‘What is obvious?’ she demanded, her voice only quavering slightly. ‘This is not the airport.’
‘No, it is my home.’
Ava narrowed her eyes on him. ‘At the risk of pointing out more of the obvious, your home is not an airport! How do we get from here to Ragusa?’
He stopped so suddenly she ran right into the back of him. Hot, hard and sturdy.
His hand shot out to steady her and excitement flowered inside her as he smiled wolfishly down at her. She wrenched her arm away, glaring at him.
She held her breath.
‘Helicopter,’ he said simply.
* * *
Helicopter? Once they reached the roof Ava was unable to take her eyes off the rotating blades.
She couldn’t go up in that.
Moreover, what sort of man had a helipad on the roof of his house?
If you could call this palace a home.
She’d only glimpsed it this morning, in her run for safety, but in the broad light of day, following Gianluca’s confident stride up the stairs, along a brightly lit hall, passing an enfilade of windows, she realised it was indeed close to being a palace—in the centre of Rome. No wonder he behaved as if he’d invented the word entitlement.
And here on the roof, with the wind stirring up from the rotorblades roping her hair around her neck, Ava was struck by the view of the city.
Somehow seeing the palazzo in broad daylight made it all too real.
But it was the rotating blades that held her in thrall.
‘I’m not climbing into that!’ she shouted as Gianluca gestured for her to follow.
‘Too late, dolcezza.’ His resonant voice was easily heard above the whup-whup of the rotors. ‘We have an appointment in Ragusa and this is the quickest way to get us there.’
Ragusa. Yes. Of course that was what she wanted too. But he didn’t have to make it sound as if he wanted this to be over.
The noise of the rotors put paid to her thoughts as he secured her harness belt. She told herself for the nth time that thousands of people went up in helicopters every year and nobody fell out, and then she had the unexpected thought that he might not be coming with her.
He leaned in. ‘Ava, you don’t have a problem with heights, do you?’
She shook her head vigorously, finding she didn’t have a voice for the words Don’t leave me, which were sticking in her throat.
‘Motion sickness?’
‘No,’ she choked.
He gave her a long, measured look and then surprisingly lifted one of his hands and stroked her hair.
‘Bene.’
She couldn’t bear him to be kind to her or she wouldn’t be able to do this. Didn’t he understand all of this was difficult for her? Being with him after seven years, knowing at the other end of this flight was his family and social scrutiny—something she’d never been able to bear?
Didn’t he understand her anger was the only thing holding her together? A welling of hot, harsh fury spouted through her as if in answer to her need, and as he moved to bring the helmet down over her head she thrust her hands up to take it from him.
‘I’m not incapable, you know. I do ride a bike.’
The pilot beside her let rip a laugh and said something to Gianluca in Italian, too fast and distorted by the noise for her to follow. She imagined it wasn’t complimentary.
What she did understand was that he was giving up the controls to Gianluca.
‘You’re flying this thing?’
‘A man should try everything once, cara.’
She tried not to enjoy the moment. She really did. But the moment they were in the air her heart almost lifted out of her chest.
Down below lay Rome in all its glory, and beside her, his hands steady on the controls, the scion of one of Rome’s most storied families. Beside her, ordinary Ava Lord, to whom nothing remarkable ever happened that she hadn’t planned, organised and executed herself.
‘It’s good, yes?’
He was looking at her with those mesmerising eyes, his wide, sensual mouth warm with amusement.
She didn’t know what to say without sounding stupid, over-awed, thrilled beyond measure. She felt like a little girl at the top of a rollercoaster.
He gave a husky, appreciative laugh at her baffled expression.
She had to say something. ‘When did you learn to fly one of these?’
‘In the Marina Militare.’
She hadn’t seen that coming. ‘You were in the Navy?’
‘Si.’
‘But—’ she began, and then stopped. What? He can’t have a life beyond what you allow him, Ava?
Had she really spent the last seven years with Gianluca Benedetti sitting in a little box marked ‘mine’?
‘Before or after you were everyone’s favourite soccer star?’
‘I played football for five minutes professionally, cara. It’s hardly been my life.’