“You know, calm. It’s nice.” The response was awkward. She lifted her face to his and finally saw the way he was looking at her, so her breath snagged in her throat and she felt an odd rush of feeling – of many feelings, all tangled together so she couldn’t understand a single impulse that was overtaking her body.
There was guilt, certainly, because her body was warm all over, her pulse throbbing, her heart racing, her fingertips aching with a need to reach out and touch this man. Why should she feel guilty, though? Because of Michael? The very idea sparked defiance in her chest. He’d already taken enough from her. He’d hurt her enough. He didn’t get to have any place in this – he was a completely separate part of her life – a part of her past, not her present and certainly not her future.
That was why she was here, in Italy. Because here she needed a circuit-breaker; a fresh start. His eyes dropped to her mouth and her heart lurched because she wanted, more than anything, to feel his lips on hers. A tiny sound escaped her lips – something between a groan and a plea – but it was enough to startle her. She took a small step back, smiled tightly and returned her attention to the view.
“And you like calm?”
His own voice was gravelled and it sparked a tsunami of need in her belly. She tamped down on it with effort.
“Who doesn’t?”
He was quiet and despite her best intentions, she found her eyes lifting to his.
“Why do you come here?”
Surprise flashed in his eyes. “The same reasons as you, I suspect.”
Maddie doubted that, but she didn’t say as much. To deny his assertion was to invite questions she wasn’t willing to answer. She hadn’t spoken to anyone about Michael. She couldn’t, and it was so hard to explain why. She hated that she felt a degree of shame for what she’d been through, because she understood it was completely out of her control, but it was hard to admit to what had happened – no, it was hard to admit why she’d stayed after the first time he’d hit her. She’d truly believed though that he’d made a mistake. It had seemed so out of character at the time, except it wasn’t, obviously.
She’d left London, telling her parents she had a deadline and needed to write away from distraction, telling her friends only that she and Michael had broken up without fleshing out any further details. And she told no one where she was going. She didn’t dare risk it. Michael was charming and clever and could undoubtedly persuade someone to open up to him about her location.
It had been instinctive to keep her secrets close to her chest but now, in the presence of a man she’d known for less than an hour, she felt a compelling desire to speak truthfully. Perhaps it was the anonymity that came of spending time with someone you didn’t know, and likely wouldn’t see again?
Or perhaps it was more complicated than that, she admitted grudgingly, as she flicked her gaze to his face once more. He was a stranger to her and yet she felt an instinctive tug towards him, a trust she wanted to be guided by even when she knew better than to rely on her instincts. Instincts that had, after all, guided her to Michael.
“I don’t know your name,” she said with a small shake of her head, the intensity of this overwhelming.
“It’s Nico,” he provided, his eyes scanning her features, as if looking for something – she couldn’t say what.
“Nico.” She repeated it, filling the silence with another question. “Is it short for anything?”
“Niccolo,” he nodded. “Conqueror of the people,” his voice assumed a deeper tone and he posed his features into a mask of strength so she laughed.
“Perfect.”
“Si?”
The question surprised her, because it forced her to admit that yes, she’d been speaking honestly. There was something about him that spoke of victory and conquering, of being conquered.
How she wished she had a tighter grip on her body’s responses! But she didn’t – a force was at work that was so much bigger than her. Desire was flaring in the pit of her stomach and even when she could think of a dozen reasons to ignore it, she knew she absolutely didn’t want to.
“Yeah.” She angled her body to face his, her pulse racing, her tempo firing. Was she really going to do this? Do what? Her brain screamed. He might not be interested in her. She might be misreading everything. Before Michael, it had been a really long time before she’d dated anyone. She wasn’t good at this stuff.
And this guy was really gorgeous. Undoubtedly he could have his pick of anyone. Lightning flashed just beyond the window and she startled. It wasn’t much. Just an involuntary shiver – barely enough to register. But his hand shot out, as if to steady her, his strong fingers curving around her arm. The lightest touch, so gentle and reassuring, but it shot little arrows of awareness through her bloodstream and made her cheeks burn with heat.
“You’re okay?” He murmured. Had he moved closer? Or had she? They stood toe to toe, so she had to crane her neck to meet his eyes now. She could feel his chest moving with each breath he drew.
She nodded, sucking in a gulp of air that was spiced with his intoxicatingly masculine fragrance.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“You’re jumpy.”
She was. She had been since Michael. Her lips twisted into a grimace. “Yeah. Sometimes.”
“You don’t need to be.” A divot formed between his brows. “You’re safe here.”
Had he intentionally chosen the word she’d let slip earlier? She bit down on her lower lip, chewing it distractedly. “Am I?”