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“What do you want?” I asked huskily.
“You.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. I swallowed hard. Pressed my lips together and broke eye contact.
Because it would be oh so easy to hold his gaze and let this feeling overcome me, and before I knew it, I would be on the bed under him.
I closed my eyes, hoping the darkness would douse out that image, but it did not. Especially when his fingertip stroked my knee and down my silky wet thigh.
“Beth,” he said, his voice hoarse.
I froze. That was the first time he had actually called me by my name. It was intoxicating. so intimate coming from his lips.
“Go wait outside,” I told him in a croaky voice. “I’ll be ready for dinner soon.”
Chapter 15
BETH
He left the bathroom without another word. I immediately regretted it. My heart wished I could have let him stay. Seen where it led. But that way lay heartache.
Coward, Dolly would have said. Just go with the flow. Everything will turn out just fine.
But look where that had landed her.
I had always thought that by some miracle Dolly would get out of hostessing. She had been full of plans, determined to live a big, beautiful life. One day. And now that one day would never come.
My eyes started to ache again. I wanted to talk to her, pour out my heartache at her passing. Except she was the one who was gone.
Maybe I should have let him kiss it better. Take me to bed and make me forget all about it for a while.
All thoughts of relaxation gone, I heaved myself out of the bathtub. Put myself into the demure blush pink dress. Styled my hair in a chic French twist.
Not that the effort was worth it. Marco’s mother cast me a scathing glance when I joined them in the dining room. Then turned away to pat an imaginary bit of fluff off Marco’s shoulder.
I had dreaded facing a tableful of Marco’s brothers and their knowing scrutiny, but it was just his mother, Marco, and a teenage girl who looked so like Marco that she had to be a relative.
“My sister, Chiara,” he said. “And you’ve already met my mother, Vittoria.”
I was surprised. I hadn’t known he had a sister.
The teenager cast me a sullen look and then fixed her attention back on her phone.
I wished little Amara was here to break the tension. I cast Marco a questioning glance, trying not to notice how fine his broad shoulders looked in that crisp white shirt.
“My niece Amara lives here with us too,” he said, a smile tugging his lips as he kept Amara’s secret. “She had her dinner earlier and her nanny will be putting her to bed now.”
He looked like he wished she was here too. We both exchanged a small smile of shared regret.
A maid finished setting the dishes on the table; delicious looking tomato topped bruschetta, a caprese salad, a heavenly smelling seafood risotto main that made my mouth water, and some stuffed courgettes. We served ourselves in an awkward silence.
Vittoria broke it. “Chiara, put away your phone, please.”
The teenager cast her mother a mutinous look, but did put it aside.
“What did you get up to today?” Marco asked his sister.
“Nothing,” his mother said. “Sat in her room all day.”
