The Sicilian's Bought Cinderella

The euphoric mood had extended to the bedroom. Little in the way of sleep had been found in their bed that night, even less than the night before.

Aislin hadn’t wanted to fall sleep. She hadn’t wanted to miss a single moment.

But nature had taken its course and she’d been pulled into slumber as the first glimpse of sunlight broke through the join in the heavy curtains.

Hot tears bit into her retinas and she blinked vigorously to contain them.

Her chest hurt. Her stomach hurt too, filled with knots being pulled into a giant tangle of pain.

Dante shifted closer and stretched. His arousal replaced his knee against her thigh.

She mustn’t cry.

They still had a few hours left.

And maybe...

He slid on top of her and covered her mouth with his.

Maybe Dante wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet either.

* * *

Breakfast was served in the dining room. The guests who had spent the weekend celebrating with the happy couple were all accounted for, present in body if not in spirit. An awful lot of heads were being clutched and painkillers being swapped like sweets. Only the children had retained their manic spirits but, where they had spent the weekend being indulged, this morning they were shushed.

Aislin couldn’t work out why she felt so bad, considering she’d paced her alcohol intake and made sure to drink plenty of water.

Dante didn’t look much better either but insisted with a brisk smile that he felt fine. His appetite was as healthy as always.

Although she had little appetite of her own, Aislin took her time, picking at the croissants, chewing slowly, refilling her coffee and orange juice numerous times; anything to drag this last meal out.

Yet, though she tried her hardest to make the time pass as slowly as was humanly possible, she found it hard to look at him. Every time she met his eyes her heart would swell and she would find herself biting her tongue from the plea it longed to shoot out.

Is this really it?

Was it really possible that in the space of a week she had gone from thinking she would never get involved with another man, especially not this one, to feeling her insides would rip to shreds if she never felt his arms around her again?

He was nothing like the man she had imagined.

Just as Dante pushed his chair back, ready to leave the dining room, Riccardo D’Amore and his wife stopped at their table.

‘Good morning,’ he said in English, smiling, no sign of a headache or any ill-effects from the night before.

‘Morning,’ Aislin replied as cheerfully as she could manage.

‘We like you to come to house for dinner.’ He spoke carefully.

‘Me and Dante?’ She did her best to hide her surprise.

‘Sì. It will be great pleasure for us. You come...mercoledì?’

She glanced at Dante. His lips were curved upwards but the expression in his eyes gave nothing away.

‘Mercoledi?’ she repeated uncertainly.

‘Wednesday,’ Dante murmured.

‘Right. Wednesday.’ Her heart made a sudden leap. She could stay until Wednesday. That was totally doable. Orla could cope a few more days without her and Aislin could have an extra four days with Dante!