She crossed her arms over her chest, then immediately wished she hadn’t when his eyes lowered to the swell of roundness there. Anticipation ran like little waves across her skin. ‘So what do you suggest?’
‘I do not intend to make a suggestion, Olivia. Only to point out that the neat and tidy marriage you’ve imagined would never have worked.’
Of course, he was right. She should have seen all the angles. They were talking about a multimillion-pound inheritance. If they were going to fake a marriage, it had to be plausible. ‘Then, what if we were to marry—’ she thought quickly ‘—and live together, here in Rome, but only as housemates. Separate bedrooms, separate lives.’
His lips curled with a hint of derision. ‘I cannot see what is in that for me.’
‘Azzuri Bank—’
‘I will acquire the bank, Olivia, on my own terms. Of that, I have no doubt.’
A shiver ran the length of her spine. His determination was borderline ruthless—she didn’t doubt he’d succeed, and now felt a degree of foolishness for ever thinking a man like Luca Giovanardi could be tempted by something as flimsy as having her as a wife.
‘If you want to tempt me to agree to this, you must think of something to offer beyond the bank.’ A test? He was staring at her as if weighting her reaction.
Her cheeks went from paper white to rosy pink within a second. ‘Are you saying you would want our marriage to be—intimate? Because I have to tell you, I have no interest in becoming another notch on your very well-studded bedpost.’
A cynical smile changed his face completely. The smile whispered things into her soul. Liar. ‘I’m not so desperate that I need to blackmail women into my bed.’
‘No, of course not,’ she dismissed quietly, wishing they were more like equals when it came to relationships. ‘You probably have a line snaked around the block.’
His obsidian eyes narrowed. ‘I was not referring to sex.’
‘Then what did you mean?’
He scanned her face, and she wondered if he was going to dwell on the suggestion of a physical relationship. ‘If we were to marry, there would be no advantage to either of us in maintaining separate lives, under the same roof. News of our marriage would inevitably break in the press, and then, public scrutiny would follow. A housekeeper could be bribed to provide details of our living arrangements. These things happen.’
‘I hadn’t thought of that,’ she admitted.
‘We would need to create the fiction of a passionate, whirlwind romance, for as long as it took to satisfy the terms of the will—I would imagine thirty days would be sufficient.’ He lifted his shoulders in a charismatic, indolent shrug. ‘To that end, we would need to share a bed.’
Her lips parted to form a perfect ‘o’. How she wished she had more experience with men in that moment! ‘Surely that’s not necessary.’
‘I have staff.’
‘Couldn’t they take a holiday for the duration of our marriage? A month isn’t very long.’ Except when you were sharing a bed with a man like this!
His lips twisted into a cynical smile. ‘Don’t worry, cara.I have no interest in sex becoming a part of our marriage. It would be purely for show.’
She stared at him, aghast. She wanted to demur, to fight him on this point, but something was shifting between them, and she no longer felt that failure was imminent. If anything, he was positioning himself to accept. She tilted her head, not quite a nod, but at least not a denial either.
‘It is a big bed. You’ll cope.’
She swallowed, her throat visibly knotting, then jerked her head once more, this time in agreement.
‘Are you saying you’ll agree to do this?’
He considered her for several long moments. Could he hear the rushing of her heart over the sound of the nearby party? Surely. It beat hard and fast, a fast-paced drum, hard against her ribs. He turned away from her abruptly, staring out at the river, his face in profile like something crafted from stone. She stared at him against her will, unable to draw her eyes away. He was captivating and magnetic, completely overpowering. It was not hard to understand how he had made such a success of himself and his life.
‘There is something personal about me you would not have discovered on the Internet.’
She frowned, wondering at his tone, the darkness to his voice.
‘My nonna is ill.’
The words were spoken quietly and yet they fell between them like rock boulders.
Olivia leaned closer, as if that might help her understand better.