But something was nagging at his conscience and he found himself unable to ignore it.
‘You’re not leaving here until you’ve eaten something,’ he said forcefully.
‘And you’d be prepared to stop me, would you?’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘I don’t intend to pick you up for a second time if you pass out and I don’t want the drama of a French ambulance screaming to a halt outside. So why don’t you do something sensible for the first time in your life and eat something?’ he said, turning on his heel and heading for the door.
Rosa stood watching as the door banged shut behind him and she could have burst into howls of frustration. How dare he judge her and find her wanting—when last night he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her?
He could do anything he liked, she realised, because she had put herself in a position to be judged. Angrily, she pushed aside the sheet and headed for the bathroom, recoiling as she caught sight of her reflection in the huge mirror. It was a shock on so many levels, because walking around naked wasn’t something she ever did. In Sicily, she always wore a silk nightgown to preserve her modesty because that was how she’d been brought up.
‘Imagine if there was a fire in the middle of the night,’ her mother had once said, in that tart way she had of speaking to her only daughter. ‘And the fireman found you naked and indecent. That is not the way a lady behaves, Rosa.’
As she stood beneath the torrential jets of the shower, Rosa’s lips curved with derision. She had just accepted her mother’s opinion, hadn’t she? The way she always did. Never realising that the woman who had brought her up so strictly was nothing but a cheating hypocrite.
Quickly, she turned on the cold tap—hoping that the shock of the icy water might wash away the memories of the past few days, but it wasn’t easy to forget her mother’s dramatic confession. She stayed in the shower until she had scrubbed herself clean, and afterwards she found an unused toothbrush and paste and located her clothes and hairbrush. By the time she heard a knock on the bedroom door, she felt a million times better and she psyched herself up to face the judgemental face of Kulal.
‘Come in,’ she said crisply, her heart beginning to race as he walked in. ‘I’m ready.’
‘So I see,’ Kulal said, reluctantly letting his gaze drift over her. Her feet were bare and the crimson minidress brushed the smooth skin of her thighs. For a moment he felt a powerful wave of temptation as he imagined taking her back to bed, before he swatted it away. She was trouble, he told himself. Last night, he might have been swayed by her beauty and her dancing, but in the cold light of day he knew she was best avoided.
‘I’ve ordered breakfast to be served on the terrace,’ he said. ‘So why don’t we go downstairs?’
Hunger made Rosa nod her head in grudging agreement and she followed him down a wide marble staircase and out onto a terrace, where a table had been laid with croissants, juices and jams, and what looked like a dish of iced mango. The terrace overlooked landscaped gardens and, in the distance, she caught a glimpse of the sapphire sea. It felt as if they were in a self-contained world of their own—a private little bubble which was miles away from the hustle and bustle of the French Riviera. ‘Did you say this was a hotel?’ she asked curiously.
‘It is, but I always rent one of the two villas which are attached to it. They come with their own gardens and that affords me more privacy.’
Rosa sank into one of the wicker chairs and looked up into the flatness of his eyes. ‘Which makes it easier to get rid of unwanted overnight guests in the morning, I suppose?’
He sat down opposite her—a movement which immediately heralded the appearance of a butler bearing a large silver pot of coffee. Let her know exactly where she stands, Kulal told himself. Tell her the truth, even if the truth hurts. ‘That is always a consideration to take into account,’ he agreed.
Rosa stared at the inky coffee which was being poured for her before Kulal waved the butler away. She wasn’t going to cause a scene about what he’d just said, when all he’d done was be honest. It would have been much worse if he’d pretended otherwise—if he made out that he’d never taken a strange woman back to his hotel before. And wasn’t she all done with lies and subterfuge? ‘Wise man,’ she said lightly.
Her casual tone made Kulal relax and he sat back in his chair. So she was going to behave herself, was she? He guessed she must have done this kind of thing plenty of times herself. The slightly stilted morning breakfast after a night of red-hot sex.