Silence followed her pronouncement and, when she angled her face back to his, there was tension visible in his frame. A muscle jerked in his jaw. His eyes showed a hardness that sent a shiver down her spine.
‘Anyway, by then the rumour mill was in full swing and no one seemed particularly interested in the truth.’
‘So you stayed a part of that world, the same but different, always a little set apart from your friends.’
She nodded. ‘It’s not my real world,’ she said simply. ‘It’s my job. It’s work.’
‘But you must have been curious?’
‘About sex?’
‘Sì.’
‘I wasn’t.’ And then her eyes flitted to his. ‘Until I met you, I’d never known anyone who made my world catch fire.’
She looked away again, the admission somehow making her feel vulnerable.
When he didn’t speak, she moved to fill the silence. ‘It’s your turn.’
‘For what?’
‘To answer a question.’
‘Fair enough. Ask away.’ His voice was deep.
Her mind exploded with possibilities. There was so much about him she didn’t know, and even though she’d sworn early on in this relationship that it would be safer not to know all his secrets, it was overwhelmingly vital now that she understood him.
‘I don’t know where to start,’ she said simply, honestly.
When she blinked up at him, a smile had crossed his face. ‘Come. Let me show you the house.’
At her sound of indignation, he laughed.
‘I’ll answer your questions—relax. We have four days. There is no rush.’
Only it felt as if there was. In the seclusion of the island time seemed both to stand still and move at warp speed, so two nights passed almost in the blink of an eye, every moment sublime. Swimming in the ocean, lying on the sunlit deck, a whole day spent in bed exploring one another, learning, needing, rewarding. She’d fallen asleep some time in the evening and woken up in the middle of the night, starving and full of desire all over again.
On the evening of the third night—their second last—they walked along the beach as the sun dipped into the ocean. It had been a perfect day. They’d explored the island, walking for miles until they’d arrived at a waterfall. They’d taken the steep rocky path to its bottom and swum in the creek at its base.
Jemima still didn’t feel that she knew Cesare’s secrets, but she knew him, all of him—his passion, his drive, his determination, his hunger. She understood him.
‘It’s so beautiful here.’ She eyed the ocean. Despite the unendingness of it, she knew she would never tire of this view.
‘Yes.’
‘You’re not tempted to live here permanently?’
‘Sometimes.’ But it was obvious from his tone that he was joking.
She mulled that over. ‘Where do you live?’
He angled his head to face her, a grin on his face. ‘I’m a citizen of the world.’
She couldn’t help but return his smile. ‘What does that even mean?’
‘It means I fill my passport up every year.’ He lifted his shoulders. ‘I travel, a lot.’
‘Sure, but you must have a home?’