She turned to face him, lips parted, those expressive eyes showing that while Rome had captivated her, he was the cherry on top.
She showed him the same enthusiasm she felt for this city, for the world he was opening up to her, but pleasure was short lived. Always there was the question in the back of his mind: was this how it had been for his father?
He pulled away, his smile tight, and if he’d turned back to look at Phoebe, he would have seen the confusion briefly dim her pleasure. But then her hand lifted to the necklace and she toyed with it, smile restored.
One of his drivers was at her door, opening it, so by the time Anastasios rounded the helicopter, Phoebe was on the rooftop, and Anastasios was very, very aware, on a cellular level, of the way the evening breeze pulled at her dress, so that she might as well have been naked. He was also aware of the way his driver’s gaze lingered on her figure a moment too long, his appreciation apparent.
Anastasios’ hand tightened by his side, and he looked away, catching his breath and his temper.
“I’m excited,” she murmured, moving closer and putting her hand in the crook of his arm, the sweetness of her words and her gesture blowing away his bad mood like sand in a storm.
Downstairs, a sleek black car was waiting. He opened the door before the driver could, his body close to Phoebe’s as she stepped into the car and wriggled to the far side. A moment later, he brought his body down beside hers, close enough that their thighs touched.
This evening already felt like a masterclass in foreplay.
For dinner, he’d chosen a hotel with a rooftop restaurant overlookingilcolloseo. It was far more touristic than he would ordinarily frequent, but he knew Phoebe would love it—he was right. She was so captivated by the beauty of the view, she didn’t seem to notice the way people looked at her. Everyone from the waitstaff to the patrons stared as she crossed the space, hands lifted to her lips. She turned to face him, tears in her eyes.
“This is incredible.”
Was that his heart, thumping so hard, as though he’d run three marathons, back-to-back?
“I’m glad you like it.”
“Who wouldn’t?” She murmured, with a soft shake of her head. The same gentle breeze lifted her hair now, so the fragrance of vanilla and jasmine wrapped around him. He put a hand in the small of her back, a jolt of awareness shocking him as they moved to the table his assistant had reserved, by the edge of the restaurant, with incomparable views.
“Of course, this is our table,” she said, as they were seated. “Always the best for you.”
“My assistant arranged it.”
“Ah. And the necklace?”
“That was me.”
She glanced down at the table, her throat shifting visibly as she comprehended that.
“What a fascinating life you lead, Anastasios.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Look at what we’ve done today,” she said, with bemusement. “Taking your jet ski off your enormous floating palace, cruising the Italian coastline, dressing up like Cinderella, a bucket of diamonds wrapped around my neck, a helicopter to Rome followed by a chauffeured car to dinner. What next? I literally can’t think of anything to top this.” She was quiet a moment, her lips pulling to the side. She hesitated, searching for words.
A waiter appeared, brandishing menus and Anastasios wanted to tell him to get lost—he was far more interested in whatever Phoebe had been about to say. But when the waiter disappeared, the moment was gone.
“You said you wanted to see a little of the world.”
“Are you now my guardian angel?” She prompted.
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
She turned to look at the view. “I never would have thought I’d be sitting here like this.”
“How come you haven’t travelled,” he pushed. “England is not far from the continent. A train or flight can be easily arranged.”
“I know,” she said with a lift of her shoulders. “But I never seem able to justify it.”
He remembered then what his friend Tommy had said, that Phoebe’s financial circumstances were stretched. “Surely your job pays well enough? And your accommodations are presumably affordable.”
“They are,” she said with a small lift of her lips. “You’re just like your father,” she said quietly. “He could never understand why I make the sacrifices I do.”