Turning to him with a droll expression, she gave him a ‘what do you think?’ expression and he laughed.
“Don’t be.”
“Easier said than done. This,” she gestured to the plane. “Is completely surreal. I don’t remember the last time I flew anywhere. It’s been years. I only have a passport because I needed it for the custody arrangements. And the last time Ididfly, was on a budget airline where I became far too intimately acquainted with my neighbour passenger’s furry knees and elbows.”
Alessio grinned. “But why does this make you nervous?”
“Because it’s new and different,” she reiterated. “I’m outside of my comfort zone.”
“But why should you feel that? I don’t understand.”
“Of course, you don’t,” she said with a roll of her eyes as the plane lifted up off the ground. Fearing for their drinks, she reached forward to grab hers at the same moment he did, and their fingers brushed, sending a shockwave of awareness through Charlotte that made her breath snag in her throat. Her eyes skittled to his. Had he felt it too?
“Meaning?” He sipped his champagne and her eyes dropped to his lips, reminding her of the way he tasted when he kissed her, of the way he felt, and her heart lurched and pulled in directions she was sure it wasn’t supposed to.
“Meaning,” she tried hard to grip reality. “That you were born with all this. It’s completely normal to you.”
“I still exist in the real world. I’m aware it’s unusual. But why should you feel intimidated by it?”
“Because it’s different. Don’t you feel—never mind. Silly question.” Of course, he didn’t feel intimidated, by anything ever.
“Ask it anyway.”
“I was going to ask if you ever felt nervous, about anything, but I can see that you wouldn’t.”
“If that’s true, it’s because I don’t let superficial concerns bother me.”
She tilted her head to the side. “And you think this is superficial?”
“Yes.”
She supposed he was right. They weren’t dating, with a view to falling in love and maybe even getting married. This was a fling. What did it matter if their lives and world views were entirely different? What she needed was to be a little bit more like Melody—to be able to sit back and enjoy the ride.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed a serene smile to her face. “Never mind,” she said, after a beat. “It doesn’t matter.” She sipped her champagne to underscore the point, enjoying the feeling of ice-cold bubbles in her mouth and then throat, all the way to her belly, as the plane lifted higher into the sky and the Cotswolds became a tiny speck of green beneath them.
It was a short flight to Milan, and after Charlotte had gotten past her initial tension and enjoyed a glass of bubbles, her nerves dissipating enough to enjoy the experience, the conversation, the delicious lunch that was served, so by the time they landed, she felt totally at ease.
It didn’t last long. The discombobulating experience of suddenly existing in a whole other world returned the moment the airplane doors opened, and they stepped out into the frigidly cold winter’s afternoon. A four-wheel drive was waiting, as well as two men. One a driver, another, she gathered, an assistant, who began to speak in rapid fire Italian to Alessio, who nodded with a frown and then lifted his hand. “Basta,we will discuss it further at the factory. Gianni, this is Charlotte Smith.”
Gianni gave her a wide smile. He was a handsome man, in his late twenties or early thirties, dressed in a perfect suit with groomed hair, and yet Charlotte could observe him completely objectively. He didn’t make her stomach clutch the way Alessio did when he walked into a room. Attraction and chemistry were strange beasts.
The outskirts of Milan were beautiful. This close to Christmas, the streets were hung with decorations—string lights from one side to the other, and the ground was covered in a dusting of snow that grew thicker as they drove. She stared out of the window, happy to enjoy the view, and every now and again, Alessio would lean over and squeeze her hand, pointing out some landmark or other. It was all completely mesmerising.
The car pulled away from the city and eventually arrived at a large warehouse with tall gates—the logo for Alessio’s company was clear on the signage. Charlotte held her breath.
The car pulled to a stop, someone else came forward to open the doors but rather than be absorbed into the meeting that was waiting for him, Alessio turned to the waiting people, his executives, she presumed, and said, “I will be ready in twenty minutes. I’ll meet you soon.” Then, he turned to Charlotte with that signature smile, put a hand in the small of her back, and guided her through the secure entrance and towards a lift that took them to a large viewing platform that wrapped around the facility. The chocolates were being made beneath them, and she stared at the workers operating so efficiently, fascinated by the procedures. Alessio explained things as they went, his voice low, his lips close, and her stomach tightened into knots with each passing second, until finally she felt like she might burst.
“You have a meeting, right?” She blurted out. “Don’t feel you have to babysit me.”
“But babysitting you is so fun,” he responded, brushing a hand over her backside and moving his lips to her ear.
Desire lashed her from the inside out.
“Come with me.” He moved his hand to hers, weaved their fingers together and drew her away from the viewing platform towards a room that was instantly familiar and comforting to Charlotte: a kitchen, heavy with the sweet aroma of chocolate.
There was a small team working in here, perhaps ten people, and Alessio guided her towards one in particular. “Maria.” The woman, young with curly blonde hair and big brown eyes, looked up as he approached.
“Signore Cavalcante.” She was instantly formal. “Buongiorno.”