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By the time she reached her room, Giada was drowning in guilt. Sagging against the door after she shut it, she took a deep breath, tried to reason with herself.
He’d asked for reassurance. She’d given it without truly knowing whether she was able to do so. But what other choice had she had?
A low moan escaped her and with every sinew in her body, she wanted to rush across the room, dig out the phone, and call Gigi. Demand to know precisely when she was retrieving Alessio’s heirloom and to hell with the radio silence they’d agreed on.
But even as the thought tempted her, she knew she couldn’t risk it. Aside from the threat of exposing her sister, that look on Alessio’s face just now was enough to stay her hand. That tiniest sliver of vulnerability quickly doused but present enough to have made her breath catch. To have triggered a yearning to know exactly what the family crest meant to him. Why he was so desperate to have it returned to him.
Of course, she hadn’t dared. She might have fast-talked her way into this position but the last thing she wanted to do was taunt the dragon.
Her gaze fell on the bed, and she moved towards it.
A quick shower and bed.
Tomorrow would be here soon enough. A day she’d have to spend in the chalet with Alessio, waiting for his brother to return.
Another moan slid free before she could stop it but, feeling a little fed up with herself for her wilting-rose performance, she straightened her spine. Crossing the room, she reminded herself that had Alessio given Gigi the full interview as he’d promised or not humiliated her enough to anger her, they wouldn’t be in this situation.
He was merely reaping the consequences of his actions.
The shower was glorious, the full jets easing a few layers of her tension but by no means all of them. Giada suspected she wouldn’t be able to fully relax until she left here.
Whenever that was.
The thought led to tossing and turning for hours after she slid between the sumptuous sheets. Without her phone or a watch, she had no idea what time she eventually drifted off, but she knew she’d slept way longer than usual when she jolted upright with a sinking feeling in her stomach.
The rich, heavy curtains blocking the wide windows had effectively kept the white landscape from disturbing her but she still frowned as her feet hit the floor.
Something had definitely woken her.
Padding barefoot towards the door, she pulled it open, only to freeze when the sound of a very angry, very frustrated male reached her ears.
Giada frowned down at the flimsy nightgown Gigi had packed for her. It was barely more than a few strings of lace and netting. Shaking her head at how her sister could wear this—or any other items of clothes she owned—she gladly tugged it off and reached for the silk bathrobe she’d found in the bathroom last night.
It covered her from neck to calves more fully than anything else in her suitcase. Feeling better armoured, she brushed her teeth, pulled her hair into a ponytail and stepped out of her room.
The hallway was deserted. As were the foyer, dining and living rooms.
She hadn’t actually had a full tour of the chalet so she wasn’t sure where the irate conversation was taking place besides Alessio’s study, which also turned out to be empty.
But as she was heading for the kitchen, she spotted the staircase leading to a lower level. And from the stairwell, she heard Alessio snapping in quick-fire Sicilian at some hapless recipient of his ire.
She debated the wisdom of bearding the lion in his den, especially without the bolstering foundation of coffee. But her feet, apparently possessing a mind of their own, propelled her down the stairs before she could stop herself.
The basement was a sublime revelation that would no doubt register properly when her attention wasn’t entirely absorbed by the man pacing the heated flagstones.
As she took him in, panic of a different sort joined the roiling in her belly.
Alessio wore only a pair of black cotton lounge bottoms, sweat dripping down his very bare, very sweaty torso. The discarded boxing gloves on a bench nearby indicated what he’d been doing when he’d been interrupted.
Fireworks exploded beneath her skin and Giada was thankful her robe was thick enough to hide her body’s reaction from him. Otherwise she would’ve needed to throw herself into the large indoor-outdoor pool sparkling invitingly just beyond a set of wide glass doors with wispy strands of steam rising off it.
Alessio hadn’t noticed her yet. When he paced away from her, she gaped at the sight of his bare back, and the tattoos inked deep into his skin.
The first etching was of a sword, hilted with what looked like a ruby and emerald, with a fist clenched tight around it. Then followed a set of black roman numerals from where the tip of the blade ended, all the way down to the bottom of his spine.
It was mesmerising and she knew deep in her bones it meant something deeply personal to him. Her fingers itched to touch so badly, a sound broke from her mouth before she could stall it.
Breath held, she watched him spin around.
