Whisked Away by the Italian Tycoon

She gulped, realised she was hanging on his every word now, tugged into the depths of his eyes, intoxicated by the words, by the play of moonlight on his strong features. The catch of his accented voice added to the spell and she knew danger loomed. But somehow she couldn’t bring herself to care. ‘But a picture captures that beauty.’

‘Or I can put it into my memory banks.’

‘Memory distorts things, a picture doesn’t.’ Her voice sounded breathless and she realised she had stepped closer to him.

‘Not true. A picture can tell a lie. Think of all the fake smiles, pictures taken to pretend everything is all right.’

‘A good photographer bypasses that. If you look closely you can see the fake, it’s something in the eyes, or the tilt of the lips.’ Now her eyes fell to his lips, the firm contour of them, and she caught her breath.

‘Fair enough, but if you are always recording a moment you aren’t living it. If you look at life through a lens, then you always have something between you and reality. You’re experiencing it at one remove.’ The dip and cadence of his voice sent a shiver over her skin and she moved forward another step. ‘It is important to experience the moment.’

‘Like this?’ She couldn’t have stopped herself if she tried; she took one more step, placed her hands on his shoulders and kissed him. Had meant it to be a quick brushing of the lips but she hadn’t reckoned on the impact, gave a small gasp of sheer delight.

And then he cupped her face gently and lowered his lips to hers again, let out a small groan and now she tasted a hint of grapefruit and the sweetness of chocolate. Then her arms went round his neck and he deepened the kiss and she was lost. The scent and sounds of the Turin night seemed to dim and mute and condense until all she was aware of was Luca and that she wanted this to last for ever.

But it couldn’t. Eventually reality intruded into the bubble of sensuality. They broke apart and Emily stared at him. What had she done? Why, oh, why had she kissed him? And how could it be so sinfully wonderful? How could she have been so swept away that she’d forgotten everything: professionalism and, even worse, her grief? How could she have allowed such joy to fizz through her—not only allowed, but actively sought it out? The betrayal of her grief appalled her even as her whole body still buzzed.

‘I... I have to go.’ Turning, she stumbled through the crowd. A cascade of horror at her actions ran through her as her brain relived the kiss, caused her to barely see the crowds around her, the glare of the lights, the exclamations of annoyance. All she wanted, all she needed, was the sanctuary of her hotel, where she could retreat to bed and try to block this from her mind.

‘Emily. Wait.’

The sound of her name permeated the fog of regret and she recognised Luca’s voice. She halted and spun round so quickly she almost collided into him. Braced herself, hands up to avoid so much as an accidental touch.

He moved to the side out of the way of passers-by. ‘Emily. I am sorry.’

‘You have nothing to apologise for. I kissed you.’ Anger at her own actions mingled with the swirl of guilt that she could have been so shallow.

‘And I kissed you back. That is not acceptable behaviour.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I want to make this right.’ Emily could see the trouble in his eyes as he ran his hands through his dishevelled hair.

‘I want to make it not to have happened. To erase it from our memory banks.’ Something she suspected wouldn’t be possible however much she wished it. How could she have let attraction trump common sense and simple common decency? She was grieving and her baby deserved a time of mourning. Work had become a necessity but the pursuit of pleasure had been wrong.

Luca exhaled. ‘We can’t pretend it never happened but...’

‘We can make sure it doesn’t happen again. It won’t. I can assure you of that.’

He hesitated, raised a hand and dropped it again and it occurred to Emily that Luca was rattled. Clearly the kiss had affected him too and it would appear he regretted it as much as she did.

He settled for a nod. ‘In that case I will meet you tomorrow morning for the tour of the factory.’

Turning, she walked almost blindly, her mind churning with regret, her body aching with guilt. Tears threatened and she increased her pace, desperate to return to the hotel where she could lie down on the cool sheets and simply weep.

CHAPTER SEVEN

LUCA WAITED IN the hotel lobby, watched the lift doors open and Emily step out, disconcerted anew by how her beauty affected him. But today as she approached him that impact was instantly diluted by worry. There were smudges under her eyes, eyes that had a washed-out look. Had she cried herself to sleep?

And if so why? The kiss had been a mistake. He’d be the first to acknowledge that; guilt still prodded him at his own stupidity. But it didn’t warrant tears. He studied her face covertly, wondered if perhaps he’d been wrong. Wished he didn’t care so much, didn’t feel so angry with himself that he had clearly hurt her. Stop. Hell, she could have got shampoo in her eyes or just slept badly.

‘Good morning.’ He focused on keeping his voice steady.

‘Good morning.’ Her voice gave nothing away, but her expression held wariness as she crossed the lobby, and as they walked through the revolving glass door he saw the effort she made to hold herself aloof so as not to risk even the smallest chance of accidental contact.

Actions he mirrored as they both climbed into the back of the car that would take them to the factory, the idea of stopping at a café for a bicerin now impossible. Once inside she scrunched herself as close to her side window as was humanly possible as the car pulled away from the kerb and the weight of silence descended.

Luca cleared his throat. ‘The weather is a bit cloudier today.’

‘Yes. Especially for this time of year.’

That seemed to cover the weather. ‘I hope you will enjoy today,’ he said.