The Secret Kept from the Italian

Soon they were heading outside into the dark, balmy night, the warm air silky against Maisie’s skin.

She slid into the dim, luxurious interior of the waiting li

mo, and Antonio sat next to her, the long, hard length of his thigh pressing against her in a way that agitated her senses all over again.

‘How come you never drive?’ she asked as the limo pulled into Milan’s night traffic. ‘You always have a limo or at least a driver.’

Antonio drummed his fingers on the armrest, his gaze on the blur of buildings streaming by outside, as he answered, ‘I haven’t driven in over ten years.’

It didn’t take more than a second for Maisie to realise what he meant. ‘You mean since your brother’s death,’ she stated softly, and Antonio gave a terse nod.

Maisie’s heart twisted inside her. ‘You’ve been tormented by his death for so long, Antonio,’ she said quietly. ‘When are you going to let it go?’

‘I can’t.’ His face was still averted. ‘I’ve tried, and you’ve helped, by listening.’ His voice was tight and suffocated, and Maisie knew how hard this was for him. She wanted to comfort him and assure him that he didn’t need to feel guilty, but she sensed that Antonio was reaching his limit for this kind of conversation. So she settled for simply putting her hand on his arm, and after a second’s pause Antonio rested his hand on top of hers. Neither of them spoke, and they stayed that way until the limo pulled up in front of the opulent hotel where the charity gala was being held.

As Maisie left the limo and walked up the wide marble steps to the hotel her heart felt as if it would burst out of her chest. Pride and joy pulsed through her and she couldn’t keep from shooting Antonio a glance of pure happiness and excitement. He smiled back, and her heart sang.

As they stepped through the hotel’s doors he leaned forward and murmured, ‘I already know you will be the most beautiful woman here tonight.’

Maisie’s chin lifted another notch and she straightened her shoulders as she sailed through the doors on Antonio’s arm.

* * *

The evening had only just begun and it was already spinning out of control. Already, at least a dozen times in the last few days, Antonio had broken his resolution to be remote. It had started when he’d stayed for dinner two nights ago, and then continued when he’d invited Maisie to La Scala, and then shopping, and now this ball. He kept upping the ante when he should have folded. The stakes were simply too high. And yet here he was. Here they were.

Instead of moving away from Maisie, he was moving towards her, and no more so than now, when he walked into a roomful of colleagues and acquaintances with her on his arm.

And, although part of him was muttering that he was being a dangerous fool, Antonio couldn’t regret a thing. Maisie looked radiant, her lovely, heart-shaped face full of joy, her eyes shining like jade stars. And he was proud to be on her arm. Proud and delighted.

Within moments they were swept up in the crowd, and Antonio began introducing her to various people he knew. He didn’t mention Ella or the nature of his relationship to Maisie, although he could sense people’s surprise. He normally came to events such as this one alone, not wanting to complicate things or raise the expectations of his ever-so-brief liaisons. The simple fact of Maisie’s presence was cause enough for people to take note.

And, although he knew she’d been nervous to attend such a glittering event, Maisie held her own marvellously. Her natural warmth and generous nature attracted people to her, even the skinny socialites who were normally quick to unsheathe their claws. Antonio’s pride and delight both grew.

Halfway through the evening Antonio was called into a private conversation with a business associate, and he watched, distracted, as Maisie was swept up by the crowd. He wasn’t worried, not exactly, but he didn’t like her being on her own.

‘You certainly seem smitten,’ Raoul, his business associate, remarked drily. ‘I’ve never seen you with a woman before, Antonio. You usually avoid them unless there’s a bed near by.’

Antonio winced, even though he knew it was true. ‘Maisie isn’t like that.’

‘And neither are you, it seems. Tell me, is it serious?’

Antonio met Raoul’s laughing gaze, suddenly stricken. Of course it wasn’t serious. They weren’t even dating, no matter what had happened three nights ago. The memory of it was still imprinted on his mind, his soul. And yet...despite that, despite everything, he’d somehow managed to deceive himself that he wasn’t changing their status. He certainly wasn’t starting to care about Maisie. He just liked being with her.

‘Now you’re looking like a rabbit trapped in a snare,’ Raoul said with a laugh. ‘And here I was, thinking I was pointing out the obvious.’

‘It’s...’ Antonio’s mind spun. He didn’t want to denigrate Maisie in any way by saying he didn’t care for her, and yet...how could he? How could he risk that much, when he knew how much love hurt, how much you lost when it was gone? When he knew, as sure as anything he’d ever known, that he would end up hurting Maisie because he’d hurt everyone he’d ever cared about? ‘It’s a complicated situation,’ he finally said, making his tone repressive. ‘But I esteem Maisie highly. Very highly indeed.’

Later, when he’d finished his conversation, he went in search of her, and found her standing in the corner, clutching a glass of champagne and looking thoughtful.

‘Are you having a good time?’ he asked as he stood beside her, unable to keep from slipping an arm around her slender waist.

‘Yes, I have been. Very much so.’ She sounded hesitant, and Antonio didn’t like that.

‘Dance with me,’ he said, mostly because he wanted to feel her body next to his. She came willingly, and as they stepped onto the dance floor Antonio put his arms around her and drew her snugly into his embrace.

They swayed silently for a few minutes to the strings of the orchestra, neither of them speaking. Antonio glanced down at Maisie and saw her forehead was furrowed in thought. Gently he placed a finger under her chin and tilted her face up so she was looking at him.

‘What is it, Maisie?’ he asked.