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She was breathless after her outburst. Breathless and breathing fire, but she was glad too, that he had reminded her of all the reasons she hated him, that he thought he could manufacture the result he wanted by manipulating people and using them for his own ends.
‘Do you realise,’ Luca asked, leaning forward and cradling his wine glass in his hands, ‘how your eyes glow when you are angry? Did you know they burned like flames in a fire?’
She sucked in air, blindsided by the change in topic, but more so because she had expected anger back in return. She had been prepared for Luca to fight, expecting him to fight, if only to defend his low actions. Whereas his calm deliberations and an analysis of her eye colour had knocked the wind from her sails.
‘I was angry,’ she said, uncomfortable and unnerved that he could find things about her that nobody else had ever told her. Things that she herself didn’t know. ‘I still am.’
‘It’s not just when you’re angry though,’ he continued as their meals arrived, the waiter placing their plates with a flourish before disappearing on a bow. ‘They glowed like that last night when you came. I look forward to seeing them burn that way for me again tonight.’
She wasn’t sure which way was up after that. The meal passed in a blur, she ate and the beef melted in her mouth, but five minutes after her plate was whisked efficiently away, she couldn’t have described how it tasted. Five minutes after he said something, she couldn’t have remembered his words. Not when her whole being seemed focused not on the meal, but on the senses he stirred and by the knowledge of what would come afterwards.
Every word he spoke stroked her senses. Every heated look stoked the fire burning deep inside her belly. Every single smile had the ability to worm its way under her skin.
God, but he looked so good when he smiled. Generous lips swept open to reveal white teeth. Not perfect teeth, she noted with some satisfaction, for one eye tooth angled and hugged too close to one of his front teeth to be absolutely perfect. And yet somehow that made him more real than make believe. Somehow that only worked to make him more perfect. And still he looked so good that logic got spun on its head and she might even imagine for one infinitesimal moment that...
But no.
She brought herself up with a thump. Took a drink of frizzante water to cool her heated senses. There could be no imagining. Not where Luca Barbarigo was concerned.
But there could be tonight.
An entire month of tonights.
Her body hummed as dessert was short-circuited for coffee.
Anticipation built to fever pitch in her veins, as lingering to enjoy the view was short-circuited for the promise of pleasure.
The boats were still darting across the basin like fireflies; most of the tables around them were still full, when Luca had clearly had enough. ‘It’s time,’ he said throatily, and there seemed nothing left to say when the hunger in his eyes told her all she needed to hear.
He guided her through the restaurant, the touch of his hand at her lower back no more than the graze of his fingertips, and yet every part of her body seemed focused on that spot, as if he’d tied a ribbon between them that kept her close.
And this time Luca all but ignored the greetings that were called out to him. He ignored the eye contact that would ensure recognition and guarantee acknowledgement. He stopped not once in his quest to get her out of the restaurant and down the stairs and into the waiting water taxi.
For me, she told herself. He is avoiding them for me, and that knowledge was as empowering as it was intoxicating.
All the more empowering given he had forgiven a debt—a massive debt—for the pleasure of her company.
And a question that had been niggling away at her wanted answering.
What was this all about?
Why her? Sure, her mother owed him a fortune, but surely there were plenty of women who would be prepared to grace Luca’s arm and his bed for however long it took without sacrificing a cent of her mother’s debt. Why did he want her? What was his game?
On the taxi he suggested they stand outside and watch the moving light show along the canal, and he took her hand and led her through to the rear deck. ‘You’re frowning,’ he noticed, wrapping his arms around her as she held onto the rail as the taxi moved away from the dock.
She stiffened a little. ‘Maybe because I don’t understand you.’
She felt him shrug against her back. ‘What’s so hard to understand?’
‘Why you want me.’
‘I’m a man who likes women,’ he said, peeling her away to spin her around to face him. ‘And you are—’ his eyes lowered, raking over her, and they might just as well have been raking hot coals over her skin ‘—unmistakably all woman. Why wouldn’t I want you?’ He leant down closer, his lips drawing closer, and fear the size of a football kicked off in her gut. She turned her head away.
