‘Admit it.’ Fully aware of her scrutiny, he dropped the shirt over the back of the nearest chair. ‘You can’t stop thinking about that kiss.’
‘What kiss?’
He smiled. ‘How does it feel to spend your life pretending to be someone you’re not? Uncomfortable? Frustrating?’
‘I’m not pretending. This is who I am.’
The smile faded and this time when he looked at her there was no sign of the flippant playboy. ‘No. You present the world with a plastic, perfect version of yourself. No flaws. You show the person you think the world wants to see, not the real you. Maybe that’s what some men want, but not me.’ The hardness of his tone surprised her and she took a step backwards, wondering what had triggered that response.
‘But this isn’t real so what you want is of no relevance.’
‘If I’m expected to spend time with you then it’s going to be with the real you. The real you is the woman who was with me in the maze. That woman interests me extremely. Any chance she could come out and play?’ His tone had lightened again but it was too late because already there was an electric tension in the atmosphere.
She was so aware of him, almost blinded by the raw sexuality that radiated from every throbbing, muscular inch of his powerful frame. From that silky dark hair to those moody black eyes, he was all man. And the most dangerous thing of all was that, somehow, he knew her. Not the public her that she’d created, but the real her. ‘That woman is a figment of your imagination.’
‘You had your hands on me. My imagination had nothing to do with it.’
‘You had your hands on me first.’
‘I never said it wasn’t mutual.’ Those eyes were dark as night, seeing everything she was hiding.
‘It isn’t mutual.’
‘Sweetheart, you should know that I have a highly competitive nature and you’re tempting me to prove it.’
‘No.’ She looked away from him, trying to snap the connection. Trying to pull together the torn threads of her protection. ‘It was just a kiss. A badly timed kiss as it turns out.’
‘Maybe not. We’re here because of that kiss.’
‘Precisely!’
Without warning he slid his hand behind her neck and drew her towards him. ‘Once again we see things differently. You see this as a bad thing, but because of this situation I finally have the board listening to me and you—’
‘I’m on a film that currently has no director.’ His mouth was so close to hers she was afraid to breathe. ‘How is that good?’
His phone buzzed and he paused, his eyes locked on hers.
For a moment she thought he was going to ignore it and then he let his hand drop. Instantly she stepped backwards, creating distance, and he gave her a mocking smile as he drew his phone out of his pocket and read the message. Dark brows rose. ‘Apparently you do have a director.’
‘We do?’ Taylor’s heart was pounding in her chest. ‘He found someone? Who?’
‘Rafaele Beninato.’
Just hearing the name made her feel sick.
‘Are you sure?’ It was her worst nightmare and the irony was that if she hadn’t been caught in the maze with Luca, it wouldn’t have happened. The first director would still be in place. But Rafaele had found a way to infiltrate her life, as he always had.
‘His name is familiar. Didn’t you and he have a thing once?’
‘I—yes. But it was a long time ago.’ She’d been seventeen years old and had been thrown out of the house by her mother. She’d been young, vulnerable and desperately lonely. A perfect target for a calculating opportunist like Rafaele. How had he got himself on the movie? He must have been stalking Santo Corretti as well as her.
Whatever the reason, her relationship with trouble had stopped being long distance and was suddenly right up close.
Luca glanced up from his phone. ‘Bit old for you, isn’t he?’
She was struggling to think. ‘Is this the part where we talk about our past relationships?’
He looked at her steadily and then slowly put his phone down. ‘I’ll assume from your defensive response he was one of the ones who let you down. Is it going to be difficult to work with him?’
‘I’m a professional,’ Taylor croaked. ‘I’ll work with anyone I’m expected to work with. No problem. I’m just pleased to have a new director.’
‘Are you sure?’ His tone was deceptively casual. ‘Because I can rough him up a little if you like. I’m your fiancé after all.’
She gave a choked laugh. Was it pathetic of her to wish, just for a minute, that their engagement was real and for once in her life she had someone who cared enough to offer support? ‘If you rough him up we’ll be minus a director again. And I want to act. I must do this film.’ Not just because the complexity of the role would finally earn her a reputation as a serious actress, but also because she didn’t want to give Rafaele the slightest reason to use what he had against her.