definitely what’s beneath the dress.”
Desire made the hairs at the back of her neck stand on end.
“It’s a little fancy for dinner on the deck, though,” she murmured.
“Just as well we’re going out.”
Her stomach swished. “Where to?”
He leaned closer. “It’s a surprise.”
Her pulse was thready. She pulled back, to meet his eyes, then wished she hadn’t as pieces inside of her locked into place, making her feel…complete. The word breezed through her, inspiring a warning, as well as a thrill, because the word was perfect. It was just how she felt. Just in that moment, just for tonight.
“Another first,” she said, forty five minutes later, as the helicopter circled over Rome and Phoebe craned to see everything she could of the ancient city.
Her enthusiasm for things was novel and addictive. The women he usually dated—if a drink in a bar before taking them to bed could be called dating—were so sophisticated it hurt, and would never have shown even a hint of the pure, unadulterated delight Phoebe was expressing.
“Oh, Anastasios,” she said quickly. “I’ve seen so many pictures, but I never dreamed it could be so pretty.”
Her words came to him through the headsets they both wore, and she spoke quickly, her voice high pitched.
“Where are we going?”
His response was simply to grin, and bring the helicopter in lower, for the second time in as many days, over the Xenakis Corporation’s high rise, where a helipad stood at the top. He landed with ease, flicked off the instruments, unfastened his seatbelt before reaching over and laying his hands on hers. It wasn’t necessary. She was more than capable of unclicking the thing herself, but having his hands so low on her hips lit a fire in his gut that powered him.
She turned to face him, lips parted, those expressive eyes showing that while Rome had captivated her, he was the cherry on top.
She showed him the same enthusiasm she felt for this city, for the world he was opening up to her, but pleasure was short lived. Always there was the question in the back of his mind: was this how it had been for his father?
He pulled away, his smile tight, and if he’d turned back to look at Phoebe, he would have seen the confusion briefly dim her pleasure. But then her hand lifted to the necklace and she toyed with it, smile restored.
One of his drivers was at her door, opening it, so by the time Anastasios rounded the helicopter, Phoebe was on the rooftop, and Anastasios was very, very aware, on a cellular level, of the way the evening breeze pulled at her dress, so that she might as well have been naked. He was also aware of the way his driver’s gaze lingered on her figure a moment too long, his appreciation apparent.
Anastasios’ hand tightened by his side, and he looked away, catching his breath and his temper.
“I’m excited,” she murmured, moving closer and putting her hand in the crook of his arm, the sweetness of her words and her gesture blowing away his bad mood like sand in a storm.
Downstairs, a sleek black car was waiting. He opened the door before the driver could, his body close to Phoebe’s as she stepped into the car and wriggled to the far side. A moment later, he brought his body down beside hers, close enough that their thighs touched.
This evening already felt like a masterclass in foreplay.
For dinner, he’d chosen a hotel with a rooftop restaurant overlooking il colloseo. It was far more touristic than he would ordinarily frequent, but he knew Phoebe would love it—he was right. She was so captivated by the beauty of the view, she didn’t seem to notice the way people looked at her. Everyone from the waitstaff to the patrons stared as she crossed the space, hands lifted to her lips. She turned to face him, tears in her eyes.
“This is incredible.”
Was that his heart, thumping so hard, as though he’d run three marathons, back-to-back?
