The Italian's Perfect Lover (8 page)

She cried out again, more loudly this time,
and pulled away, but hands grasped her firmly.

“Stop, Emily, it’s only me.” Alessandro
pulled her more firmly to him. She could feel the steady thud of
his heart against her ear as she tried to stay the panic that still
filled her.

“Alessandro! There’s someone outside. A
torch, shining into my room.”

“Hush. It’s only the guards. Come, I’ll show
you.” He took her back into her room and went to the opened window.
“See?” He called down and a guard emerged from the shadows. “È
tutto ok?”

“Si, signore.”

“Andare aventi.”

She heard the guard leave but he still held
her trembling body in his arms and he gently sat her down on the
bed before going back over the window and pulling the shutters
closed with a firm tug.

He poured her a glass of water.

“I’m sorry you were alarmed.”

“I feel stupid. You told me about the guards.
They just slipped my mind and when I saw the movements, I thought—”
She stopped abruptly.

“What did you think?”

She shook her head. Then looked up at him.
“Why were you outside my room?”

“I’ve moved rooms and I heard you cry
out.”

“You’ve moved rooms?”

“Yes, I thought it best.”

“Best? For whom?”

He put down the glass of water abruptly,
spilling a few drops. “You made it quite clear in the office that
you were worried. And, after what just happened, I can see that you
are nervous. I’ve changed rooms because you asked for protection.
I’m here to give it. At night at least.”

“Yes, I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m not used
to being looked after. I guess I’m a bit cynical about such
offers.”

“Cynicism in one so young? I wonder why?” His
voice dropped. “Emily, I’m just here to keep you safe.”

She knew it. She felt it. His presence
changed her room and she did feel safe. But she felt something
more.

He stood close, too close. She felt out of
kilter, unreal. She couldn’t think straight.

“Safe?” she repeated.

“Yes. Safe.” He sat beside her and put his
arm around her and drew her into the warmth and protection of his
body. “Safe from the phantom that haunts you.”

She closed her eyes tight as she drew a long,
deep breath into her lungs. She did feel safe, safe enough to allow
the image of her ex-boyfriend to enter her mind. Because he was her
only phantom.

“How do you know about him?”

She felt his grip tighten in response to her
words.

“Him?” A different note had crept into his
tone—confusion, suspicion, of hurt even. It brought her back to her
senses.

Phantom? He couldn’t possibly know. He was
simply referring to her vague fears of archaeological sabotage.

She pulled away from him reluctantly.

“I— I’m sorry.” Her head began to pound.
“That’s right. I’m worried about people who will stop at nothing to
take away a piece of what doesn’t belong to them.”

He couldn’t know that she was still talking
about her ex.

“No-one will get to you, here, Emily. I
guarantee it. Whoever it is you are scared of.”

Somehow his arms had come around her again,
tentatively this time, and drawn her close to him.

This time she stayed close, not because of
fear, but because this was the place she wanted to be. She felt,
for the first time ever, that she was truly safe. As though she’d
come home.

She could feel his cheek rest gently on her
head in an intimate gesture that was far more devastating to her
than any kiss could have been. She breathed his body in slowly and
then pulled away and looked up into his eyes. They were shadowed in
the darkness, but she could feel their intensity upon her.

He cupped her face with his hands.

“Cara. I don’t know what is going on in that
head of yours. I know nothing about you. But I do know one thing, I
want to know you more. For the moment, you need me. And that is all
I have to offer. The moment. Would you be happy with that?”

She nodded, unable to break the spell of her
body and mind in this man’s arms.

“Don’t leave me.”

Her voice was a whisper.

She awoke to find him gone.

The pale grey light of early dawn was
fingering its way through the old shutters onto the bare boards of
her room, illuminating the rich colors of the Persian rug and
revealing the empty bed beside her.

Tentatively she spread her fingers over the
sheets. They were still warm. He hadn’t broken his word.

She rose and eased open the stiff
shutters.

The morning was forming out of the early dawn
darkness. The air was moist and fragrant and absolutely still. No
gentle breeze playing, no movement of foliage, just a heavy, quiet,
calm. She narrowed her eyes, assessingly.

It felt like change was in the air. But what?
Before Emily could identify the source of her unease the door swung
open behind her.

Alessandro entered, showered and dressed,
looking like he’d just stepped out of Italian Vogue. She swallowed.
Could she really have been held by this man all night? He was out
of her league. She knew it, why didn’t he?

She pulled the tie around her dressing gown
more tightly.

She hoped he’d keep his distance.

“How are you this morning, Emily? Shaken away
the shadows yet?”

Any resistance melted at the concern on his
face.

She hoped he’d come close. She shook her head
at her contradictory thoughts and turned away.

He smiled as if in response to her
expression, walked around to face her and brushed the back of his
fingers down her cheek.

“Well?”

She willed herself to focus on his question,
not on the heat that his hands sent traversing through her face,
through her nerve endings, lighting up every part of her.

“The shadows? They’re gone. For now. Look,
thanks. Thanks for being with me. I was being stupid—I don’t know
what got into me. But thanks for being there for me.”

“My pleasure.” There was something in his
tone that didn’t make her doubt his sincerity.

Her heart was beating fast. Just the smell of
him, the nearness of him, the texture of his fingers on her skin
was driving her to distraction. If she didn’t get away now she’d
make a huge fool of herself and throw herself on him. And she
didn’t want to start the day by being a laughing stock. Which is
what she’d be because what could a beautiful Italian billionaire
possibly want with her?

She smiled briefly, awkwardly and glanced
around, anywhere but at him.

“Anyway, I’d better get ready for the day.”
She stepped away but his hands simply fell to her shoulders and
stayed there. She couldn’t find the strength to move further from
his arms.

“You’re not working today.”

“I always work on a Saturday.”

“No, Emily, I have other plans for us. A
surprise.”

She felt a sense of panic. “What plans? I
don’t like surprises. I need to know.”

“It wouldn’t be a surprise then would
it?”

She couldn’t fault his logic. And she
couldn’t argue with him after he stayed with her last night:
chastely, only holding, not asking, nor wanting anything more. “OK.
But why? What’s all this about?”

“I want to get to know you better, away from
all these ancient things, this old world. You spend too much time
in the past. You need to get away—with me.”

She felt a shiver run down her spine. “Sounds
interesting.”

“But first, we will go shopping.”

She grimaced. “Sounds horrific.”

“Don’t worry. I will make it as painless as
possible. I have people working on it.”

“How can they know what to buy?”

“Because, cara, I have told them. They will
leave the final selection to me.”

“I don’t understand. Why do you want to do
this? Are you trying to make me into someone else? Is that it?”

“Emily! Why would I want to do that?”

“No idea.”

“Who do you imagine I would want you to look
like?”

She shrugged. “Just someone you’d want to be
around.”

“I want to be around you.” His hands gripped
her shoulders more tightly before dropping down and caressing her
arms and back. She winced, knowing that he was touching the very
scars that prevented them from being together. Because once he
found out he’d realize what she knew already, that she wasn’t of
his world.

She shook her head, her heart too full to
speak.

“Cara, why do you not believe me? I thought I
made it plain last night.” He sighed and let her go, his hands
brushing down the sides of her body, his eyes taking in the bulky
lines of the toweling robe that had seen better days. He looked
into her eyes, all irritation gone, replaced by a spark of humor.
“But I would also like to look at you in something other than those
rags you call clothes and those glasses which must be the most
unattractive I’ve ever seen.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my glasses.”

“And that, Emily, is why you need help.”

“Anyway, clothes don’t matter to me.”

“Then it won’t matter to you if I buy you a
new wardrobe, will it? Come, you’re wasting time. The staff has
laid out an early breakfast for us. And then we will leave.”

Emily looked out the window of the private
jet and wondered where she’d missed his reference to flying.

Below her, Naples tumbled down to the water
that sparkled in the morning sunlight. Perched on the hill the
fortress of Castel Sant’Elmo watched over the old city with its
blend of old and new, of poor and rich that gave the city its
vibrancy, its edge. Other cities may be more beautiful, more
cosmopolitan, more sophisticated but none could compete with its
passionate personality and sense of danger.

She turned to look at Alessandro. He was
sipping an espresso as he checked his emails. Her heart thudded.
What was she doing with this gorgeous creature, as dangerous as the
city from which he came?

He was, as usual, dressed in clothes that
even she could tell were of the finest fabrics and cut, taut across
his back and shoulders where he leant forward over his laptop, and
loosely skimming his muscled chest and stomach. But any sense of
vanity was dissipated by how he wore them: shirt, open at the neck,
one sleeve pushed up and the other folded twice. And his hair, as
usual, managed to be sexily tousled without being unkempt. How did
he do it?

She had the careless thing going but
obviously managed to look like someone who needed sorting out.
Irritated, she returned her gaze to the window.

“So, where are we going?”

He looked up at her and grinned. “Still a
surprise.”

“What is it with you and surprises?” she
grumbled. She picked up a briosce and took a big bite. “Surprises
make me hungry.”

He laughed. “Everything makes you hungry. I’d
hate to see you after you’ve worked up an appetite.” His eyes
narrowed. “In fact, I’d rather watch you work up an appetite.” He
snapped the laptop shut.

She glanced at him and frowned. “I’m glad I
don’t know what you’re talking about.” She flicked a look at her
watch. “I could be getting on with work now.”

“All work and no play, makes Emily a dull
girl. I think that is your English expression?”

“Something like that. Not that anyone’s said
it to me before.”

“Poor Emily. No-one has wanted to play with
you before?”

She looked down before he could see that his
jibe had been less playful than he’d intended.

She shook her head and looked up at him once
more, having regained her composure. “Alessandro. I don’t know if
anyone has told you, but you are very bad news.”

“Strange you should say this, because they
have. What can I say? I like to play. I like to follow my nose and
see where it goes. Surely you must have done that.”

“With work, of course. I follow leads,
hunches, but with work. Play is that small amount of time between
eating and bed. Usually about half an hour when I catch up with my
reading.”

He rose and stood over her. “You, cara, are a
sad person.”

“Is that right?”

“It is. And I fully intend to do something
about it.”

“How would you know what would make me
happy?”

As soon as the words slipped out she could
have bitten her tongue. By the look on his face—an expression of
indecent carnal knowledge—she could see that he knew exactly how to
make her happy.

“I have a few ideas and I’ll try them, one by
one, until I find the one that works.”

She couldn’t look away and he refused to.
Then he smiled and glanced over her shoulder, out of the
window.

“We’re nearly there.”

“Where?”

“Milan, of course. Where else to buy
clothes?”

“If you think that’s going to make me happy,
you’re wrong.”

“I am under no such illusion. Shopping for
clothes for you, is in order to make
me
happy.”

Emily pushed her new shoes off and wriggled
her toes. It wasn’t that they were uncomfortable. It was that she’d
never worn shoes that were
so
comfortable. It was as if they
weren’t there. She slipped her feet back inside, relishing the
caress of the soft leather. She sat back from the table of the
exclusive restaurant and crossed her legs, flexing her foot first
one way and then another so she could see them from different
angles.

“So, Emily, I take it that you approve of the
shoes at least?”

She looked up, startled out of her reverie,
and grinned. “They’re OK.”

He laughed. And she wanted to hold that
picture of him in her mind forever. The dark, pine-clad mountains
surrounding the brilliant azure of Lake Como, provided a fitting
backdrop of beauty to his own but did not eclipse it. She took a
sip of wine.

“Just OK?”

She broadened her smile. “They’re fantastic.
Thank you.”