He pushed, she pulled, she pulled, he pushed, and still he found himself standing on the same, lonely spot. He was losing something that wasn’t even his, and the fact it hurt him was laughable. ‘Enjoy yourself.’ The worst thing was, he meant it. He wanted her to be happy. Just not too happy.

With that he stood up, grabbing his empty glass and the book he’d barely been able to read.

‘I will. Don’t wait up.’

She said it with a laugh, but it still riled him. He turned away so she couldn’t see his expression. ‘I won’t.’ Another lie. He scattered them amongst the truths. Because there wasn’t a chance in hell that he was going to sleep without making sure she was home. And if she wasn’t then he’d just march next door and drag her home if he had to. He’d probably enjoy doing it, and if Cesca’s flirting was anything to go by, she would, too.

Then he was back full circle. Face to face with the realisation that he was falling for Cesca Shakespeare, when every synapse in his brain was telling him not to. When history had told him that every time he got close to somebody, they let him down.

He wasn’t sure how long good sense would prevail.

It was strange, going through the motions of getting ready. A long, cool shower followed by a heated wrangle with the hairdryer. Then the anxious surveying of her clothes, wondering what she would wear, what he would like. Whether he would think she looked pretty.

But it was the wrong he. Sam, not Cristiano. God, she was such a loser.

It was sinful to be dressing for one man, while getting ready to go on a date with another. Yet she couldn’t help but think of Sam as she slicked her lips with gloss, and ran her mascara wand through her lashes.

She didn’t recognise the girl looking back at her from the mirror. So removed from the Cesca who had closed in on herself, the Cesca who had fallen and couldn’t climb back up. If she could go back to London and tell that girl that not only would she be living in the same house as Sam Carlton, but that she’d actually like him, she’d probably have been told where to go. Yet it was all true.

Their flirting this afternoon had sent a shockwave through her body, and the after-effects were still buzzing in her cells. She felt energised, alive, as if she’d woken up after a long, deep sleep, and now all she wanted to do was run around and laugh.

It wasn’t a laughing matter, though, was it? Not least because she was completely confused by Sam’s constant vacillations. It was like watching a tennis match, her neck was aching from the back and forth, and she wasn’t sure who was winning any more.

Wasn’t certain there could be a winner.

She’d arranged to meet Cristiano at the gate at eight that evening. He’d protested, explaining it was wrong for him not to pick her up at the house, that she was hurting his masculinity. She’d laughed it away, because the last thing she’d wanted was him meeting Sam. Not when he was in the kind of mood he was. She wouldn’t put it past him to say something to embarrass her, or to embarrass Cristiano, but if she was really honest, part of her wanted to see her housemate fighting for her.

But it would do her good to leave the house, to talk to somebody other than Sam. To see the real world out there untainted by his close proximity. She had to be suffering from some kind of Stockholm syndrome, didn’t she? She blushed as she remembered their conversation again and how he’d looked when he’d threatened to tie her up. The mere suggestion had been enough to make her breathless and overheated, the slickness between her legs the evidence of how he’d made her excited.

Yes, she definitely needed to get out of here. Before she did something she might not regret.

Sam was nowhere to be seen when she walked down the stairs and into the hallway, one hand clutching her bag, the other holding the thin wrap she’d slung across her shoulders. Her hair was loose, tumbling in natural waves to her shoulders. It tickled the skin there, bare except for two spaghetti straps, her dress clinging to her torso then flaring out across her hips. Printed with small blue flowers, the fabric came to a stop at mid-thigh, showing off the glowing tan she’d acquired.

Just after eight she left the villa and walked up the driveway, making her way to the main gate. She could see Cristiano’s car there, the man himself leaning on the hood. A pang of guilt hit her for making him wait up there. Still, the alternative was too awkward to contemplate.

Cristiano pushed himself off the car and was watching her, a big smile plastered across his face. In his hand he held the most glorious bunch of flowers, with pale calla lilies surrounded by cascading amaranths. Hand-tied with twine, she could tell simply by looking at them that they’d cost a fortune.

‘You look wonderful,’ he said, as soon as she walked through the gates. Inclining his head, he pressed his soft lips to her cheek. She could feel his gaze as he looked her up and down. ‘These are for you.’

Surprised, she took the proffered bouquet. As much as she’d enjoyed teasing Sam this was a date, she’d really believed it to be a night out with a friend. ‘Thank you, they’re beautiful,’ she said. ‘I should put them in water or something. I can run inside and put them in the basin. I won’t be a minute.’

‘Let me at least drive you,’ Cristiano suggested. ‘Or escort you.’

Cesca was torn. She couldn’t just leave him waiting here again . . . but then what alternative did she have? It would be churlish to simply let the flowers die, and in this weather they were bound to wilt before they’d even left the village.

‘Um, well, OK. But can you wait in the car before I run the flowers in?’

He was unruffled. ‘Of course.’

That’s how she found herself returning to the house within a few minutes, driven by the one man she’d tried to keep away from the villa. Taking a deep breath she ran up the steps, looking back at Cristiano, half afraid he would follow her in. Instead he gave her a wave and a smile, leaning his arm on the open window, his arm hairs bleached from the sun.

Cesca grabbed the hem of her dress, afraid the wind would lift it, her other hand clutching the flowers. She made it into the kitchen before she noticed him. Was already halfway to the basin before he cleared his throat. She came to an abrupt stop, releasing her dress and putting her hand to her chest.

‘I didn’t see you there,’ she said, willing her heart to stop going crazy.

‘Clearly.’ Sam’s voice was dry. ‘You almost ran me over.’ His gaze flashed over the bouquet. ‘That must have been the shortest date in history. What happened, did he make a pass before you even made it through the gates?’

She tried to ignore his mocking tone. ‘For your information, I’m just putting these flowers in water. And then I’ll be going back to my date.’

Tags: Carrie Elks The Shakespeare Sisters Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net