He hadn’t seen this side of Ava since—well, since she’d been in his bed. All her fire had been directed one way, and now it was going another. He couldn’t say his life had been dull since her advent into it.
‘The Pope?’
‘My personal assistant! Do you know what this means? Everyone in the bloody office is talking about me and “the Italian Prince”—like I’m Mary Donaldson or something.’
‘Cosa?’
She waved the phone again. ‘Mary Donaldson from Tasmania—married the Crown Prince of Denmark. Big wedding. He cried. Australia finally got itself a royal!’ Ava shook her head. ‘You really need to pay attention to the news.’
Gianluca considered telling her he’d been at the wedding, but there were more important things under consideration.
‘You are unhappy because your employees know you have a personal life?’
‘This is hardly a personal life. Seedy is how it looks!’
Gianluca stilled and looked at her. She stood with one hand on her hip. The white capri pants showed off her long legs. The pale blue T-shirt moulded to her like a second skin.
It was impossible to imagine her in those ugly black trousers, that mumsy silk blouse, with her mouth drawn into a tight, suspicious line. Go away. I don’t want you.
She might be steaming at him, but she seemed to be having a good time and she was undeniably sexy doing it.
This thing between them had softened her, tempered her, and it had touched him too...
He was happy, and he had no idea how it had happened.
‘You’ll have to fix this,’ she said imperiously.
‘Fix it?’
‘Yes—issue some sort of statement, make up a story like you said you would about us being related and it being some sort of trick of the photo...’
Gianluca believed this was called being hoist with his own petard.
He strode back to the car.
‘What are you doing?’ she called after him.
He gunned the engine and Ava moved rapidamente, sliding in beside him. She barely had her seatbelt on when he took off, damn sure of one thing—this needed sorting out once and for all.
* * *
‘What are we doing here?’
Ava was aware her voice was a little shrill but she’d had a fright. The e-mail from PJ had shaken her. The knowledge that people were talking about her, that those photographs were floating around in the ether, had thrown her. She didn’t know why it bothered her so much, but suddenly what had seemed romantic felt entirely out of her control.
She’d never had romance in her life, never allowed herself to be vulnerable enough to a man to let her guard down. Now she had and look what had happened—people were talking about her.
She could guess what they were saying...that she was just the latest in a long line...
It made her feel unimportant to him, and this less than what she’d thought it was.
And, really, what was she doing with this man? Where did she think this was going?
Ava, you need to be sensible.
This last was the voice of her past. The little girl who’d had the responsibility for both her mother and her baby brother on her shoulders from far too young an age.
Gianluca had her door open and he took her hand, none too gently.
‘Benedetti, I will not go any further until—’
He almost yanked her off her feet and she had to struggle to keep up with him.
The café he took her into was crowded. It was also terrifyingly elegant, and Ava felt under-dressed—especially as heads turned.
‘Gianluca, darling!’
This seemed to come from a variety of women. Her already shaky confidence did a nosedive.
‘Where have you been, my friend?’
A man rose from his table but Gianluca didn’t stop, didn’t deviate from his course.
Ava tried to loosen his grip, but now he had a hand around her waist, was propelling her in front of him as they were shown by the busboy to a prominent table.
He pulled out her chair.
‘Sit down, Ava.’
She sat, too astonished to do anything else. She looked around and wished she hadn’t. People were staring at them. ‘How can you just walk in and get a table? Why are we here?’ she hissed, all the while trying to keep a social, nothing-to-see-here-people expression on her face.
She tried not to react as she recognised a film director. Undeniably this was a glamorous crowd, out to be seen.
Gianluca leaned across the table and took her hands.
There was a sudden lull in conversation at the tables around them.
‘What are you doing?’
He gave her a warm smile. ‘If I kiss you now, Ava, it will mean we are an item. Everyone will be talking about us—all of Roman society. You will be the girl who has taken Prince Benedetti’s heart. So think carefully before you answer me. We can have a drink together, some food, and nothing needs to change. Do you understand?’