Her Roman Holiday (5 page)

He spun to face her so abruptly that she took a step back, her own anger quelled by the silver fury of his glare.
 
“I do not intend to let it reach that stage.
 
I am having Antonia’s infidelities investigated.
 
When I tell Paolo the truth, he might hate me, but I will have evidence, so at least he will not disbelieve me.
 
If I told him now and he went home to her lies, then I would lose a friend, a valued colleague and it would all have been in vain, if his infatuation blinds him to the truth.”

“Oh,” Calia said in a small voice.
 
“Right.
 
Well I guess that makes sense.
 
Sorry I got a little carried away.
 
I guess it really isn’t any of my business.”

“Correct.”
 
He turned and continued walking.
 
Calia followed in chastened silence
—
until he flung open a pair of wooden double doors into a dream of a room.
 
Calia’s initial impression of high ceilings, antique, dark wood furniture and fluttering draperies drew an excited gasp from her.

“How lovely, Gio!
 
And this is your spare room?
 
I really am lucky I ran into you.”
 
She threw him a cheeky grin, glad of the opportunity to introduce a new subject.
 
She walked over to the curtains and pulled them back to reveal glass-paned doors that opened onto the sunlit courtyard.
 
From where she stood, she could see the little fountain she had heard earlier.
 
“It sure beats an overpriced hostel, complete with sagging beds and thirty-odd roomies.”

She turned back to find him watching her with a dark intensity.
 

Suddenly, the room felt several degrees warmer.
 
Her smile faded as her breathing tightened.
 
She wanted to cross the room, run her hands over that wide chest of his, twine her fingers into his thick hair.
 
She wanted him to pull her into the kind of hard embrace that demanded she meet it with equal passion.
 
Did he feel the same compulsion?
 
She swallowed against the sudden dryness in her throat.
 
“Gio?”

When he spoke, his voice had grown thick.
 
“You are so bright, so elusive.
 
I never know which way you will go next.”

The heat rose inside her
—
a wave of exhilaration.
 
That this darkly sexy man thought her mysterious and intriguing triggered a surge of heady excitement.
 
She watched him, suddenly hungry to get closer.
 
She took a step forward.

Something flared in his eyes.
 
His expression darkened, and he turned away.
 
“I will leave you for now.
 
Take what time you need to rest and freshen up.
 
Larissa will call you for afternoon coffee at around five o’clock.”

Calia frowned as she watched him stride towards the doors.
 
“Gio!”

He stopped, but it was several moments before he turned to face her, every inch the aloof businessman.
 
His gaze looked beyond her, as if his mind had already moved on to worthier subjects.
 
“What is it?”

She scrambled for a response, her courage suddenly fleeing, along with her certainty that he too had felt the thronging current of sexuality between them.
 
“Um… Will you be around later?
 
I thought Larissa mentioned something about a reception.”

“I have no plans on being there very long.
 
But I will likely have dinner in town beforehand.”

She nodded.
 
“Right.”

“Until later, then.”
 
He inclined his head briefly, then turned and left, pulling the doors closed behind him.

Calia walked over to the bed and let out a low groan as she flopped across it.
 
With him gone, she suddenly felt every minute of her sleepless night and the roller coaster of a morning that had followed.

The next sound she heard was a quiet knocking.
 
She blinked and sat up, momentarily disoriented.
 
Then, as the full recollection filtered back, she groaned again, looking around the room.
 
The shadows had shifted, and the sunlight had mellowed into the rich gold of early evening.

The knock came again.

Calia pushed the hair out of her face and scrambled off the bed.
 
“I’ll be right there!” she called as she strode across the room.
 
She opened the door.

Larissa’s concerned expression softened into a smile.
 
“Ah,
la povereta!
 
You slept well, yes?”

“Yes, thanks Larissa.
 
I must really have been exhausted.”

“Is okay.
 
I will be serving afternoon coffee in about twenty minutes.”

Calia let out a puff of air.
 
“Okay, great.
 
I’ll be down by then.”

“If you want to wash up or anything, there should be towels in the top drawer of the dressing table.”

“And where’s the shower?”

Larissa gestured in its general direction.
 
“Is two doors down on your right.”

“Thanks again, Larissa.
 
I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

“
Sì, sì.
 
Take your time.
 
We can wait a little.
 
Is no problem.”

Seventeen minutes later, Calia stood before the mirror in her room, surveying herself with a critical eye.
 
She had taken a quick shower and managed to dig up one of the several lightweight, crease-resistant summer dresses she had packed.
 
This particular one was in bold fuschia
—
all romantic softness and flowing fabric that clung to just the right curves.
 
The colour made her dark brown hair seem almost black, as well as contrasting nicely with the pale gold tinge her skin had acquired after a week of sightseeing.
 
She wore the sandals she had bought on a splurge in Paris, whose straps consisted of ribbons that crisscrossed up her calves.

She didn’t have time to dry her hair, so she had clipped it into a tidy twist.
 
By the time it began to dry, several tendrils would have worked their way loose to curl gently around her face, softening the look.
 
She applied a quick sweep of makeup to her eyes and lips.
 

Then, she smoothed the silken fabric of the dress over her curves, trying to quell her nervousness.
 
After seeing her at her worst
—
and she still wasn’t sure what he had made of that
—
how would Gio respond to her now?
 
She knew that her designer knockoff dress
—
bought on sale, no less
—
and simple makeup wouldn’t stand up for a moment against the kind of elegant women he normally encountered.
 
Would he think these little attempts at sophistication were silly
—
or worse, pathetically ineffective?

Calia hesitated, poised to fling the dress aside and climb back into her jeans and a clean t-shirt.
 
But something stopped her from removing the garment.
 
Why should she care what he thought of her?
 
Because of some brief flare of possibly one-sided attraction?
 

She raised her chin and met the amber eyes of her reflected self.
 
This is me.
 
Like it or lump it, Giovanni Diamanti.
 

Then, head held high, she spun away from the mirror and strode from the room, before she could change her mind.

Her bravado lasted until she entered the sitting room
—
and met his smoldering silver gaze.
 
For a breathless moment, she froze, held in place by that mesmerizing stare as a wave of heat suffused her body.
 
He had dressed for the reception that he would be attending later
—
and he looked absolutely devastating in the casual elegance of a dark shirt and slacks, his golden skin, black hair and hard features sending her body into overdrive.
 

They eyed each other like circling predators for several hungry moments, while her mind raced.
 

He wants me—I can’t be misreading him.
 
A man doesn’t look at a woman like that when he’s indifferent.

Then, his mouth thinned and he looked away, his jaw clenched, triggering in Calia a strange blend of vindication and embarrassment.

He does want me.
 
But he’s not happy about it.
 
The sinking feeling that accompanied the thought had her straightening her shoulders.
 
Maybe he didn’t think she was good enough for the likes of him.
 
As far as she was concerned, that was his problem
—
and his loss.
 
She strode into the room with as much regal dignity as she could muster and he stood politely until she was seated in a chair adjacent to his.

Larissa had already set out coffee, biscotti and custard fruit tarts.
 
Calia helped herself, her senses sharpened by his presence.
 
She could just catch the faintest trace of that spicy fragrance she had come to associate with him.
 
Now, it only served to heighten the jumpy tension that had edged her nerves since entering the room.

“So, when do you leave for the reception?”

He swallowed a sip of coffee, then glanced at his watch.
 
“In about twenty minutes.”
 
He glanced at her.
 
“You can come if you wish.”

“Now that I’m halfway presentable?”

“More than halfway, I should say.
 
You’ll put all the other women there to shame.”

Calia had to laugh, pleased in spite of her desire to take the compliment with a grain of salt.
 
“That’s laying it on a little thick, don’t you think?
 
I mean, if you want me to come, just ask.”

He returned her smile.
 
“The compliment was in earnest.
 
But, come to think of it, showing up with a beautiful woman on my arm may help in keeping Antonia at bay for the evening.”
 
His expression grew thoughtful.
 
He sat forward.
 
“That gives me an idea, in fact.”

“I’m all ears.”

“You will come with me tonight and we will pretend to be an item.
 
With any luck, that will keep Antonia off my tail.
 
Another woman’s presence will at the least hamper her, and I will be able to concentrate on business, rather than on trying to evade the wretched woman.”

“I don’t know, Gio…”

He sat back, shrugging.
 
“What’s not to know?
 
It is an excellent plan.”

“It just seems strange, that’s all.
 
I mean, I’m from a different world.
 
How convincing is it going to be that we’re an item?”

“We will make it convincing.”
 
His devastating silver gaze captured hers and held it.
 
“I have every confidence in your acting abilities, Calia.”

The way he said her name, with just the hint of a cadence, gave her shivers.
 
And in truth, that was the real reason behind her hesitation.
 
The charade would play too closely into what she fantasized about every time she looked at the man.
 
That they were together.
 
That they were wildly in love with each other and ready to leap into a passionate embrace at the slightest provocation.

Of course, it wasn’t an impossibility
—
she had noticed he didn’t wear any rings, and certainly, there seemed little evidence of a serious involvement between him and another woman.
 
Besides, if he were otherwise involved, then why would he be suggesting that Calia pose as his latest paramour?
 

She sighed.
 
After all, such speculations didn’t necessarily mean that getting involved with someone like Gio was in any way a good idea.

Calia frowned, and her reluctance must have shown in her expression, because Gio sat forward and took one of her hands in his, sending shivers through her, even as she held herself stiffly back from increasing the contact.
 
He met her gaze and she wanted to lose herself in the hypnotic beauty of his eyes.
 
“Calia.
 
It will only be a pretense.
 
A charade.
 
You need not worry that anything more will come of it.”
 
He smiled.
 
“Tonight, it would be useful if I did not have to worry about Antonia’s machinations.
 
If you do this for me, I will pay you.”

Those final words broke the spell.
 
She pulled her hand from his, her face heating with a combination of shame and anger.
 
“No.
 
You will not.
 
If I agree to this, then it’ll be because I want to.
 
Because you’ve done me the kindness of offering your hospitality and have asked me for a favour in return.
 
Not for money.”

“I am sorry,” he said smoothly.
 
“I have offended you once again, and that was not my intention.
 
Please forget I ever mentioned money.”