All she’d cared about was protecting herself from more pain and yet somehow here she was, back in his car and in his life, cocooned by expensive leather and the smell of luxury with that dangerous, incendiary chemistry threatening everything she’d worked so hard to leave behind.
If he’d released her hand it might have helped, but he didn’t. His fingers were wrapped hard around hers as he started the engine, and she knew he was fully aware of what his touch did to her and had no compunction in exploiting that advantage shamelessly.
Despairing of herself, Laurel leaned her head back against the seat. ‘Give me one reason why I should do this.’
‘Because I deserve another chance.’ The engine gave a deep, throaty growl. ‘Because what we have is special enough to keep fighting for.’
Was it?
Finally he released her hand but only so that he could place his on the wheel and steer them out of the nightmare traffic that clogged the airport road.
Whether this was a good idea or not, it was too late to rethink it because he found a gap in the traffic, pressed his foot to the floor and sped out of the airport.
CHAPTER SEVEN
CRISTIANO drove fast, skilfully dodging the heavy morning traffic until the road cleared. He pressed his foot to the floor and the car shot forward like a racehorse towards the finishing line, lightning-fast. Laurel smiled slightly as she felt the burst of speed and power because she loved it as much as he did.
Or maybe it was just because the top of the car was down and the sun was shining down on them, making everything impossible seem possible.
It was all still there, of course—the doubts, the worry and that other nagging emotion that he knew nothing about. But right now, with the breeze lifting her hair and the sun warming her face, she could push it to the back of her mind.
She wouldn’t have admitted it in a million years, but she loved to watch him drive. Loved the confidence with which he handled the car, the subtle movement of his fingers as he shifted gears, the flex of powerful thigh muscle as he urged the car forward. Cristiano made driving a car sexy. To her, everything he did was sexy and that incurable attraction had always been her downfall.
Dragging her eyes away from temptation, Laurel anchored her hair with her hand and glanced over her shoulder. ‘No security?’
‘I think I may have run them over when I left the villa. I was in a hurry.’ His swift smile managed to be disarming and devastating at the same time. ‘Don’t worry. I’m capable of protecting you and anyway, there is security where we are going.’
‘Oh.’ Her hopes of staying somewhere discreet and private dashed by that revelation, Laurel tried not to feel disappointed that there would be other people around. ‘Where are we going?’
‘It’s a surprise. But you can trust me to have your happiness at the forefront of my list of priorities.’
She could have pointed out that her happiness had been right at the bottom of his list of priorities in the past but she could see he was trying so she bit her tongue and said nothing.
‘Have I been there before?’ ‘Not exactly.’
Resigned to the fact that he wasn’t going to reveal anything before he was ready, she leaned her head back against the seat and just watched the countryside. ‘We’re driving towards Mount Etna. You’re going to drop me into the crater of an active volcano and finish me off for good?’
‘Tempting.’ The corners of his mouth flickered. ‘And yes, we’re driving towards Mount Etna.’
Her eyes fastened on the peak in the distance. ‘I’ve always loved this part of Sicily.’
‘I know.’ They were off the autostrade now and climbing upwards, the car waltzing round the bends under Cristiano’s expert control.
‘Taormina?’ Her heart gave a little jump as she realised where they were going. ‘You’re taking me to Taormina?’ It was the place they’d spent part of their honeymoon and she’d been dizzy with the romance of the place. Yes, it was a favourite tourist haunt but with good reason. It was stunning.
The medieval town that had inspired poets and authors for centuries perched on the cliff whilst beneath lay the sparkling perfection of the Mediterranean, its surface reflecting all the colours of a peacock’s wing.
As the sea breeze lifted her hair and cooled her skin, Laurel’s smile faltered. ‘Are we going back to the same hotel?’
‘No. I wish you’d trust me.’
‘I’m trying.’
‘Try harder.’
That was all he would say and she held her breath as he negotiated a narrow road, one side of which fell into an almost vertical drop down to the sea.