of servility is most definitely your biggest surprise to date.’
The husky dark tones of a very male laughter flipped her heart over, then it flipped again with relief when he folded the paper away and she was able to see the humour also reflected on his beautiful face.
He wasn’t brooding about Stefan. He wasn’t going to let this newly attained harmony spoil because of a few silly messages. ‘Eat your fruit. Drink your coffee,’ he advised indulgently. ‘We have approximately ten minutes before we have to leave.’
‘Leave?’ She frowned. ‘Why? Where are we going?’
‘I’m going to Venice,’ he replied as he got to his feet. ‘And you, mi bellisima, are coming with me.’
With that, he dropped a casual kiss onto the top of her head and began to stroll arrogantly for the doorway.
But this time no warm smile followed him. No feeling of delight that he was planning to take her along on one of his business trips for the first time since she’d entered his life.
So much for protecting harmony, she mused grimly as she felt it all wither away. ‘When did you decide this?’ she fed quietly after him. ‘Before or after you played back the messages?’
He stopped walking and turned, an almost saturnine figure with his features suddenly cast in bronze. ‘Before,’ he replied, earning himself a flash of scepticism. ‘It was learning that Carlotta would not be around to play chaperon that clinched your fate for you,’ he answered that scepticism. ‘For no woman plays Marco Bellini false while he is safely ensconced elsewhere, capisce?’
Oh, she understood all right. He didn’t trust her to be alone in Milan with Stefan in the same city. ‘So the surprise you promised was never intended as a pleasant surprise,’ she concluded, and smiled cynically. ‘How typical of you to give with one hand and take back with the other.’
‘On the contrary,’ he argued. ‘The trip to Venice could be a pleasure for both of us. It really depends on whether you want to make it so.’
‘Or not, if I decide to stay here instead,’ Antonia pointed out.
The threat had him walking back to her. When he reached her side, he bent to place one hand on the back of her chair, the other flat on the table. The way he loomed over her hinted at menace. Placing her fork in the bowl of fruit, Antonia refused to let her fingers shake as she placed them down on her lap, then sat back in the chair to face his hard gaze squarely.
‘You prefer to stay here?’
His eyes held hers, and were loaded with challenge. Answer yes and she would be lying, not to mention confirming his suspicions about her motives. Answer no and she would be feeding his ego with something she had no wish to feed him now.
She went for the compromise. ‘Stefan is my friend. Why can’t you accept that?’
His eyes didn’t waver, not for a second. ‘Do you prefer to stay?’ he repeated.
Hers did, though; they flickered away on a frown of irritation. ‘Of course I would rather be with you,’ she sighed. ‘But not under duress, and not because you feel it’s your only option!’
‘I could throw you out. That’s another option.’
‘I could walk!’ she lashed back. ‘That’s an even better one!’
‘Are you coming?’ The wretched man wasn’t fazed in the slightest.
‘Yes!’ she snapped, and dislodged his hand by pushing back her chair and shooting to her feet with a jolt of anger.
He just sent her a mocking look. ‘Then eat your fruit and drink your coffee,’ he suggested, and with a wave of a hand walked away again. ‘Come and get me from my study when you’re ready to leave.’
‘I’ll need longer than ten minutes to clear up here before we go,’ she threw impatiently after him.
‘For you, mi amante, I will delay our flight!’
Magnanimous in victory, he left her standing there not sure whether to smile or scowl. The smile won, twitching impulsively at the corners of her mouth as she sat down to finish her fruit. Twenty minutes later she was annoyed again because he hadn’t told her until just before they were leaving that they were going to stay over in Venice, so she hadn’t bothered to pack a bag.
‘Shop for what you need when we get there,’ said the man to whom money had a different meaning.
‘For want of a further five minutes it seems terribly extravagant,’ she complained.
‘Time is money to me, cara,’ he pointed out.
‘Then I’m sorry for costing you money while you waited,’ she said primly. ‘What a problem I am to you.’
Sarcasm or not, he slashed a grin at her. ‘My biggest problem is going to be keeping my mind on business when I know you’re within easy reach of me,’ he murmured lazily.
‘Then I hope you spend your meetings in a state of permanent distraction.’
‘While you do what?’
‘Spend your money as fast as I can produce the credit cards,’ she answered.
He laughed, and kissed her until the lift arrived. After that it didn’t really matter any more that he was only doing this to keep her and Stefan apart. The harmony was back, and she was happy to bask in it. Happy to bask beneath the amount of care and attention he paid her throughout their short flight to Venice and the ensuing journey along the canals until they came to their hotel.
Heads turned, people stared. She basked in that also. For being with a man like Marco Bellini was a bit like walking alongside royalty: paths were smoothed, people deferred. He was rich, he was known, he was handsome and single. Women envied her place in his life. Men envied all his many advantages.
Having safely delivered her to their hotel, he left her to her own devices while he went off to keep his appointments. She shopped till she’d dropped, and spent the rest of her time trailing around some of the tourist sites amongst the thick summer crowds and the heat that melted.
By the time she arrived back in their suite she was so exhausted it was all she could do to run a bath and sink into it. On the bed lay the smart designer bags to go with her new smart designer purchases. On the floor lay the scatter of her discarded clothes.
Letting himself in a few minutes later, Marco smiled at the evidence of her occupation. Antonia was untidy by nature, though she would make the effort to try not to be because she thought it must irritate him. Being brought up to strict rules set by a succession of nannies meant that regimental neatness had become second nature to him.
But it didn’t irritate him. In truth, he liked to walk into a room and see instant proof of her presence. The bathroom door stood ajar, and from behind it he could hear the lazy slap of water which told him what she was doing now.
It was the easiest thing in the world to strip off his clothes and go in there to join her. Up to her neck in bubbles, she smiled as he approached, lifted her knees to allow him room to sit down opposite her, then, on a contented sigh fed her feet up his chest as he stretched his long legs on either side of her.
‘Long day?’ he enquired.
‘Spent your money. Played tourist. Got too hot. Killed my feet. Came back here to die peacefully. And you?’ she returned the enquiry.
‘Made a few lira, invested a few lira.’ His accompanying shrug said it was par for the course. ‘Threw my impressive weight around a bit. Came back here to make love to this woman I know.’
Her eyes began to gleam. ‘Is she any good?’
So did his. ‘Molti bellisima,’ he softly confided, and picked up one of her feet to begin an expert massage to its slender sole. She liked that. Closing her eyes, she simply lay back