She was more aware of her body now than she had ever been before—aware that anytime she thought of them in that huge bed, her sex became damp and her breasts tingled; aware that anytime she caught even a hint of that aqua-based cologne her skin prickled; aware that when she touched herself when she was showering or when she was finding sleep hard to come by, her body ached for a more purposeful, knowing touch. Ached for him.
He hadn’t forgotten her, that was for sure.
Because for every day she hadn’t seen him, he had sent her flowers, a diamond bracelet by an up-and-coming designer whose pieces had year-long waiting lists, so Gio had informed her. She was determined to return it, but then came a brand-new coffeemaker with endless capsule refills because she’d been complaining that Italian coffee was too strong for her. And then one day, the present that had her heart thumping against her rib cage arrived: a high-end set of carving tools and a particular type of wood that she’d told him she couldn’t source anywhere in the world.
Her heart warmed at the thoughtfulness of his gifts, highlighting the contrast from when it had only been a pretense.
She didn’t want things with Raphael to be over. She wanted more of his kisses and his hot caresses, his warm smile that only she brought out, and just more time with him.
She wanted a relationship with him.
But after the second week of still no Raphael, mild resentment and a gnawing anxiety settled on her. Especially when his mother took it upon herself to visit Pia and slyly let it drop that Raphael was dealing with matters relating to Allegra, who had briefly visited Alyssa two days ago.
More than once, Pia caught a hint of suggestion from Portia as to how hard Raphael had worked to build Vito Automobiles to what it was today. And how much Gio himself owed Raphael.
All she cared about was that he’d been so close and hadn’t dropped by to even say hello.
At least her application to a prestigious online university to get her master’s degree in education had been accepted—a dream of hers for so long. No sooner had she received the email than he had sent her a brand-new laptop, a box of chocolates, a pair of her prescription glasses because she’d told him she kept losing her first pair and misplacing the spare.
When Pia had laughed for two minutes straight, Gio had been utterly puzzled.
So most afternoons, Pia settled down in the veranda with her laptop and lesson plans while her grandfather napped. Afraid of creating even the smallest ripple through Gio’s precarious health, she had abandoned her plans for leaving Italy for now.
So it was fifteen days later that she found Raphael standing in the courtyard with a glass of white wine in his hand.
He cast a tall shadow in the afternoon sun, his broad shoulders tapering into a lean waist and muscular thighs, the very ones that had cradled her. There had been such power, such strength in him and yet he had been so gentle with her. That she knew his body with such intimate knowledge sent a strange thrum of power flowing through her veins.
Not that she had any illusion that he belonged to her.
She doubted Raphael would ever truly belong to any woman. And yet, seeing him stand there, Pia could only feel tenderness for him. As if somehow she could bring a new facet out of this hard man. As if she could give him something he didn’t have or hadn’t known before.
She sighed and trudged up the steep path. His hair, grown overlong, curled over the collar of his shirt. A pang beat through her chest as she noticed the dark shadows he sported under his eyes.
Wineglass raised to his mouth, he froze when he spotted her. That intense stare of his made her pulse flutter, that familiar feeling of excitement and anticipation singing through her veins.
His dark eyes swept over her with such lingering hunger that Pia instantly knew that he felt this thing between them just as strongly as she did.
Sweat had gathered over her forehead and her neck for she’d been walking for almost an hour. Her hair was a nest around her face. She wished she’d worn anything but another pair of old jeans and a collared T-shirt.
Then hated herself for thinking that.
“Hello, Pia.”
Pia walked around him, the clamor of her heart far too much to stand being near him right then, and poured herself a glass of ice-cold water. Only after she took a fortifying sip did she lift her gaze and meet his.