Whether the old man would actually answer her questions was a bridge she’d cross when she came to it. According to the article she’d found online, Lorenzo lived in a mansion once belonging to Agostino Fattore, a man whose picture bore a strong resemblance to Romeo, once you dragged your gaze from the skin-crawling cruelty in his eyes.
Her fingers curled around her glass, her stomach churning in horror at what the man she loved had suffered. Was probably still suffering...
Shutting her eyes, she dropped her head into her hands and breathed in deep. She wouldn’t think the worst. She would get her chance to tell Romeo exactly how she felt.
All of it. With nothing held back.
Firming her jaw, she opened her eyes and jerked upright in shock.
He was pulling back the chair at the adjacent table. Sunglasses obscured his eyes and the direction of his gaze suggested he wasn’t looking at her, but Maisie knew Romeo had seen her.
Her body’s sizzling awareness was too strong to be anything but a reaction to his direct scrutiny.
A judder shook its way up from her toes as she stared at him, relief pounding through her to see him in one piece. Hungrily her eyes roved over him. His cheekbones looked a little more prominent, and his mouth a lot grimmer, but there was no mistaking the powerful aura emanating from him or his masculine grace when he curled elegant fingers around the tiny espresso cup the waiter slid onto his table a few minutes later.
He picked up the beverage, knocked it back in one greedy gulp, then stood, extracted a ten-euro note from his pocket and placed it on the table.
She sat poised in her chair unable to believe he would just leave without speaking to her.
Then his arrogant head turned her way. Heat sizzled over her skin, far hotter than the sun’s rays as she stared back at him. His hands clenched into fists, then released.
Without a word, he strode onto the pavement leading away from the waterfront.
Maisie grabbed her handbag and raced after him. Everything about his quick strides and tense shoulders suggested he didn’t want to be disturbed. But she hadn’t come all this way to be turned away.
He turned into a vaguely familiar street five minutes later. When she recognised it, she froze, her pulse tripling its beat as she read the name of the hotel.
She jerked into motion when Romeo disappeared inside. By the time she entered the jaw-dropping interior of the marble-floored atrium, he was gone. She bit her lip and looked around the plush surroundings, wondering whether she would receive the same humiliating reception as she had last time.
‘Signora Brunetti!’ A sharply dressed man hurried towards her, his hand proffered in greeting.
‘Um, yes?’
‘I was asked this morning to look out for you and inform you that the room you seek is Penthouse One.’
‘Ah...thank you.’
‘Prego. If you’ll come with me, I’ll personally access the private lift for you.’
He escorted her to the lift, inserted the key and pressed the button, before stepping back with a respectful bow.
Clutching her bag against her chest, Maisie willed her pulse to stop racing. But it was no use. Now that she’d seen that Romeo was unharmed, every ounce of adrenaline was churning towards the emotional undertaking she was about to perform.
Should that fail...
Her knees buckled and she sagged against the gilt-edged mirrored walls as the lift doors opened. Sucking in a deep breath, she forced one foot in front of the other. The pristine white doors and gold-encrusted knobs loomed large and imposing in front of her.
Lifting a hand, she knocked.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
HE OPENED THE DOOR after the third round of knocking. And said nothing. Bleak hazel eyes drilled into hers, seething emotions vibrating in the thick silence.
Maisie cleared her throat.
‘You haven’t called in four d-days. Our son is miserable without you,’ she stammered when she eventually found her brain.
Romeo’s face twisted with agonised bitterness and regret, before it resettled into stark blankness. ‘I’ll make it up to him. My business in Palermo took longer than I thought. I have a month-long business commitment in London starting next week. Once I’m settled, Emily will resume coordinating with you on visiting schedules. I’ll also have my team provide you with useful numbers including my pilot’s so you don’t have to rely on commercial travel. There’s a car waiting for you downstairs right now. My plane will take you back home. Have a safe trip back. Arrivederci.’