“When I arrived, I only wanted to do one thing: transform the hotel into something Fiori. But my time here has been so much more, Mari, and I have you to thank for that.”
Mari couldn’t reply; her gaze darted to Luca’s. His gaze was sincere. It was no protestation of love, but only a fool would expect such a thing. His statement was absolutely correct. It had been more than either of them expected. She would have to be happy with that. Luca was not in love with her. And she’d get over him in time. She would.
But she returned the handclasp with as much warmth as she had inside her. “It has been a pleasure getting to know you, Luca. And getting to know myself better. I owe you so much. I’m only sorry I don’t know how to repay you.”
She had fought him tooth and nail in the beginning. And then somehow he’d gotten under her skin and she’d let him see a side of her she’d never revealed to anyone before. And in trusting him, she’d fallen in love with him.
Dessert was over, and the last bit had felt like a goodbye. Mari moved to collect her handbag, but Luca put out a hand. “Where are you going?”
She looked up, confused. “Home? I thought dinner was over.”
Luca tugged on her arm gently, pulling her closer. “I’m not ready for it to end yet.”
With his free hand he reached out and flicked the ties on the drapes, closing them in a cocoon of velvet and candlelight.
“Luca…”
“I need to say something here.” He interrupted whatever it was she was going to say. “I’m sorry about yesterday morning, Mariella. I was unbearable and I have no excuse. I can only say that I meant well and realize now how it must have seemed to you.”
She would not cry. She wouldn’t spoil this beautiful evening with tears, no matter how angry or hurt she’d been only hours before. The moment he had kissed her cheeks tonight she’d known that yesterday morning hadn’t been real. He’d been putting on a show. A very effective one. His apology meant more than he knew.
Their bodies hovered closer together, but Mari resisted the urge to take the one step necessary to be pressed against him. “It was a lot to take in at once, Luca. I was hurt by your behavior, but only because I understood. My story isn’t the stuff of polite chit-chat. Your reaction made sense.”
“But you don’t understand Mari, that’s the thing. You don’t understand anything.”
It was Luca who took the step and Mari found her breasts pressed against the fabric of his suit coat. Without thinking she lifted her hand, the silky fabric of her pashmina drifting off her shoulder and hanging from her right elbow. Her finger traced the hard angle of his jaw. “Then help me understand.”
He didn’t answer, instead he reached up and gripped her wrist with his hand and lowered his mouth to hers.
She opened her lips, letting his tongue sweep inside, tasting the tangy sharpness of fine champagne and the dark seduction of cool chocolate.
With his other hand he dragged her closer. The clinking sounds of the dining room echoed behind them, slightly muffled by the seclusion of the alcove. Luca’s lips trailed over her cheek to her ear and down the curve of her neck, dropping feather-light kisses that made her weak in the knees and destroyed any resolve she might have had.
“Luca,” she uttered, shattered, wondering what it would be like to give herself to a man for the first time since that awful day seven years before. To feel safe and protected. Cherished.
“The first time I saw you, your hair was up.” He whispered against her temple and sank her fingers into her waves. “And I knew that moment that one day you’d wear it down and you’d look exactly like you do tonight. Bellissima Mariella.”
She tilted her head back, feeling her hair slide along her shoulder blades as his mouth followed the curve of her neckline towards her collarbone. There was no reason for him to be touching her this way unless…unless…
Sensation after sensation swirled through her, touch, taste, the feel of his body holding hers and the taste of his lips as their mouths clashed again. His fingers found the zipper at the back of her dress and lowered it a few inches, sliding his fingers along the seam while Mari ached to be touched. It ceased to matter where they were.
But he stepped back.
“I can’t do this Mari. It’s not fair.”
Her body still vibrated from his embrace. “I don’t understand.”
Gently he reached out, picked up the trailing end of her shawl and placed it over her naked shoulder. “I cannot be with you tonight knowing that tomorrow…”
He hesitated, the silence so terrible Mari thought she would certainly scream. Finally she broke the silence with the one question she had wanted to ask since this morning but hadn’t had the courage to hear the answer.
“When will you be back?”
For the first time that evening, his gaze skittered away. “I have no plans to return. Once Paris is looked after, I am returning to Florence for the holiday with my family.”
A family that didn’t include her. No matter how welcome she’d felt in his arms, it came down to the resounding fact that she was an outsider.
And with that, everything went sinking to her toes.