‘You’re very quiet,’ he said a moment later, as he led her along a shady path. ‘If you’ve changed your mind about the party—’
‘I haven’t.’ She stared up at him. ‘I was just thinking that you’re full of surprises too.’
He eyed her sideways. ‘Then you’re in a minority of one. Most people think they can read me like a book.’ His eyes met hers. ‘At a guess, I’d say a well-thumbed easy read—a beach blockbuster, maybe.’
He was smiling, but she had that same feeling she’d had before—that there was something more than what he was saying. And suddenly there was nothing she wanted to know more than what he’d left unsaid.
‘That’s what you let them think.’
He’d let her think that too, at first. Now, though, she could see that there was more to him—a whole lot more.
Take the Dolce. She might have limited hands-on business experience, but she understood enough to know that running one required more than charm and a sexy smile.
His guests loved him. His staff too. She could sense real affection and admiration, and they worked hard for him. He seemed to bring out the best in people. Or at least reveal their untapped potential.
‘You have a gift, Vicè,’ she said slowly. ‘You’ve made this like a wonderful private club that’s open to everyone. And you did it on your own.’
He shrugged. ‘It’s a living. It’s not exactly in Ciro’s league. He’s Mr Midas.’
They had reached the villa now and, frowning, she followed him upstairs. ‘Maybe. But some things are more important than money—and I know you believe that or we wouldn’t both be here.’
It felt strange, putting it that way, but it was true. Vicè cared about his father’s legacy enough to put aside his distaste and marry the daughter of his enemy. He had wanted revenge on her father, but he had also thrown her a lifeline by agreeing to marry her for a year.
And if revenge was all he was after he certainly wouldn’t have agreed to sleep on any sofa.
‘You care about your staff, your guests, your family. And it shows. You should be proud of that—of everything you’ve achieved. I’m sure your family is.’
‘Careful, cara. I’m already “impossibly arrogant”.’
She recognised her own words, but she didn’t smile. ‘Actually, I don’t think you are,’ she said quietly.
His eyes locked with hers.
‘You’r
e very smart, Imma.’ Lifting a hand, he stroked her dark hair away from her face. ‘Way too smart for me.’
Her heart began to beat faster and she felt heat break out on her skin. Vicè was wrong. If she was smart she would follow her own rules and stop her body reacting to his lightest touch.
‘Not always.’ Glancing round the bedroom, she frowned. ‘I thought you were going to show me your favourite view?’
‘I’m looking at it,’ he said softly. He hesitated, his eyes never leaving her face. Then, ‘Although I might need to make one small adjustment...’
He took a step towards her and, hooking the thin straps of her dress with his thumbs, he slipped them down over her shoulders. A muscle flickered in his jaw as it slid down her body, pooling around her feet.
Her mouth dried. Caught in the beam of his dark, shimmering gaze, she felt herself melt.
‘Perfect,’ he said hoarsely.
He leaned over to kiss the bare skin of her throat, and then she was pulling him backwards, onto the bed, all rules forgotten and broken.
* * *
‘I hope you don’t mind, but I bought you something for tonight.’
Leaning forward, Vicè planted a kiss on Imma’s lips. As she stared up at him dazedly he sat down on the bed, handing her a large cardboard box wrapped in ribbon.
‘I’m going to go and get changed, and then I’ve got a couple of things to go over with Matteo. Come down when you’re ready.’