Her Roman Holiday (10 page)

“So how did she end up with Paolo?”

“She came back to Italy a few years ago, and we’d run into each other, from time to time, but I continued to make it clear I had no interest in her.
 
So, she turned her attentions to Paolo in the last year or so.
 
I must admit that I had hoped she might have genuinely seen his fine qualities and come to appreciate them, since she played the doting female quite convincingly at first.”
 
He shook his head, his mouth twisted into a contemptuous sneer.
 
“But now, the whirlwind courtship and wedding are over and she’s started showing her true colours.”

“It sounds like she’s obsessed with you, Gio.
 
It’s kind of sad, in a way.”

“What is this?
 
Female solidarity?” he snarled.

“I know you’re angry, but don’t take it out on me, okay?
 
I’m not saying that it excuses her.”

His profile was austere and unforgiving.
 
“You are correct.
 
Any sympathy I might have had for her disappeared when she started playing her manipulative little games with my best friend and tying him up in knots.
 
Paolo is a brother to me.
 
He deserves better.”

“No argument there.”

They came to a stop in front of Gio’s car and he inclined his head towards her.
 
“What a relief that we are in concurrence.”
 
He spoke with an edge of disdain, before opening the door for her with an ironic flourish.
 

Calia narrowed her eyes at him.
 
“The only thing I don’t get is why Antonia would pick such an insufferable boor to be obsessed with in the first place,” she said, before sliding into the passenger seat.

“I do not presume to understand the perverse complexities of the female mind,” was his reply.
 
He slammed the door before Calia could formulate an appropriate rebuttal.

As he settled into his seat and started the car, Calia let out a hard breath.
 
The man was driving her mad.

She watched him as he negotiated the bustling streets.
 
“Why do you do that?”

He frowned.
 
“Do what?”

“Make nasty, sexist comments all the time?”

The corner of his mouth lifted.
 
“You are very easy to provoke.
 
Sometimes I cannot resist.”

“So you don’t really believe all that stuff?”

“I did not say that.
 
But I will confess I am not usually so blunt in stating my views.”

She let out a puff of breath.
 
“I see.
 
Well, for the record, I get it.
 
You don’t trust women
—
and nothing I say is going to change your mind.
 
You figure we’re good for one thing and one thing only.”

He grinned.
 
“You do me a disservice, Calia
—
it is simply not true.
 
Women are good for many things.
 
Having babies, keeping house, cooking…”

Calia rolled her eyes as a smile tugged at her own lips.
 
“Heaven spare me.
 
Okay, so you’re provoking me, but I have a creepy suspicion you actually believe what you’re saying.”
 
She shook her head.
 
“I have the deepest sympathy for whatever woman you eventually condescend to marry
—
for dynastic purposes, no doubt.”

“Why else?”
 
He shrugged.
 
“You can hardly expect I’d do it for the companionship.
 
But I have no plans to marry for some time yet.
 
I have decided to wait as long as possible before burdening myself with a spouse.”

“At which point you’ll marry some docile girl who’ll be content with whatever crumbs you throw her way when you get around to remembering you have a wife.”

“I intend to marry a woman who knows her place, if that’s what you are trying to say.”

“A woman who knows to call your secretary and make an appointment when she’s fertile, so all that stuff can be conducted in the most expedient manner possible.”

He laughed.
 
“What an excellent idea.
 
I shall have to remember that.”

But despite the facetious tone of their banter, Calia couldn’t help visualizing the kind of marriage he was describing.
 
Something distant, cold and probably very lonely, with two people inhabiting the same spaces, while never really being together at all.
 

“All joking aside though, Gio, that’s kind of sad.
 
I mean, I think you have a lot to offer a woman and it would be a pity for all that to go to waste or be sublimated into your work.”

“Do not worry yourself about my future wife, Calia.
 
She will have no reason to complain.
 
She will have full access to all that I have to offer
—
the houses, the assets and the funds.
 
Within reason, of course.”

“That’s not what I meant, as I’m sure you know.
 
You can’t think much of yourself if you believe a woman would only marry you for your money.”

“Your naïveté is touching, but misguided.”

She groaned and threw up her hands.
 
“I give up, all right?
 
Happy, now?
 
And I can only hope that whatever poor girl you do decide to marry will be content with that and won’t do anything crazy like
—
oh, I don’t know, fall in love with you or something.”

He gave a mock shudder.
 
“Heaven forbid.”

They drove in silence.
 
Then,
 
“So why the solicitude about my future wife?”

“What you’re describing just seems very bleak, that’s all.”

“And what of you?
 
You claim to have no plans to marry at all.”

She shrugged.
 
“Well, not for a while, at least.
 
I want to have kids someday and if I find a man whom I can love, then I’ve got no objection to doing the family thing with him.”

“Am I to infer that you plan to have children, regardless?”

She nodded.
 
“Not for a while.
 
But definitely once I’m established.
 
It won’t be easy, but I’m fine with that.
 
I’d rather that, than relinquish my independence to some guy I don’t love or respect, just for the sake of the children he could give me.”
 
She noted his sardonic expression and grinned.
 
“And no, I’m not trying to make a point about your notions of matrimony.
 
It’s just the way I happen to feel.”

“So do you plan to trick some hapless fool into fathering your children if you don’t find an appropriate male within the right timeline?”

“I do not,” Calia retorted with firm dignity.
 
“Contrary to what you think about honesty and women, I tend to prefer the open approach to communication.
 
I’d make sure the father knew what I was about, and was comfortable with it.
 
And if he wanted to be part of the parenting process, I’d be open to that as well.
 
I think positive role models of both genders are important for a child.”

“Do you?”

She bristled at his indulgent tone.
 
She gave him a saccharine smile.
 
“And you’d be a perfect example of why.
 
Your views of women are unhealthy and destructive.
 
I can only imagine it’s because of a lack of positive role models in your past.”

“May the Lord protect me from self-righteous women.”

“You know, I somehow suspect he has.
 
That’s part of the problem.”
 

“Not as I see it.”
 
He glanced at her briefly, before returning his attention to the road.
 
“Are you always this insufferable?”

She laughed.
 
“Watch it, Gio.
 
You might hurt my feelings.”

“I do not see you suffering from a surfeit of tact.”

“Actually, I’m not usually this bad either.
 
But what can I say
—
you bring out the worst in me.
 
Though I figure if I can dish it, I’d better be able to take it.”

“Is that right?”

She nodded.
 
“I can take care of myself.”

“So you keep insisting.”

The light had faded gradually, as they drove out of the city.
 
Now they turned up the drive to the villa.
 
Though her attraction for him had added a piquancy to their sparring, with her mind engaged in their discussion, Calia had been able to shove aside the physical immediacy of their attraction.
 
But now, as he parked the car and turned to face her, she was struck once again by the full force of his sexual potency.
 

She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry.
 
She could just make out his neutral expression in the fading remnants of twilight.
 
For a few, suspended moments, they watched each other in silence, and all of Calia’s uncertainties returned.
 

“Well?”
 
His voice, thick with dark promise, cut through the hungry tension of the moment.
 
“It is your decision, Calia.”

Hearing that voice, feeling the tight pull of his magnetism, Calia could feel her doubts slipping away.
 
She wanted Gio just as much as he wanted her.
 
It wasn’t as if she hoped to have a relationship with him.
 
Would it really be so terrible to indulge in this urgent desire?
 

They would be having sex, not making love, so why not enjoy it for what it was?
 
Calia nodded, an unconsciously sensual smile spreading across her face.
 
Enjoy the experience, then walk away without regrets.
 

In the fading light, she saw the answering gleam of his grin, before he bridged the distance between them, cupping her face in the curve of his palm.
 
Their lips met and the electricity of the contact swept away any lingering doubts.
 
Calia leaned into him, into the sensation, her body responding to the chemistry that had been fizzing between them all evening.

Finally, he broke away.
 
Calia dazedly noticed that it was now completely dark and he was a shadowed outline, close enough for her to feel the heat of his skin against her own.
 
Only then did she realise they were still sitting in his car, embracing over the parking brake and gearshift, like randy teenagers.

“We should go inside,” she murmured.

“My thoughts exactly.”

Then he touched her again, and suddenly her lips were against his, hungrily accepting the thrusting heat of his probing tongue.
 
This time, it was Calia who managed to pull away before she lost all sense of herself.
 

But even as they made their way into the villa, Calia’s senses were completely swamped by her awareness of him.
 
The taut, predatory grace of his movements.
 
The sexual intensity in his eyes when he glanced back at her.
 
The spicy, masculine smell of his skin, that her body already associated, inextricably, with
Gio
.
 
She was only dimly aware of their surroundings as she followed him through the house.
 
Her flesh yearned towards his, yearned to continue what they had begun in the car.

She barely noted that he had closed his bedroom door behind them
—
but even before he had finished turning around, she knew the precise moment he pushed aside all other thoughts, returning his full attention to her.
 

And she was ready for him.
 

The heated trails left by his fingers, as he ran them up her thighs with feverish urgency, momentarily eclipsed the fact that he was pushing up her dress.
 
As soon as she realised what he was doing, she grabbed the fabric herself, pulling it up and over her head in a swift, urgent movement.
 
His eyes darkened and he let out a groan as he pulled back briefly to survey the expanse of her bared flesh, her breasts perched high and firm in the confines of her bra, the intimacy of her womanhood still concealed by the silky scrap of fabric between her legs.
 

But she didn’t allow him time for further observation, instead beginning her own campaign to divest him of his clothes.
 
Her fingers clumsy with the urgency of her need, she began unbuttoning his shirt.
 
He helped, eventually tossing it aside with abstracted carelessness.
 
She ran caressing hands over the hard, golden contours of his chest, reveling in the feel of his muscles, even as she feasted on the sight of them.
 
Then, he leaned into her, pressing his mouth against hers, his tongue plunging between lips that she opened eagerly to receive him.

She moaned at the hard strength of his hands, unclasping her bra, before sweeping across the curve of her back with a rough sensuality.
 
She barely noticed when he began moving forward, forcing her backwards
—
she was too caught in the excitement of pressing her mouth against his, exploring his depths with her tongue as her hands moved over the muscled hardness of his back.

And then, she was being lowered backwards, onto pillowed softness.
 
His bed.

He straightened a moment, watching her, his predator’s eyes dark with desire, until she gasped his name in protest.