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‘If there’s nothing else, I’ll leave this here until morning, Mr Camaro,’ I said, trying to re-establish the professional distance I’d abandoned as soon as I had first encountered him here, weeks ago now.
But after the long hiatus, somehow being in his suite this evening felt so much more intimate... And dangerous. Because he wasn’t the surly, broken man I had encountered then. I sensed the vitality, the intensity, the physical alertness I remembered from so long ago, despite his damaged leg.
He walked into the room, favouring his bad leg, but moving with a lot more of the grace I remembered.
‘Yes, there is something else,’ he said, those emerald eyes sparkling in the dying light. ‘Henri says you have not accepted the contract extension.’
I nodded.
‘Why not?’
‘Because I have another booking,’ I mumbled, hating the way the need flared in my chest, at the thought he actually cared.
‘And yet we both know that is a lie. You are not booked again until September fifteenth.’
‘How do you know that?’ I blurted out, startled to discover he had checked my schedule.
‘So you do not deny it?’ he shot back, neatly avoiding the question as he caught me in the lie.
‘No, I guess not,’ I snapped back, angry with myself.
Why had I lied? I was entitled to leave his employment whenever I wanted now our contract was finished. ‘Your supper is getting cold,’ I said, then turned to leave, intending to escape before this got any more awkward.
‘Don’t go,’ he murmured.
I stopped, shocked by the deep rumble in his tone—as if the words had been wrenched from him.
I swung round, lost for words.
‘I wish for you to stay,’ he said. I could see the struggle on his face. How hard it was for him, not just to admit a weakness, but to ask for my help. He inclined his head towards the tray I had left. ‘Your food, it is the best I have ever tasted. It brought back my appetite when I thought nothing would.’
I was taken aback, not just by the unsolicited praise, but by the way it made me feel. I knew I was an excellent chef, and I already knew he had been devouring my food, but there was something in his voice that suggested we weren’t just talking about my cooking.
I pushed the thought to one side.
Keep it professional, Jess.
‘I’m glad,’ I said, because I was. I didn’t need his approval, but surely there was nothing wrong with accepting his praise.
‘You will sign the contract extension then?’ he asked. His tone made it sound like a command, but then he added, ‘Please.’
The word seemed incongruous on his hard lips. But it was the hooded look in his eyes—the expression on his face—that crucified me.
Something about the whisper of vulnerability and defensiveness, so unlike the man I had met all those years ago, gave me pause...
Would it really be so bad? Could I stay for another month? Watch him heal all the way? Surely once he had become the jaded playboy again, this lingering sense of connection would finally die?
But as my mind raced, trying to justify why I wanted so badly to say yes to him, the wayward sensations—reckless, unstoppable—continued to riot over my skin.
‘I’ll think about it,’ I said.
Even as I dashed out of the room, not waiting for his reply, though, I knew my mind was made up. That it hurt to think of leaving him told me I had to go. I had come here to confront my past, but confronting my feelings for Renzo—and those reckless sensations—terrified me, because they were all mixed up in our present now as well as our past.
Which would have been sad, if it weren’t so pathetic.
CHAPTER NINE
The following night...
