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‘Not for me, thank you,’ Carla said when she was offered a glass. ‘I have another training session in an hour.’
‘Ah, sì.’ Olivio smiled indulgently. ‘My daughter, she’s the ultimate perfectionist. Never resting until the gold crown is on her head. And then she gets to work again the very next day.’
Carla paled slightly, a trace of anxiety passing over her face before she regained her composure.
Beside her, Draco tensed and a momentary trace of anger pursed his lips. But he lifted his glass at Olivio’s prompt.
‘To your future union . May it last for as long as there are stars in the sky.’
Carla excused herself as soon as the toasts were done, walking away with a painfully erect posture. As soon as he’d finished his drink, Olivio summoned another member of staff.
‘This is Stefano, your personal butler. He will show you to your rooms and give you a tour of the grounds and facilities when you’re ready. I have a few more guests arriving today, but tonight we’re doing things a little informally. Food and drinks will be ready whenever you are out here on the terrace. There’s nothing more special than dining al fresco on a cool Tuscan night.’ Although he smiled, the warmth didn’t quite reach his eyes.
The men shook hands, and Draco steered her out of the room.
The interior of the villa was opulence personified, with marble the dominant feature gleaming on the floors and walls. Followed a close second by Carla. Her pictures and trophies were displayed proudly on every surface. On the walls, several portraits and pictures with world leaders and dignitaries documented her from childhood to womanhood. It was clear Olivio regarded his daughter as his prized possession.
Rebel batted away the desperate envy she felt towards the other woman as the memory of the scene with her own father threatened to cut her off at the knees. Locking it away at the back of her mind once more, Rebel focused instead on the endless stream of Carla-mania, experiencing a touch of unease as she realised how extensive the displays were.
She was forcing herself not to think about the more disturbing interaction between Draco and Carla when she entered their designated suite and stumbled to a halt. Peripherally, she heard Draco dismiss Stefano and shut the door behind him, but she couldn’t look away from the bed.
It was huge. Set on a pedestal made for lovers. With no other bed or divan in sight.
‘Staring in horror at the bed won’t let it magically dissolve into twin beds, glikia mou,’ Draco drawled as he walked past her, pulling his shirt from his trousers as he crossed to what she assumed was a dressing room.
She stared, dry-mouthed, as he unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off. Discarding it on the centre island, he toed off his shoes as he went to a shelf and selected a white polo shirt. Barefooted, he strutted back into the room, then paused, one eyebrow raised at her.
‘Are you staring at me in horror now because you want me to disappear?’
Rebel knew she was gaping at his contoured chest. The expanse of golden, vibrant skin made her tingle from head to toe. Which was bad. Really, really bad.
‘I...we didn’t discuss sleeping arrangements,’ she blurted.
‘Because it was inevitable that we would have to share a room with one bed in it for obvious reasons.’
The fever that had gripped her spiked. ‘Well, you should’ve told me so I was better prepared, seeing as I’m not as well-versed in fake engagements as you seem to be.’
‘Keep your voice down,’ he warned as he sauntered towards her.
‘Oh, please. You don’t really think Olivio’s skulking outside, eavesdropping on us, do you?’
He stopped in front of her. Still shirtless. More devastating to her senses. ‘You tell me. Do you think our performance convinced him?’
‘I don’t think anything convinces Olivio that he can’t hold physically in his hand.’
Grey eyes narrowed at her. ‘What makes you say that?’
‘Most people keep their trophies in a cabinet in a special room. He keeps Carla’s trophies and pictures within easy view and reach, as if he needs a visual reminder of his and her success. I bet he’s framed every endorsement he’s negotiated on her behalf too. So I guess you were right about this.’ She wriggled her ring finger. ‘If nothing else, the fat diamond should work for us. Can you put your shirt on?’ she snapped, forcing her knees to lock so she didn’t retreat from the sinful temptation that was his bare torso. Or worse, lunge at him!
Both his eyebrows arched and a wolfish grin curved his lips. ‘Why, Arabella, you’d think you’d never seen a half-naked man before.’
