She rose out of the pool, careful not to look at the wet clinginess of his boxers. He folded the towel around her, his movements brisk as he rubbed the moisture off her. Then he swung her into his arms and carried her to the enclosed cabana a few feet away.
Two silk-covered loungers stood side by side, separated by a table laid out with several platters of food, from local delicacies to caviar on blinis. In a sterling silver tub a linen-draped bottle of vintage champagne chilled on ice.
Marco set her down on the lounger and picked up the bottle.
Sasha forced her gaze from the play of muscles and looked at the table. ‘There’s enough here to feed an army.’ Reaching for a small plate, she dished out grilled prawns and fragrant rice.
‘You don’t like caviar?’
She grimaced. ‘It smells funny and tastes disgusting. I don’t know why people eat the stuff.’ She took a mouthful of her food and felt the explosion of textures on her tongue. Thankfully she managed to swallow without choking. ‘Now, this is heavenly.’ She took another mouthful and groaned.
Marco took his seat across from her and held out one glass of champagne, his gaze never leaving hers. What she glimpsed in the heated depths made her heart quicken.
‘Marco—’
‘Eat. We’ll talk when you’re done.’
How can I eat? she wanted to ask. Especially when his eyes followed her every move. But words refused to form on her lips. It was as if he’d cast some sort of spell on her. Maybe he was a vampire after all, she thought hysterically.
The thought should have lightened her mood, made it easier for her to cope, but all it did was cause a fevered shudder to race down her spine.
Clawing in a desperate breath, she set the plate aside. ‘Let’s talk now. You invited me to the concert, then ignored me to make out with your girlfriend. What else is there to talk about?’
‘Flavia’s not my girlfriend, and I wasn’t making out with her. She was congratulating me on the team’s win, just like a lot of people have done tonight.’
‘She was all over you. And you didn’t seem to mind.’
‘I was … preoccupied.’
She snorted. ‘Evidently.’
‘Para el amor de Dios! I was waiting in the VIP room for you! The Prime Minister turned up when I was about to come and meet you. I tried to get away as quickly as possible, only to find you were more interested in plastering yourself all over your favourite rock star. It was very evident you didn’t have a bra on, but tell me—were you even wearing panties under that dress?’
A harsh flush of anger tinged his cheekbones. This was the angriest she’d ever seen Marco. The reason why stopped her breath.
‘You were jealous?’
His jaw clenched. ‘Do you mean was that what I expected when I had the band flown over for you? No. Did I want to break every bone in his pathetically thin body? Sí. For starters.’
The air thickened around them.
A thousand different questions rushed into her mind. One emerged.
‘I’m not stupid, Marco, I know where this is going. But what about the consequences? The ones that made you avoid me for the past three weeks?’
He abandoned his glass and rested his hands on his knees, his eyes never leaving hers. ‘Seeing you in another man’s arms has simplified my decision. For the sake of my sanity, and to avoid murder charges, no more staying away,’ he rasped.
‘Right. Well, I’m happy for you and your sanity. But what about what I want?’
His eyes dropped to her lips. ‘If you know where this is going then you know how badly I want to kiss you. Come here.’
Her mouth, the subject of his very intense scrutiny, tingled so badly she had to curb the urge to bite it. ‘I meant what I said in London. I don’t want a relationship.’
A hard look passed through his eyes. ‘I don’t want a relationship either.’
‘What about your clause?’
‘I’m not a racing driver and I don’t work for the team so I’m exempt. Come here, Sasha.’