Brunetti's Secret Son

‘What views?’

‘They wanted me to put him in the care of nannies to start, and then boarding school when he was four—’

Romeo’s curse stemmed the flow of her narrative. ‘So he wouldn’t get in the way of your career?’ he bit out.

‘Yes,’ she replied, her throat painful with the admission that no matter what she achieved, she wouldn’t be worthy in her parents’ eyes.

His breath hissed out in pure rage. ‘Madonna mia,’ he sliced out, his nostrils flaring as he struggled to control himself. ‘Did you consider it?’ he asked with a narrow-eyed stare.

‘No. I gave up my job, enrolled in a gourmet cooking course, then moved to Ranelagh to open the restaurant.’

A morose silence fell over the table, their half-eaten meal growing cold as the sharp cries of cicadas pierced the night.

‘This wasn’t how I planned this evening unfolding,’ Romeo said several minutes later after he’d refilled her glass.

Maisie laughed self-deprecatingly, that buzz in her veins somehow making the pain throbbing in her chest sharper. She was sure it was light-headedness that made her enquire breezily, ‘So how had you planned this evening going, then?’

He didn’t answer for a long time. Then he stood, tall, imposing, breathtaking. ‘Come, we’ll walk on the beach for a while.’ He grabbed his glass and the half-finished bottle in one hand and held out his other. ‘Let the night air wash away unpalatable memories.’

Maisie knew she ought to refuse, that the alcohol swirling through her bloodstream would inhibit any rational decisions she needed to make.

And yet she found herself sliding her hand into his, rising to her feet and discarding her shoes when he instructed her to.

The walk to the beach was lazy, the sultry night air and soft ukulele-threaded music emerging from hidden speakers seeming to slow everything down to a heavy, sensual, irresistible tempo.

He let go of her hand when they reached the sand, filled their glasses with the last of the champagne, then walked a few feet away to dispose of the bottle.

Toes curling in the warm sand, she strolled to the water’s edge, laughing softly when the cool water splashed over her feet.

For a single moment, Maisie dared to wonder how it would be to be in this place with the man of her dreams under different circumstances; if she’d been on a real honeymoon, not a desperate attempt to thwart a wizened old thug’s threats.

The path her parents had set her on as a child hadn’t left much room for dreaming. She’d been too busy trying to earn their love, to make herself worthy of their acceptance, to entertain such flights of fancy.

But she was a grown woman now, and surely there was nothing wrong with letting her imagination run wild for a few minutes, in letting her senses be overwhelmed by this beautiful place, this breathtaking man beside her?

She drained her second glass and didn’t protest when Romeo took it away, then returned to stand behind her. Her breath shuddered out when he slid his hands over her shoulders and started a gentle massage of the tension-knotted muscles.

‘What are you doing, Romeo?’ she asked shakily after several minutes, when she started to melt beneath the warm kneading.

‘You’re tense. Why?’

‘Probably because you’re touching me.’

‘You were tense before I touched you. Did I do something to make you this way?’

She released a single bark of laughter. ‘The whole world doesn’t revolve around you, Romeo.’

‘Perhaps not, but if there’s a problem going on with you it needs to be addressed, do you not agree?’ He turned her around, looked into her face and frowned. ‘Are you bored? Do you require more challenges?’

‘No, I’m finding the lessons with Chef Sylvain illuminating and Mahina is teaching me a few Tongan recipes that will come in handy when I return to Ranelagh.’

His mouth compressed but he nodded. ‘But you’re not happy. Don’t deny it.’

She tried to step out of his hypnotising sphere, but he held her by the elbows.

‘This afternoon you thought you knew what ailed me.’

His gaze sharpened, then he gave a wry smile. ‘Maybe it was my own need talking.’

‘What...what need?’

‘The need that claws beneath my skin, threatens to eat me alive...’

She made a barely audible sound when he pulled the clip from her hair and the heavy knot tumbled over her shoulders. Strong fingers slid through her hair in slow, sensual caresses. Maisie realised her dream was sliding dangerously into a yearning for reality that would be hard to push back in a bottle should she set it free.