these off my desk, Aurora,’ he repeated. It was a warning.
‘But I don’t want them.’ She shook her head. ‘I have shoes to buy, and I need the space in my suitcase.’ She fixed him with narrowed eyes. ‘Assuming I’m allowed to shop during non-work hours?’
He almost smiled at her sarcastic tone, but did not.
A smile.
A kiss.
When combined with Aurora, Nico knew full well the trouble they made…
So he met her glare with one of his own and hoped she’d hear the message in his veiled words. ‘When you’re not working, Aurora, I don’t care what you do.’
‘Good.’
‘For now…’ Nico flicked his hand at the desk. ‘…can we get rid of these and start work? We’re already running behind.’
‘I’ll take them.’
Marianna was rarely flustered as she was now. Aurora had that effect on people.
‘And I’ll get the swatches for the meeting…’
‘Swatches?’ Nico checked.
‘It’s decision day for the Silibri uniforms.’
‘What decision?’ Nico inhaled deeply and tried not to show his irritation. Really? Since when did he get involved in orders for uniforms?
‘They don’t like the green,’ Marianna said.
‘But it’s the same as in all my hotels. I want continuity—’
Nico halted himself, deciding that he would save it for the meeting. He nodded to Marianna, who gathered the bottles and, with Nico’s desk back to its usual order, headed out.
He was surprised when Aurora did not follow, and instead took a seat. ‘I thought you were supposed to be shadowing Marianna?’
Aurora could hear the irritation beneath the silk of his low tone and she spoke hurriedly. ‘I wanted a moment alone to apologise for being indiscreet. I was making a little joke about the times when you used to stay at our house.’
She grimaced then, because despite her best efforts that hadn’t come out right. There really wasn’t anything to make a joke about. Her father had used to find the young Nico asleep in the park after a beating from his father and had insisted he come and sleep at their home. Aurora would be moved to a made-up bed at the foot of her parents’ and Nico would be given her room.
‘Apology accepted,’ Nico said, and got back to his spreadsheets.
He was still angry, though, Aurora knew, and she was cross with herself too, for she had been so determined to be serene when she saw him.
Nico did not make her feel serene.
‘Anyway…’ Aurora continued, and under the desk she gave his knee a playful little tap with her foot. ‘We were never in bed together—you took my virginity on the couch!’
Her breath hitched as he caught her ankle with his hand and gripped it tight for a second. She wished—how she wished—that he would run that hand up her calf, but he scolded her instead.
‘I didn’t take it, Aurora. You very willingly gave it to me.’ He pointedly removed her foot and released his grip. ‘You pleaded with me, in fact.’ He turned back to the computer. ‘It’s forgotten now.’
Liar.
For Nico, sex was necessary and frequent—if a touch emotionless. And it was always a smooth and controlled affair, taking place in his suite at the hotel, never at his home.
It did not compare to the panting, hot, sweaty coupling that had taken place with Aurora.
Nothing could ever compare.
‘Forgotten?’ Aurora checked.
‘It happened just the once and it was a long time ago.’
‘Four years, Nico.’
Yes, it had been four years since that night, and Nico had been paying for it ever since.
That one slip had cost him millions.
Tens of millions, in fact.
Though the cost of a new hotel had been preferable to another night under the Messina roof.
He did not glance up as she stood and walked to the window.
This was hell.
Nico was aware he had treated her terribly.
He should never have slept with her.
They had been supposed to marry. Of course they had never had a say in it, but as they’d grown up it had become a given. Her nonna’s house had been left to her father, Bruno, and he had kept it for them to reside in after their wedding day.
Nico had been able to think of nothing worse. Stuck in that damned village, living opposite the in-laws and working all day on the vines.
Aurora had taken it well when he’d told her they would never marry. She had laughed and said something along the lines of Thank God for that.
It had been the sun that had made her eyes sparkle, Nico told himself. She had been sixteen then, and a skinny, slip of a girl. He hadn’t seen her for a few years after that.
Oh, but when he had…
He glanced over to where she stood, looking out towards the Vatican City, and though he wanted to turn back to his computer screen he could not resist a double-take.
There was nothing, Nico thought, more beautiful than a beautiful Sicilian woman.
She was dark-eyed and dark-haired, with voluptuous curves that had never seen a gym let alone a scalpel or silicone. Beneath her full bust in the white crochet dress there was a thin strap of leather, tied in a bow. He could think of no other woman who might look so sexy in such a dress, but she certainly did. He wanted to pull on that bow…he wanted to bare her breasts and pull her onto his knee. To kiss that mouth and properly welcome her to Rome.
His eyes drifted down to her shoes, which were neutral. Her legs, though, were not—their olive skin was bare and her calves were toned. His gaze followed the line of her long limbs until it rested where he knew he would find dark silken curls; he knew, too, the grip of those thighs.
She was fire. And he must do all he could not to let it catch him. For what Nico craved in his life was order.
Aurora could feel his eyes on her and she liked the vague, unsettled feeling that tightened low in her stomach and brought a hot and heavy sensation between her legs.
She had seen him since that fateful night—of course she had. But since the morning after they had never been alone.
Now, for a few precious moments, they were.
Aurora had practised this moment in her head and in the mirror so many times, and had sworn to rein herself in. But what had she gone and done?
Teased and cajoled and tried to draw a reaction from this cold immutable man, who had ruined her for anyone else.
Yet she could not bring herself to regret losing her virginity to him. Aurora would never regret that.
She attempted a more bland conversation. ‘I like Rome…’
‘Good.’
‘Though I love it in the early morning. I went exploring this morning…’
Nico looked back to his computer screen.
‘I felt as if I had the city all to myself. Well, not quite…’
She thought of the cafés and markets opening, and the street cleaners she had encountered on her early-morning walk—the walk during which she had promised herself that when she saw Nico later