Dragging her mind back to the present, Stasia showered and quickly plaited her heavy mane of copper hair so that it fell in a neat tube between her narrow shoulder blades.
Then she turned her attention to the wardrobe.
There were numerous designer outfits, all quite formal and not to her taste but towards the back of the rail she found a simple linen dress in a soft shade of peach. Simple in all but cost, she thought wryly as she caught a glimpse of the label. It was miles away from her usually colourful, casual style but it was that or paint-spattered jeans so she slipped it on anyway. One critical glance in the mirror told her that it suited her.
She looked elegant and classy.
Like a fortune hunter?
She bit her lip and then dismissed the thought. It was too late to start worrying again about what his family thought of her. Far too late.
She left the luxurious bathroom, chin held high, and settled herself back in the cream leather seat.
Rico was still on the phone and she gritted her teeth, remembering how many times she'd threatened to throw his phone away when they'd been together. She stared blankly out of the window, feeling steadily sicker as she contemplated the meeting ahead of her.
She actually hadn't seen Chiara since that fatal evening a year previously—
It was a moment or two before she realized that Rico had finally stopped talking and had transferred his lean, muscular length to the seat next to her.
'I'm sorry to just abandon you like that.' he said in cool tones, stretching out a hand for the drink that the uniformed hostess had prepared for him. "There were calls I needed to make. That dress suits you.'
The unexpected compliment startled her and when his broad shoulder brushed against hers she had to stop herself from jumping back in her seat. She felt the tension spread through her body, felt the exaggerated beat of her heart against her chest as her body responded to his nearness. She breathed in his tantalizing male scent and suddenly all her senses throbbed and hummed. He was her power source. One touch and her entire body sizzled with sexual energy.
Angry with herself, she shifted in her seat.
What was the matter with her?
How could she still want him, knowing what sort of man he was? Knowing that he didn't want her anywhere other than the bedroom?
Not once in their relationship had he actually said he loved her. So how had she managed to fool herself, even for a short time, that he might?
Because of the way he held her and touched her, she acknowledged miserably. For a short, blissful time she'd confused the touch of a man in love with that of a man who was a skilled lover. Not the same thing, as she'd eventually discovered to her cost.
Discreetly moving so that their arms were no longer touching, she glanced at him, attempting to match the indifference he was displaying. 'We both know this isn't a social visit.' she replied, her tone every bit as cool as his. 'I don't expect to be entertained and I certainly don't expect to interrupt your business. I never did when we were married. I finally accepted that you were, in fact, already married to your mobile phone. Why would I expect anything different now?'
For Rico, business came first.
'Don't bait me, Stasia.' He shot her a cold look. 'I'm not in the mood and since we can no longer end our rows in bed there seems little point in having them.'
The mere mention of bed made her tummy tumble and, against her will, her eyes dropped to his beautifully sculpted mouth. He'd kissed her into silence on more occasions than she cared to remember. When they'd both been devoured by the flames of anger it had been se
x which had quenched that anger and left them both spent.
It was the only level on which they had communicated. Only even then they'd been saying different things. She'd been saying I love you while he'd been saying I want you.
Her eyes lifted to his. 'I'm not baiting you.'
'Yes, you are. With every flash of your green eyes and every word you don't speak.' His eyes narrowed and something shifted in his dark gaze. 'And it wasn't business. For your information, my first call was to a neurosurgeon who specializes in traumatic brain injury. I wanted to seek his opinion on the possibility of brain damage and make sure that there are no procedures that have been overlooked that could help Chiara. My second call was to the friend who she was staying with at the time of the accident and the third was to the hospital in Sicily. Having now been away from her side for most of the day, naturally I was keen for an update.'
'Sicily?' She stared at him. aghast, diverted from uncomfortable thoughts by the sheer shock of hearing his last statement. 'We're going to Sicily’
He frowned. 'Si. where did you think?'
'Rome.' She lifted a hand to her throat, feeling her pulse beating rapidly under her fingers. 'I assumed we were going to Rome.'
He had offices all over the globe but the headquarters of the Crisanti Corporation were in Rome. It was where he spent a large proportion of his time.
He shrugged dismissively, as if her misunderstanding were of no consequence. 'You assumed wrongly. Chiara was in Sicily at the time of her accident. That is where we are going.'