but never your fake husband. Know that now, or get the hell out.’
There was a brief stand-off but finally Sophie sat.
‘Do you want a drink?’ Luka offered, and reached for the phone. ‘I can have some lunch sent up...’ He frowned in slight annoyance when his call wasn’t immediately answered.
‘She resigned,’ Sophie reminded him as he replaced the receiver.
‘So she did.’
‘You could perhaps ring down to Amber,’ Sophie said. ‘I’m sure she’d be only too happy to assist Mr Cavaliere...’
Perhaps because he heard the disdain in her voice Luka gave a soft, mirthless laugh.
‘Have you slept with every woman in this building?’ Sophie asked.
‘All the good-looking ones,’ Luka said, and then shrugged. ‘I don’t have to explain myself to you.’ He stood. ‘We’ll go and get lunch.’
‘I don’t want to go out for lunch and sit and reminisce. I want to talk...’
‘Sophie, I can assure you that I don’t want a cosy lunch and a trip down memory lane. I have a meeting at two that I need to be back for and I’d like to have eaten by then.’
They took the elevator down and Sophie smiled a pussycat smile again at Amber as they walked through the foyer.
‘You’ve got a nerve coming here and calling yourself my fiancée,’ Luka said. He was furious that she could, within the space of half an hour, completely disrupt his life. Amber was sulking, Tara was gone and now, given he had just agreed to be her fiancé, the next few weeks would be a sexless hell, lying in bed beside her.
‘I have nerves of steel,’ Sophie said.
Almost.
Until she’d gone to Rome, she had hardly been out of Bordo Del Cielo and now she was in a foreign city with a man who was so familiar he felt encoded. It seemed wrong not to touch, not to hold hands, but instead to walk painfully apart down the busy street.
They entered a restaurant and were led through to the back—clearly he came here often because they greeted him by name. The waft of the aroma of herbs and garlic made her feel a little sick.
There was a flurry of menus but Luka shook his head. ‘No wine.’
‘Am I business?’ Sophie checked, as the wine waiter walked off.
‘If you were business,’ Luka said, ‘there would be the finest red breathing now.’
‘If I were pleasure?’
‘Champagne in bed,’ Luka said. ‘Just one glass for me, though. I’d have to get back to work.’
‘So too would Amber?’ Sophie flashed.
‘I always give her the afternoon off afterwards,’ Luka retorted. ‘I’m nice like that.’
She was angry and more so when she saw that Luka was ordering for her—no doubt he didn’t think her capable.
‘I can order for myself,’ she flared.
‘I’m sure you can,’ Luka said, ‘but I have about thirty-two minutes before I need to get back, I’m hungry, angry and I’m guessing you still eat pasta... This isn’t a nice lunch, Sophie, this is sustenance because I didn’t have time for breakfast.’
‘Why was that?’ She couldn’t resist raising her eyebrows and then she knew she had gone too far because he leant across the table and put her straight back in her place.
‘Don’t ask me about these last years Sophie. You could have been in them, you chose not to be.’ The waiter came back with two bowls of pasta and Sophie sat bristling as he refilled her water.
She never cried.
Never.
She almost did now, she could feel this sting at the back of her nose. Oh, it wasn’t quite bread and water. But almost. She got pasta and thirty-two minutes of his precious time—she got his attention, but the irritated version of it.
How might it have been?
‘So you work as an events planner?’ Luka checked. ‘Full time?’
‘No.’ Sophie shook her head. ‘I mean yes, but I have cleared my diary, given that he might be getting out of prison...’
‘That must have cheered your clients.’
‘I handed them over to a friend in the business.’
‘Good,’ Luka said.
They talked business, or rather they discussed cold facts.
He told her about his Rome apartment and while she was there he called the management and told them his fiancée would be moving in.
‘Over the weekend,’ Luka said, but as Sophie went to protest he hung up.
‘The judgment isn’t till Wednesday.’
‘You’ll need time to get your bearings and move some of your things over. Give your name at Reception and they will give you a key and help with your luggage. I’ll be there Tuesday night...’
‘Maybe we should wait to see what happens in court.’
‘We’ll just have dinner, sort out some final details...’ Luka glanced at the time. ‘I need to get back.’
Sophie went to stand but he gave her a look that had her halt. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I was going to walk back with you.’
‘Why?’ Luka asked. ‘We have said all that we need to for now. I will see you on Tuesday night. I have a lot to sort out between now and then. Just give me your number in case I need to contact you.’
‘I’ll contact you.’
‘Fine.’
He walked out of the restaurant and Sophie sat there, watching him disappear into the street, and not once did he look back.
‘Could I have the bill?’ Sophie asked, but the waiter shook his head.
‘It’s been taken care of’
She looked at the businessmen ordering coffee, at the groups of laughing friends sharing desserts and the loving couples taking their time over a leisurely lunch with wine.
It was a long ride back to Heathrow.
Yet it felt like a very quick flight back to Rome.
She arrived at Fiumicino airport, where Bella was waiting for her.
‘Credeva voi?’ Bella asked.
‘Yes, he believed me,’ Sophie answered.
Luka believed she was rich.
Luka believed she was successful.
Even at her very best, he still did not want her.
‘THIS COULD HAVE all been yours,’ Bella said, as they walked through Luka’s apartment in Prati on the eve of judgment day for her father.
They had picked up the keys in Reception and had declined help with her luggage, but as they’d let themselves in both had been blown away.
Yes, they had seen it online, but walking through it was breath-taking. The tall arched windows were beautifully dressed in heavy fabric. The décor was a mixture of antiques yet there was every modern luxury.
‘There’s an internal elevator,’ Bella said. ‘Shall we go up to the rooftop?’
Sophie shook her head. ‘I’ll explore there later.’