Reluctant to wake her, he pulled on his clothes and took the phone and his conversation out onto the terrace. He made himself a caffé, the small dense espresso that he favoured at the start of the day, and listened to his brother whilst at the same time thinking about the challenges facing his marriage.
He knew they’d come a long way in the past few weeks. What he didn’t know was whether it was far enough—whether what they’d created could survive when they returned to the outside world and he was no longer able to devote all his attention to the relationship.
Their marriage was like a boat, he thought, watching as a yacht skimmed the sparkling water of the Bay of Naxos. He’d shored up the hull and made the necessary repairs. Here in port, what they had looked strong and seaworthy. Whether it was strong enough to survive in open water he didn’t know. And there was only one way to find out.
Having listened to Santo, he delivered the necessary advice and instruction and then ended the call and finished his coffee.
Beneath him the surface of the pool reflected the perfect blue sky and behind him the early morning sun shone on Etna’s summit.
‘Is everything OK?’ Her voice came from behind him and he turned to see her sitting up in the bed, her eyes sleepy and her mouth temptingly rosy. Without make-up, her hair tangled from too much midnight loving, she was gorgeous.
His woman.
‘Everything is fine.’ He found himself postponing the moment he had to break the news that they were leaving but she obviously sensed something and slid out of bed, deliciously unselfconscious.
Neither hiding nor flaunting, she reached for the wisp of cream silk that had started the night on her body and ended it in a discarded pool on the bedroom floor. That simple movement was all it took to have him forgetting his coffee and when she joined him on the terrace he slid his hand behind her neck and drew her in for a long, slow kiss.
‘Mmm—’ reluctantly she pulled away ‘—what is it you’re not telling me?’
‘What makes you so sure there’s something I’m not telling you?’
‘The look on your face.’ Her arms slid around his neck.
‘Tell me.’
There was no easy way to break news he knew she didn’t want to hear. ‘I need to go back for a while. A crisis is brewing with the Sardinia development that needs my attention. Mi dispiace, angelo mia. I’m sorry.’
He expected disappointment but instead she smiled. ‘It’s fine. We knew we couldn’t stay here for ever.’ It was a brave statement that concealed her disappointment and Cristiano swore under his breath.
‘Don’t tell me it’s fine while all the time thinking something different. Tell me what you’re thinking. I want to know.’
‘All right.’ She sat back on her heels, a gleam of humour lighting her eyes. ‘I’m thinking I don’t want you to go. I want us to stay here for ever.’
He breathed a sigh of relief. ‘At least now I know you’re being honest.’
‘But we both know it isn’t practical to stay here. And this deal is really important to you, I understand that. I know how long you waited for this one. You can’t delegate it to anyone else.’
He took her face in his hands and kissed her hard. ‘Whatever the world throws at us, it doesn’t change how much I love you. Tell me you understand that.’
‘Yes.’
Over the past few days she’d opened up more than she had at any time in their marriage but he was under no illusions. When Laurel felt threatened, she closed the world out. That was the way she protected herself. Here, he’d refused to let her hide but he was realistic enough to know that once they were back in the busy world they inhabited, things would change.
‘One week,’ he promised against her lips, ‘we’ll go back for one week. And we will be together at the beginning and end of every day. Breakfast every morning and dinner every evening. Sardinia is only a short hop away from Sicily. I won’t be gone long. That’s a promise.’
CHAPTER TEN
Laurel watched as Cristiano sent an email with one hand while tying the knot of his silk tie with the other. A cup of cold coffee lay untouched on the table because he hadn’t had a moment to drink it. From the moment they’d arrived back at the Palazzo Ferrara, the Palermo home that had been in his family for generations, he’d been swamped with work.
She felt a sharp pang of longing for the simplicity of their life in Taormina, missing the closeness and the lack of outside intrusion. Now she had to share him with a million other people. Yes, he’d kept to his promise of sharing breakfast and dinner with her but last night’s dinner hadn’t been served until gone eleven o’clock.