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‘First, though…’ Aurora said. And instead of taking a seat, as instructed, she removed a large leather bag from her shoulder, took out a bottle of tomato sauce, and placed it on his immaculate, highly polished walnut desk. And then she took out another bottle.
‘Homemade passata from my mother,’ Aurora said, ‘and here is some limoncello from my father.’
Nico glanced over to Marianna, who was trying to keep the shock from her expression as Aurora turned his gleaming desk into a market stall. And then his black gaze returned to Aurora.
‘I don’t need these,’ Nico said, and gave a dismissive wave of his hand. ‘You can take them back with you.’
‘No!’
He had rejected her greeting. And now this!
Nico was not doing as he should. He was not saying that he missed the taste of that homemade sauce, and nor was he inviting her to join him in sharing the feast that the sauce would create.
He was not playing by the endless ingrained codes of home.
But then, she reminded herself, Nico never had.
For if that were the case then Aurora would be his wife.
Aurora Eloise Caruso.
As a teenager she had practised writing that name in her journals and saying it out loud. Now her cheeks flushed, just a little, as she tried to keep the note of anger from her voice. ‘You know very well that my family would never let me visit you without gifts.’
‘This is work—not a visit,’ Nico snapped. ‘You are here for five days to train for the opening of a new hotel; it is not a social occasion. Now, get these things off my desk.’
Nico knew he was being harsh, but he had to set the tone—and not just with Aurora.
The Silibri contingent had been in Rome for just eighteen hours and already he was fed up with the lot of them.
Francesca, who was to be Regional Manager, had brought, of all things, a salami, and left it for him at the reception desk. Did she assume that Nico could not get salami in Rome?
And Pino, who would be chief concierge at the new hotel, had somehow found his private number. Nico guessed he had got it from Aurora. He had given it to her once.
Once…
Nico refused to think of that time now.
The fact was, on their arrival yesterday evening Pino had called and asked Nico where they should go for dinner and what time he would be joining them!
Nico had rather sternly declined to do so.
The village of Silibri had come to Rome, and it seemed determined to bring him several slices of home.
Except Nico had been trying to run from home since he was sixteen.
Was it guilt or duty that always pulled him back?
He truly did not know.
‘Get these off my desk, Aurora,’ he repeated. It was a warning.
‘But I don’t want them.’ She shook her head. ‘I have shoes to buy, and I need the space in my suitcase.’ She fixed him with narrowed eyes. ‘Assuming I’m allowed to shop during non-work hours?’
He almost smiled at her sarcastic tone, but did not.
A smile.
A kiss.
