Italian Escape with the CEO

And so a few photos later Pierre picked them up and took them back to the town and Liam led the way to small, discreet restaurant. ‘You get great food in the more touristy places but, according to Elena, this is the best place to eat in all the town.’

‘It smells incredible,’ Ava said as they followed a waiter to a small table in the window. She looked around, took in the simple rustic interior, the wooden tabled topped with jugs filled with sheaves of wheat.

‘The pasta is all handmade in our kitchens,’ the young man explained as he handed them menus. ‘From Cappelli wheat, which is both delicious and healthy. It used to be known as “meat for the poor”.’ Another smile and, ‘I’ll be back in a few minutes for your orders.’

‘Thank you.’ Ava studied the menu and frowned. ‘I may as well just close my eyes and jab. They all sound incredible.’ Quickly she suited action to word. ‘I’m going to have the laganari alla Martinese. Dry-cured ham, dates, local cheese and exotic-sounding mushrooms.’ She glanced at him, saw that his gaze held both amusement and warmth and for some reason she felt colour rise to her cheeks. ‘What about you?’

‘Why don’t you choose for me? You could use the same method.’

She looked at him suspiciously. ‘Why?’

Now he smiled and the heat deepened. ‘Honestly? I want to watch you do it again. You had a really serious frown and you look like you probably did when you were a child opening her Christmas presents.’ He gestured to the menu. ‘And it seems as good a way as any to choose.’

She shook her head. ‘Then you do it. And I get to watch you.’

He raised his eyebrows in an exaggerated movement and she replayed the words. ‘OK. That sounds a little weird, but go ahead.’

His broad shoulders lifted in a shrug and then he closed his eyes and for that instant Ava took the opportunity to study his features. The strength and determination of his jaw and the thickness of his dark eyelashes. His finger hovered and then descended and he opened his eyes. ‘Sagna al baccala. Salt cod and pine nuts and broad beans. I like it.’ Now suspicion tinged his tone. ‘You didn’t take a photo for your collage, did you?’

‘No, but I should have.’

‘I’m not doing it again,’ he said firmly. ‘You have enough photos.’ Once the waiter took their orders he looked at her. ‘What exactly will you do with them?’

‘We need to talk about that,’ she said, and for a moment she felt a sudden pang of regret. Instead she wanted to discuss the menu, the weather, what books she liked, films, music. Like a date? A real date? Was that what she wanted? A small swirl of confusion spiralled in her—the very fact she had to ask the question generated further panic. She had to get a grip. This was fake and she had to remember that. The very last thing she wanted was a relationship with a man who was still in love with his dead wife. All that could lead to was misery. Her own mother had fallen for a man in love with his first wife and had spent her whole life striving to keep him, lived in fear of losing him. But with Liam Ava would already have lost.

‘Go ahead,’ he said and she pulled herself to the present.

‘Well, once we do the “meet the family” tomorrow I’ll start posting the photos on social media.’ She hesitated. ‘I’m not quite sure what may happen next but I think you need to be prepared.’

‘Prepared for what?’

‘There may be quite a bit of publicity. I’ve been in the press recently and in the past.’

‘Exactly. That’s kind of the point.’

‘Yes.’

Liam looked at her. ‘What am I missing?’

‘It’s not a lot of fun. I’ve spent most of my life in the public eye and it’s...intrusive.’

‘OK. Define intrusive.’

Ava hesitated. ‘Let’s say we get asked to do an interview for a glossy magazine. They will ask questions.’

‘Sure. Like our first date and where we met, et cetera, et cetera.’

‘Yes. But they won’t stop there. They will also ask about our past and that will include past relationships.’

‘Oh.’ Liam exhaled a sigh. ‘Of course it will. I should have realised that.’

Ava could see his discomfort at the very idea and she didn’t blame him. In the past days he had barely mentioned his wife at all and she sensed for Liam his marriage was intensely personal.

She sat back as the waiter approached and served their pasta dishes, smiled her thanks and waited until he was out of earshot.

‘It’s not just the questions—there will also be interest. People taking pictures, people talking about us, and it won’t always be positive commentary. When you’re part of a couple people seem to think they have the right to comment on your private life, assess your every move.’

‘You’re speaking from personal experience.’ Liam frowned. ‘Your last relationship was pretty high profile, wasn’t it?’