‘Yes.’
‘With...with you?’
‘Yes, with me.’ Antonio managed a wry smile. The truth was, a client hadn’t given him the tickets. He’d bought them himself, because he thought Maisie would enjoy attending, and he’d wanted to go with her. Be with her. That impulse, that need, had trumped every other precaution or concern or doubt. For now.
‘I’d love to go, but...’ Maisie bit her lip. ‘What about Ella?’
‘I can arrange a babysitter for her. We can leave after she’s fallen asleep.’ He smiled, cocking his head. ‘You have to do it some time, you know.’
‘I know. And I did try with a bottle this morning and it was fine...’
‘There you are, then.’
Her face lit up, and then immediately fell. ‘I have nothing to wear.’
‘That,’ Antonio assured her, ‘is easily remedied. And in any case, you don’t need to dress in a particularly fancy way. Doing so will only make you l
ook like a tourist.’
Maisie laughed as she brushed a curly strand of hair from her eyes. ‘Heavens, we wouldn’t want that!’
‘No, indeed.’
Just a few hours later they were settled in a limo, driving to see La Traviata at La Scala in Milan. The babysitter, the grandmotherly woman who had been teaching Maisie Italian, was entirely at ease with Ella—allowing Maisie to relax. Antonio saw the sparkle in her eyes as she strained to catch a glimpse of the iconic building.
She wore a dress of soft black jersey that clung to her womanly curves and made Antonio ache to touch her. All afternoon and evening he’d battled with himself, caught between wanting to be careful and simply wanting Maisie. To be with her, to talk to her, to touch her. It was more than a matter of craving; it was his soul’s need. And he wasn’t going to examine it farther than that. Not tonight, at least.
‘Wow,’ Maisie breathed as they took their seats in a private box in the theatre, with its plush red velvet and ornate gold decoration. ‘Antonio, this is amazing.’
‘I’m glad you think so.’ He loved watching her take it all in, the pleasure that lit her from within. He was glad he’d bought the tickets, glad he’d come here. Glad, so glad, he was with her.
The lights dimmed and the first notes of the opera swelled. Maisie gave him an excited little smile. Antonio returned the grin, then settled back to watch the opera...and Maisie.
As the opera continued, Antonio found he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was enchanting and so very lovely, enraptured by every note and movement, talking non-stop during the intermission as they sipped champagne in the elegant foyer.
‘Sorry, sorry,’ she said with a laugh when she paused to take a breath. ‘I’m rabbiting on...’
‘No,’ Antonio assured her. ‘I love listening to you.’
A small, surprised smile stole across her face and Antonio smiled back, determined not to give in to his fears. Wanting to be different.
Several hours later they walked out into the starry night, to his limo waiting at the kerb.
‘That was so incredible,’ Maisie said in a dreamy voice. ‘And the story was so sad.’
‘Aren’t all operas sad?’
‘I suppose so, although I’ve never actually been to the opera before.’
‘Me neither.’
‘Really?’ She shot him a curious look as she slid into the limo. ‘I assumed you’ve done just about everything.’
‘No, this is new.’ Too late he realised the double meaning of his words. This was new. Them. Antonio saw realisation flare in Maisie’s eyes, and he struggled with the urge to take it all back. Close it down.
Somehow he didn’t. The silence stretched on as he got in the car and the driver pulled out into the traffic. Antonio glanced at Maisie; her cheek looked soft and round, the moonlight catching its silky curve, as she gazed out of the window.
‘I have a charity gala to attend this weekend,’ he said abruptly, and Maisie turned to him, eyebrows raised.