ever seen. The Italian woman’s sleek dark hair was swept up into a sophisticated chignon and she wore a dress which was obviously designer made. Real diamond studs glittered at her ears, echoing the smaller diamonds which sparkled in a watch which was slightly too loose for her narrow wrist. Darcy watched as she presented each smooth cheek in turn to be kissed by Renzo, wondering why she hadn’t worn the turquoise dress after all. Why hadn’t she realised that of course the Italian woman would also wear black, leaving the two of them wide open for comparison? How cheap her own glimmering gown must seem in comparison—and how wild her untameable red curls as they spilled down over her shoulders towards breasts which were much too large by fashionable standards.
‘So…’ Nicoletta smiled as they sat down to prosciutto and slivers of iced melon at a candlelit table decorated with roses. ‘This is your first time in Italy, Darcy?’
‘It is,’ answered Darcy, with a smile.
‘But not your last, I hope?’
Darcy looked across the table at Renzo, thinking it might bring the mood down if she suddenly announced that they were in the process of splitting up.
‘Darcy isn’t much of a traveller,’ he said smoothly.
‘Oh?’
Something made her say it. Was it bravado or stupidity? Yet surely she wasn’t ashamed of the person she really was. Not unless she honestly thought she could compete with these glossy people, with their Tuscan estates and diamond wristwatches which probably cost as much as a small car.
‘To be honest, I don’t really have a lot of money to go travelling.’ She slanted Nicoletta a rueful smile. ‘I’m a waitress.’
‘A waitress?’ Nicoletta’s silver fork was returned to her plate with a clatter, the dainty morsel she’d speared remaining untouched. ‘That is a very unusual job.’ There was a slightly perplexed pause. ‘So how did you and Renzo actually meet?’
Darcy registered the faint astonishment on Nicoletta’s face, but what had she expected? And now she had dropped Renzo in it. He was probably going to bluster out some story about how he’d bumped into her in a bookshop or been introduced at a party by a friend of a friend. Except he’d told her very specifically that he didn’t like lies, hadn’t he?
‘I met Darcy when she was working in a nightclub in London,’ Renzo said. ‘I walked in with some visiting colleagues and saw her serving cocktails to the people on the next table. She turned round and looked at me and that was it. I was completely blown away.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ murmured Cristiano. ‘I have never seen hair as bright as yours before, Darcy. I believe this is what they call the show-stopping look?’
The compliment was unexpected and Darcy met Renzo’s eyes, expecting to find mockery or anger in them but there was none. On the contrary, he looked as if he was enjoying the praise being directed at her and suddenly she wanted to turn and run from the room. Or tell him not to look at her that way because it was making her fantasise about a life which could never be hers.
She cleared her throat, trying to remember back to when she’d worked in that very hip restaurant which had been frequented by the media crowd. To remember how those high-profile people used to talk to each other when she arrived to offer them a bread roll, which they inevitably refused. They used to play everything down, didn’t they? To act as if nothing really mattered.
‘Oh, that’s quite enough about me,’ she said lightly. ‘I’d much rather talk about Tuscany.’
‘You like it here?’ questioned Nicoletta. ‘At Vallombrosa?’
‘Who could fail to like it?’ questioned Darcy simply. ‘There can’t be anywhere in the world as beautiful as this. The gardens are so lovely and the view is to die for.’ She smiled as she reached for a piece of bread. ‘If I had the money I’d snap it up in a shot. You’re a very lucky man, Cristiano.’
‘I’m very aware of that.’ Cristiano’s blue eyes crinkled. ‘Nobody can quite believe that Renzo has put it on the market at last, after years of everyone offering him vast amounts of money to sell it. And he won’t say what has suddenly changed his mind.’
But Darcy knew why. She’d seen the pain in his eyes when he’d talked about his parents’ divorce and suspected his stepmother’s death had made him want to let all that painful past go. He hadn’t said that much but it surprised her that he’d confided in her at all. For a little while it had made her feel special—more than just his ‘friend with benefits.’ But that was fantasy, too. It was easy to share your secrets with someone you knew was planning to leave you.
Except for her, of course. She was one of those people whose secrets were just too dark to tell.
Course after course of delicious food was served—stuffed courgette flowers, ultra-fine pasta with softshell crab and a rich dessert of cherries and cream—all accompanied by fine wines from Renzo’s cellar. Nicoletta skilfully fired a series of questions at her, some of which Darcy carefully avoided answering but fortunately Nicoletta enjoyed talking about herself much more. She waxed lyrical about her privileged upbringing in Parioli in Rome, her school in Switzerland and her fluency in four languages. It transpired that she had several dress shops in Rome, none of which she worked in herself.
‘You should come visit, Darcy. Get Renzo to buy you something pretty.’
Darcy wondered if that was Nicoletta’s way of subtly pointing out that the cheapness of her clothes hadn’t gone unnoticed, but if it was, she didn’t care. All she could think about right then was being alone with Renzo again as she tried not to focus on time slipping away from them. She returned to their room while he waved their guests goodbye and was naked in bed waiting for him when at last he came in and shut the door behind him.
‘You were very good during dinner,’ he said, unbuckling the belt of his trousers.
‘Good? In what way?’
‘A bewitching combination. A little defiant about your lowly job,’ he observed as he stepped out of his boxer shorts. ‘And there’s no need to look at me that way, Darcy, because it’s true. But your heartfelt praise about the property pleased Cristiano very much, though he’s always been a sucker for a pretty girl. He’s going to keep Gisella, Pasquale and Stefania on, by the way. He told me just before they left for Rome.’
‘So all’s well that ends well?’ she questioned brightly.
‘Who said anything about it ending?’ he murmured, climbing into bed and pulling her into his arms so that she could feel the hard rod of his arousal pushing against her. ‘I thought the night was only just beginning.’
They barely slept a wink. It was as if Renzo was determined to leave her with lasting memories of just what an amazing lover he was as he brought her to climax over and over again. As dawn coated the dark room with a pale daffodil light, Darcy found herself enjoying the erotic spectacle of Renzo’s dark head between her thighs, gasping as his tongue cleaved over her exquisitely aroused flesh, until she quivered helplessly around him.
She was slow getting ready the next morning and when she walked into the dining room, Renzo glanced up from his newspaper.
‘I need to leave for the airport soon,’ she said.
‘No, you don’t. We’ll fly back together on my jet,’ he said, pouring her a cup of coffee.
Darcy sat down and reached for a sugar cube. Start as you mean to go on. And remember that your future does not contain billionaire property tycoons with an endless supply of private transport.
‘Honestly, there’s no need,’ she said. ‘I have a return ticket and I’m perfectly happy to go back on FlyCheap.’
The look he gave her was a mixture of wry, indulgent—but ultimately uncompromising. ‘I’m not sending you back on a budget airline, Darcy. You’re coming on my jet, with me.’
And if Darcy had thought that travelling in