‘This dish is vegetarian? You promise?’ Cautiously she tasted a small amount and moaned. ‘It’s delicious.’
He watched as her eyes closed and she savoured the flavours. Her tongue licked at a tiny drop of oil on her lips. She was the most sensual woman he’d met and yet she suppressed it ruthlessly. ‘Locally grown food and good olive oil. It doesn’t come any better.’
‘I don’t want to know that it’s cooked in oil. So are all Sicilian kids raised on this? Did your mother make this for you when you were small?’
Mention of his mother wiped his own appetite coming after his own thoughts on that topic. ‘No. My mother wasn’t the hearth and home type. She had other priorities.’ He reached for his glass and changed the subject. ‘Did yours cook for you?’
‘No. My mother wasn’t the hearth and home type either.’ The poise didn’t slip, but he heard something in her voice. The same dark undertones that coloured his own.
Her too?
They had more in common than either of them could have imagined.
‘So what type was she?’ He surprised himself by asking the question because normally he had no interest in delving beneath the surface of the person he was with and maybe he surprised her too, because she didn’t answer immediately.
‘The ambitious type. She had big plans for me.’
‘She didn’t want you to be an actress?’
‘It was all she wanted.’ She kept her eyes down so that all he could see was the dark fan of her lashes as she concentrated on her food. ‘She was determined I would achieve what she hadn’t and determined I would be the one to save the family fortunes. She was a single parent and money was tight. When I was a newborn she signed me up for work. I appeared in a daytime soap as someone’s baby, then I played toddlers and so it went on. I worked right through my childhood. I didn’t go to school—I had tutors on the set.’
‘And you hated it?’
‘No.’ she stabbed her knife through a piece of asparagus. ‘I was living every kid’s dream.’
‘Is that what she told you?’
Her eyes lifted to his and just for a moment he saw a little girl, lost and friendless. Then the look was gone. ‘I had the most amazing experiences. I’ve travelled to places most people only dream about. Our house was always full of famous people.’
‘So if it was so fantastic why did you fire her?’
Her face was white, her fingers shaking as she reached for her champagne. ‘She was my manager and I decided she didn’t have my best interests at heart.’
She was back in control, her insecurities masked by the poised smile she’d perfected. It was as if that unguarded moment had never happened.
‘What about your father?’
‘My father played no part in my life until he sold his story to the press when I was seventeen.’ Lifting her glass, she took a sip. ‘Are we done talking about me? Because the journalists outside the restaurant are beginning to create an obstruction. It isn’t fair on the other diners. They have a right to eat their meal in peace. We should probably skip dessert and leave.’
Luca turned his head and felt a flash of shock as he registered the size of the press pack. ‘Cristo, is it always like this?’
‘No. Sometimes it’s really bad. Today is a quiet day.’ Calm, she rose to her feet. ‘Shall we go?’
Taylor walked through the tables, acknowledging greetings with a polite smile, hiding her dismay at the number of journalists hovering in wait.
Maybe it was tiredness, maybe it was vulnerability caused by the fact that he’d forced her to talk about things she didn’t normally talk about. Maybe it was worry about the film part, but suddenly her control slipped and she stopped dead.
Luca took her hand. ‘Ready? We need to look like two people in love as we walk out of this restaurant.’
‘I hate them.’ She blurted the words out before she could stop herself and he turned with a frown on his face. ‘I can’t face them.’
‘Taylor—’
‘They’re like hunters, looking for weakness. When they find it they savage you.’
And they’d find hers.
It was only a matter of time before they exposed the one thing she dreaded them exposing. The threat of it had hung over her for so long she could no longer remember how it felt to live without it. It was a constant surprise to her that it hadn’t come out before now.
Luca pulled her into the curve of his arm and Taylor gasped.
‘What are you doing?’
‘You give them too much power over you,’ he said softly, his lips in her hair so that no one watching could lip-read or overhear his words. ‘Rule number one, be who you really are. It’s far more uncomfortable living a lie than living the truth. Rule number two, never let the enemy know your weakness. Now we’re going to go out there and you’re going to smile or not, whichever you prefer, but you’re not going to show them that they scare you, capisci?’