Taming the Notorious Sicilian

What did she eat?

That question was answered when he opened her freezer.

It wasn’t just his chest that felt constricted. His heart felt as if it had been placed in a vice.

The freezer was full. Three trays crammed with ready meals for one.

The ceiling above him creaked, jolting him out of the trance he hadn’t realised he’d fallen into.

Experiencing a pang of guilt at rifling through her stuff, he shut the freezer door and went back to the jar of instant coffee he’d found and the small bag of sugar.

No wonder she had wanted to experience a little bit of life.

He’d never met anyone who lived such a solitary existence. Not that anyone would guess. Hannah wasn’t antisocial. On the contrary, she was good company. Better than good. Warm, witty... Beautiful. Sexy.

Before too long she emerged to join him in the sparse living room, having changed into a pair of faded jeans and a black T-shirt.

‘Your coffee’s on the table,’ he said, rising from the sofa he’d sat on. He would bet the small dining table in the corner was rarely used for eating on, loaded as it was with medical journals and heaps of paper neatly laid in piles.

‘Thank you.’ She picked it up and walked past him to the single seat, leaving a waft of light, fruity fragrance in her wake. She curled up on it, cradling her mug.

Now her eyes met his properly, a brightness glistening from them. ‘Francesco, what are you doing here?’

‘I want to know why you’re avoiding me.’

‘I’m not.’

‘Don’t tell me lies.’

‘I haven’t seen you to avoid you.’

‘You said you were busy this weekend, yet here you are, at home.’

Her head rolled back, her chest rising and falling even more sharply. ‘I’ve only just got back from work, as you well know, and I’m on the rota for tomorrow’s night shift. So yes, I am busy.’

‘Look at me,’ he commanded. He would keep control of his temper if it killed him.

With obvious reluctance, she met his gaze.

‘Last weekend... You do realise what we shared was out of this world?’

Her cheeks pinked. ‘It was very nice.’

‘There are many words to describe it, but nice isn’t one of them. You and me...’

‘There is no you and me,’ she blurted, interrupting him. ‘I’m sorry to have to put it so crassly, but I don’t want to see you again. Last weekend was very nice but there will be no repeat performance.’

‘You think not?’ he said, trying his hardest to keep his tone soft, but when she dug her hand into her pocket and pulled out her phone, the red mist seemed to descend as if from nowhere. ‘Do not turn that thing on.’

Her eyes widened as if startled before narrowing. ‘Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do. You’re not my father.’

‘I’m not trying...’

‘You certainly are.’

‘Will you stop interrupting me?’ He raised his voice for the first time.

Her mouth dropped open.

‘It’s a bit much feeling as if I’m in competition with a phone,’ he carried on, uncaring that she had turned a whiter shade of white. He knew without having to be told that there was no competition, because the phone had won without even trying. Because as far as Dr Hannah Chapman was concerned, her phone was all she needed.

He rose to his feet, his anger swelling like an awoken cobra, his venom primed. ‘You hide behind it. I bet you sleep with it on your pillow.’

His comment was so close to the mark that Hannah cringed inwardly and outwardly. Dear God, why had he come here? Why hadn’t he just taken the hint and kept away?

She hadn’t asked for any of this. All she’d wanted was to experience one night as a real woman.

She’d ended up with so much more than she’d bargained for.

‘Do you really want to spend the rest of your life with nothing but a phone to keep you warm at night?’

‘What I want is none of your business,’ she said, her tongue running away as she added, ‘but just to clarify what I told you in your nightclub, I do not want a relationship—not with you, not with anyone.’

He threw his arms out, a sneer on his face. ‘Of course you don’t want a relationship. Your life is so fulfilling as it is.’

‘It is to me.’ How she stopped herself screaming that in his face she would never know.

‘Look at you. Look at this place. You’re hiding away from life. You’re like one of those mussels we ate in the casino—you threw yourself at me to experience some of what you’d been missing out on, got what you wanted, then retreated right back into your shell without any thought to the consequences.’