She sighed and sat down in the nearest seat, literally unable to stand any more. ‘Antonio.’
His eyebrow flickered. ‘Something you want to tell me?’
She rested her aching head in her hands. ‘My mother went on a boat like this once.’ More than once. Her mother had loved this kind of lavish holiday. ‘With Salvatore Accardi.’
Antonio squatted in front of her so he could see up into her face. She couldn’t hide from him.
‘They took photos from a helicopter,’ she said.
‘There will be no helicopters other than the one we just arrived in,’ he said.
‘You don’t understand,’ she mumbled, her cheeks scarlet with shame. ‘My mother and her lover were photographed on the deck of the boat. It was the moment of my conception.’ Or so the papers had speculated at the time. That image—of her mother naked on her back with her married lover between her legs—had been one of the most scandalous images of the decade. The flaunting of an affair that had only hurt all the women involved.
Accardi had denied the dark-haired man in the picture was him.
Deny, deny, deny, was all he ever did.
‘I should have talked with you first,’ Antonio said quietly. ‘I thought you would like it.’
‘Anyone normal would,’ she admitted. She closed her eyes. ‘I’m sorry.’
Here she was on the same kind of symbol of opulence and wealth and corruption, with a man who could have anything—and anyone—he wanted.
‘I’m sorry too.’ He caressed her cheek with his thumb. ‘But you’re not her. And I’m not him.’ Standing, he reached forward and scooped her into his arms. ‘What we both are is very tired. You’ve been burning the candle at both ends. You need a rest.’
She half smiled at the stiff way he expressed the old saying. She rested her head on his chest, feeling his heart beating, suddenly unbearably tired. ‘Yes.’
‘Then let’s get you to bed.’
She wanted to touch him and feel the mindless relief that he could bring, but the waves of exhaustion rolling over her were too strong and in his arms she relaxed completely. Her eyes closed as she felt him descend the steps into the body of the boat.
She felt him place her on the soft bed, felt his lips on hers. Too gently. Too briefly. But she couldn’t win the fight to open her eyes again.
‘Stay,’ she murmured, at least she tried to say it but it might have only been a moan.
‘I’m right here.’
And he was. Curled up beside her, drawing a soft blanket over them both.
CHAPTER EIGHT
BELLA HAD NO idea what the time was when she woke, but, given light was streaming through the beautiful window, she figured it had to be late in the afternoon.
‘I didn’t realise you were going to sleep for hours.’
She turned at the sound of Antonio’s drawl.
‘Hours.’ He threw her a mock chagrined look.
With a sleepy smile she rolled onto her back and stretched her toes. ‘Sorry.’ She glanced back at him. ‘Not sorry.’
Silently he regarded her, his reserved expression more pronounced, when suddenly his solemnity broke and the sexiest smile spread across his face. He crooked his little finger at her. ‘Maybe you’d better come here and show me how “not sorry” you are.’
Her body hummed in anticipation, but she couldn’t resist attempting another tease. ‘I can’t make it all the way over there...’ She stretched lazily again.
‘Going to make me do all the work?’
‘You seem to like to be in charge.’ She shrugged, sending him a look from under her lashes.
‘You like choosing not to do what I ask.’
‘Maybe it’s all in the way you ask...’ She let her voice trail suggestively.
‘How should I ask?’ he asked. The ominous tone made her tingle all the more.
‘With kisses, of course.’
He reached out and grabbed her foot, hauling her down the bed towards him. ‘Good thing I know how and where you like to be kissed.’
Bella could only arch up on the bed and let him.
Slowly the sky turned from blue to a burnished gold as the sun seemed to sink into the water.
‘Come up on deck,’ Antonio invited gently. ‘It’s almost dark. No one is there to see us.’