CHAPTER SEVEN
LANASTOODBENEATHthe pounding shower, water sluicing over her. She wished it would wash away her tormented thoughts, rinse the heated blood from her body. But it did no such thing. When she emerged, wrapped in a fleecy towel, she felt no less agitated than when she’d fled from him.
From Salvatore.
From the man who was her husband—in name only.
Because it has to be that way—and stay that way!
That was essential. Imperative. Because otherwise...
Memory, hot and humid, flared within her. In an instant she was back outside, hearing Salvatore say her name, hearing the desire in it, feeling her own response to it flare, standing there, quite motionless, with only the sudden thudding of her heart in anticipation...
If only I hadn’t got out of the car and stared up at the stars as I did! If I’d just gone straight indoors! Said goodnight and thank you and headed straight upstairs! I could have... I could have—
Could have maintained the front she’d managed to preserve all evening, dining at that ridiculously romantic rooftop restaurant, letting that vintage wine seep into her veins, doing its disastrous work, lowering the defences she had erected from the very first moment she’d ever set eyes on Salvatore! Had had to erect.
Because anything else—
Is impossible—just impossible! Impossible because it’s just so complicated! Being here, being his legal wife but not his real wife! Knowing I only married him to get my pay-off at the end. So I can’t... I just can’t...make things ever more complicated between us—
Her own desperate words to him out there under the stars burned in her head again, as her eyes went now to the door between their bedrooms.
Closed.
The way it had to be.
Salvatore stared at the screen in his office in the palazzo, but he wasn’t taking in what was on it. He’d slept badly—restlessly—frustratedly. And he was frustrated not just physically, from being denied what his body had so blatantly told him it wanted. No, it was more than just physical.
Lana’s outburst had shocked him—stopped him in his tracks, quite literally. He still could not believe what she had thrown at him.
How can she possibly think that I would take any notice whatsoever of the financial aspect of our divorce agreement at such a moment? And how could she think about it either? Neither the reason we married, nor the outcome of our eventual divorce, has anything to do with what there is between us—what has been there from the very first!
Somehow he had to make her see that. Had to make her see that the reason they had married was irrelevant to what had drawn him to her that very first evening...what had been in her lips when he had kissed her...
He drew a breath, reaching for his keyboard. He had a video conference to join. Work would distract him. And right now distraction was what he needed.
Tonight... Yes, tonight he would start to win Lana back after he had so disastrously scared her off. He did not want to make a mess of it a second time.
For a tantalising moment her image floated in his mind. How lovely she was—and how much he desired her! But his desire for her was not enough—she must accept hers for him. Accept that what drew them to each other was nothing to do with the artifice of their marriage.
It’s between us personally—between her and me.
And that was the way he wanted it to be. Nothing to do with their marriage.
Because marriage—real, lasting marriage, to any woman—was not something he ever wanted to have anything to do with.
Cautiously, Lana made her way out on to the dining terrace. The warmth of the evening was balmy, but it was at odds with the tension inside her that had been there all day, even though she’d thankfully not set eyes on Salvatore at all.
Now, walking out on to the stone terrace in the balmy evening, she saw that he was already there, looking towards her. A bottle of champagne was in a cooler by the table which was set for dinner, soft candles already lit in their glass holders. She glanced warily at the open champagne bottle, smoking gently. What was going on?
Please, please don’t let this be some kind of seduction scene! Not after the disaster of last night!
Her eyes went to Salvatore, her expression still wary. He was looking as gorgeous as ever, a loose-knit cotton sweater in moss-green and a pair of well-cut chinos emphasising his lean, fit build and declaring his innate Italian sense of style, but there was a look on his face that she’d not seen before. Apologetic.
He gave her a brief constrained smile. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘about last night.’
Lana swallowed, her mouth dry suddenly.