Her Roman Holiday (18 page)

“The next meeting with Sorvignac is not till tomorrow.
 
I have been dealing with all other essentials from my office, with my remote connection here at the villa.
 
I wanted to see how you were this morning.
 
You are certainly looking better, notwithstanding the histrionics.”

She suddenly felt painfully awkward.
 
She couldn’t look at him, but somehow her eyes were having difficulty finding another place to settle
 

“I-I should go and get dressed,” she muttered.
 
Had some alien taken possession of her body?
 
She’d always been able to cover up her nervousness with bravado
—
so what was with all the muttering and feeling like she suddenly had too many limbs?
 

Just goes to prove what I always thought—falling in love really is like getting a lobotomy.
   

“Would you like some help?
 
Though I am usually indifferent to gifts, I would take great pleasure in unwrapping you from that towel.”

Calia swallowed, hard.
 
She wasn’t ready to make love to him.
 
Not yet.
 
“Um
—
maybe later, Gio,” she said, edging away from him, towards her room while still avoiding his gaze.

Just as she reached for the door handle, she permitted herself a glance at him.
 
He was frowning as he watched her, but he didn’t protest her hasty retreat.
 

“So I’ll see you in a little while, then.
 
I just have to get dressed and then I’m going to scare up some breakfast.”
 
As she spoke, she pushed the door open.
 
Then, she slipped inside and closed it behind her, leaning against it with a slow exhalation.

She dressed with unsteady fingers, her mind still reeling from the magnitude of what she had somehow allowed to happen.
 
When had she let her guard down
—
and how had she been stupid enough to allow such feelings to slip past her defenses?
 
She didn’t know.
 
All she could do now was try for some damage control.

So, after pulling on a pair of shorts and a tank top
—
couldn’t let him think she was dressing for him, now could she?
—
she straightened her shoulders and took a few deep breaths.
 
Be steady.
 
She told herself.
 
Calm.
 
Flippant, even.

They were passion partners
—
and nothing more.
 
Because no matter how much he objected to the phrase, he clearly had no problem with the meaning behind the label.
 

Love simply wasn’t in the contract.

* * *

She was deflated to discover he was nowhere to be found when she went in search of breakfast.
 
It was only as she poured herself a second cup of coffee that he appeared in the doorway of the dining room, his expression neutral.
 
For a few moments, they eyed each other like a pair of diplomats about to enter tricky negotiations.
 

Then, as he came into the room and sat adjacent to her at the table, Calia returned her attention to her fruit salad with studied nonchalance.

He broke the silence.
 
“So, would you like to tell me what that was about?”

She made herself finish chewing the bite of honeydew she had taken.
 
Then, she swallowed, as she pretended to think about it.
 

Finally, she spoke, “Would you care to elaborate on the question?”
 
Evasion.
 
She nodded to herself.
 
Always a good tactic.

The loud slap of his palm against the table made her jump in her seat.
 
“I dislike moody women,” he growled.

She stared at him with wide eyes.
 
“Sheesh, you’re one to talk!
 
Maybe you should try hitting the table harder next time.
 
I didn’t quite hear the wood crack.”
 

“Sarcasm is also a very unattractive trait.”

“I’ll be sure to remind you about that the next time you’re ripping my clothes off.”
 
This was good.
 
So long as she didn’t look at him too often, she could manage to sound more or less like her usual self.
 
Very good.

“Besides,” she continued, “liking wasn’t part of the contract
—
unless you somehow slipped it by me in the small print or something.”

He watched her with narrowed eyes.
 
“What game are you playing at?
 
You have been projecting a strange… attitude.
 
Since yesterday.
 
I thought it was the sun, but now I begin to wonder.
 
I do not like it.”

She sighed, setting down her bowl and fork.
 
“Are you always this paranoid?”
 
She frowned at him.
 
They said it was sometimes best to hide the truth in plain sight.
 
Time to test the hypothesis.
 
“So what are you thinking?
 
That I’ve suddenly fallen madly in love with you?
 
Maybe that I’ve decided to trap you with my amorous machintions?”

He snorted.
 
“Not likely.
 
No.
 
I think you are having second thoughts about this.
 
Perhaps you are one of those people who try to antagonize the other person into ending things so that they do not have to do the dirty work.”

“Do I strike you as the passive aggressive type, Gio?
 
Someone who has trouble with directness?”

He scowled at her.
 
“You have a point.
 
So then?
 
Have I given you reason for uneasiness?”

She shook her head.
 
“No, no.
 
Not at all.
 
And I’m not playing any games.
 
I just… got weirded out earlier, that’s all.
 
I don’t usually let people see me running at less than full capacity,” she admitted uneasily, only realizing it was true as she said it.
 
She had always been careful to conceal her vulnerabilities.
 
But yesterday, she had actually gone so far as to snuggle up against him and fall asleep on his shoulder, she realized, her cheeks burning up at the memory.
 
Funny that it hadn’t even occurred to her until now.

Her mortification deepened as she recalled that wasn’t even the first time he had seen her brought low
—
until now, she had managed to conveniently blank out the fact that she had also bawled into his shoulder when they had first met, after that sleazeball had attacked her.
 

She couldn’t recall ever having shown Dave that side of herself.

His expression relaxed.
 
“You have nothing to be ashamed of, Calia.”

“Don’t patronize me.”
 
She knew she was being unfair, but the recollection of her weakness still burned.

“Do you make a conscious practice of being prickly, or is it more of an involuntary defensive tactic?”

“You don’t expect me to answer that, do you?”

He watched her, his expression weary.
 
“Why are our truces always so short-lived?
 
Must you deflect all attempts at personal connection between us?”

“Hey, I agreed to become your lover.
 
That’s pretty personal.”

He shook his head, rising from his seat.
 
“I give up.
 
I will be in my office.
 
Come find me when you feel ready to continue our
—
what was it you called it?
 
Passion play?”
 

She let out an involuntary laugh at the choice of words.
 
He turned to leave.

Just as he passed the doorway, he paused and glanced at her over his shoulder.
 
“Oh, and by the way, the credit company called.
 
They will be sending someone around with your replacement card sometime this morning.
 
They said that the thief made no attempt to use your card.
 
He must have just taken the cash and trashed the rest.”

After he had left, Calia let out a slow
whoosh
of breath.
 
So, the question was
—
cut her losses now, or give her all to what they did have, and face the emotional consequences later?

She frowned, unsure of how to handle this particular quandary.
 
It was unprecedented in her personal history.
 
For that matter, her entire relationship with Gio was like that:
 
one unprecedented situation after another.
 
If not for the unusual circumstances surrounding their meeting, and the fact that she had been penniless and stranded, she probably would have walked away from someone like Gio long before they developed a rapport.
 
So then, they would never have entered into a relationship that was meant to be purely physical
—
her first, which was probably why she had made such a mess of it and gotten her emotions involved.

He, on the other hand, seemed to make a habit of not getting too involved with the women he took as lovers
—
so he didn’t have to worry about these sorts of entanglements.
 

Just the thought of joining the faceless, half-remembered masses of women whom Gio had taken as mistresses sent a stab of bitter, hopeless anger through her.
 
She didn’t want to be just one of those many, forgettable females who had caught his fancy for a fleeting moment or two.

But then again, what choice did she have?
 
Men like Gio looked to settle with quiet, compliant women who would blend into the background when they were not required to fill some specific demand.
 
She wasn’t willing to become that person
—
not even for love.

Far better to walk away than compromise her very self.
 

So, that was that
—
or was it?
 
She shifted in her seat, as another, far more intriguing thought captured her imagination.

She had a little over a week left before her flight home and the end of her association with Gio.
 
A lot could happen in a week
—
look at how much had happened in the last two days.
 
She had managed to get attacked and rescued.
 
She had entered into a physical relationship with an incredibly sexy man and, most unbelievable of all, had fallen in love.
 

Wouldn’t walking away now be the coward’s way out?
 
How could she even contemplate meekly submitting to the circumstances without making even the slightest effort to change them?
 
She’d never do something like that if her career were at stake
—
she had always been determined and clear-sighted where business was concerned.
 
A risk-taker.
 
So why was she considering settling for less in her personal life?
 

She had seven days to try to win Gio’s respect
—
and make him care for her.
 
If she made that kind of progress, she’d be happy.
 
From there, they could work out what would follow and where the relationship would go.

And if she didn’t succeed, then she could walk away, knowing she had done her best.
 
After all, the damage had already been done; she had fallen in love.
 
She had nothing to lose, would be no less devastated if she had to leave him now, with her love unrequited and her prospects for seeing him again just this side of nil.
 

Seven days.

She stood, a smile creeping across her face as she headed for Gio’s office.
 
He had told her she could find him there when she was ready.
 

So now, she was ready.
 
And she had absolutely no time to waste.

* * *

He looked up from his computer as she knocked on his office door, which stood ajar.
 
His expression was neutral.

She gave him a Mona Lisa smile, reveling in his breathtaking good looks, his frowning sexual magnetism.

She had loitered on her walk through the corridors of the villa, wondering what she could do to distinguish herself from his other lovers.
 
She didn’t want to pander to his medieval views about women and their roles
—
she wasn’t about to create a precedent with him that she had no intention of sustaining, if ever she did manage to gain a foothold in his affections.

She finally decided that she would simply show him the best she had to offer
—
and if that didn’t interest him, so be it.
 
There was a difference between agreeing to some give and take in a relationship and selling your soul.
 
The one, she was willing to undertake, with the right person, under the right circumstances.
 
The other, not.

She met his gaze head on, and they squared off like two opponents in a tourney.

“I’m ready for you, Gio.”

His frown darkened.
 
“What is this?”

She had thrown him off balance.
 
Not necessarily a bad thing.
 
She allowed her smirk to widen into a grin.
 
“You told me to come find you when I was ready to continue our passion play.
 
So.”
 
She shrugged.
 
“Here I am.
 
Pawn to king four.”