A smile kicked up the corners of his mouth. ‘This calls for a celebration. Want to go back to the hotel and order in room service?’
‘But what about the table you had to work so hard to secure?’
He gave a shrug. ‘Personally, I think the place is overrated. My brother Rafe’s wife, Poppy, would probably agree with me. Did I tell you she’s a cook?’
‘I think I read that somewhere.’ She fell into step beside him as they walked along the footpath. ‘What’s she like?’
‘Gorgeous.’ He gave her a sudden grin. ‘I mean that in a brother-in-law kind of way, of course. She reminds me of my mother. So does Raoul’s fiancée, Lily. They’re both really lovely girls. A bit too homespun for me, but still, each to his own.’
‘Careful, Remy, you’re starting to sound envious.’
He shook his head, his smile fading away. ‘I’m not cut out for that domestic scene. I’m like you; I like my freedom too much. Babies seem such smelly, noisy things. And then they grow up and become annoying smart-mouthed tearaways who keep their parents up all night worrying about them. No. Not for me. Definitely not.’
Angelique gave him a playful little shoulder-bump. ‘I’m sure not all children turn out horribly spoilt, obnoxious brats like you and me.’
He gave her a crooked grin as he gently shoulder-bumped her back. ‘God forbid.’
CHAPTER NINE
REMY WATCHED an hour later in their suite as Angelique nibbled at an undressed green salad and took occasional sips from a glass of Chianti. When she wasn’t acting tough and being lippy, she was surprisingly good company. Quirky. Funny. Engaging.
Something had shifted in their relationship outside the restaurant.
He had been brought up to defend and protect women. Not by his grandfather, who exploited them any chance he could, but by his father before he had died and his two older brothers. Remy didn’t mind the occasional verbal brawl, but insulting a woman and calling her names was not something he could ever tolerate.
He had never liked Angelique’s father, even when Henri had been a regular visitor at his grandfather’s villa in Rome, well before he had come across him in business. Remy had always found him two-faced, sly and conniving. The fact that Henri had been verbally abusing his wife and daughter disgusted Remy but it didn’t surprise him. Men like Henri Marchand used power in dishonourable ways. They snatched at it whenever they could and gave little thought to the harm they were causing others.
Remy wondered if Angelique’s wilful and at times reckless behaviour was a reaction to the tyranny she had lived under for so long. While she didn’t live with her father, and hadn’t for a long time, he still seemed to have power to hurt her. He’d seen the way she’d flinched at Henri’s horrible words. It was no wonder she was so adamantly opposed to marriage since the example set for her had been so appalling.
Protecting her had been an automatic reaction for Remy. He had been prepared to use force if he’d had to, although generally he didn’t condone physical violence. His anger at her escaping from the restaurant had turned so quickly into something else.
He still wasn’t quite sure exactly what it was...
‘Do you want some more wine?’
Angelique shook her head. ‘No, one is enough. I’m not a big drinker. Too many calories.’
Remy frowned as he looked at her barely touched meal. ‘This new contract... How does that fit in with your plans to focus on designing?’
She put her glass back down and met his gaze. ‘It’ll take ages, possibly months or even up to a year, to get to the manufacturing and selling stage. I’ll need an income in the meantime. I can’t live on air.’
He gave her a dry look. ‘You’re doing a pretty fine job of it so far. You’ve only taken a couple of nibbles of that piece of lettuce.’
‘I don’t need a lot of food.’ She gave his empty plate a baleful glance. ‘Unlike some people, who have disgustingly voracious appetites and seemingly hollow legs.’
‘I’m not a glutton. I just love food.’
She arched a neatly groomed eyebrow in a worldly manner. ‘And sex.’
He gave her a glinting smile. ‘That too.’
There was a little silence.
She passed the tip of her tongue over her lush lips and an arrow of lust speared Remy in the groin. Was she thinking of their passionate union earlier?
He hadn’t stopped thinking about it.
He hadn’t stopped feeling it tingling in his flesh like aftershocks in the wake of an earthquake. He could still taste her sweet vanilla and milk taste. He could still feel the softness of her lips, the boldness of her clever little tongue, the smooth glide of her hands and fingers.