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 a chauffeur-driven car was the height of luxury, then flying in Renzo’s private plane took luxury onto a whole new level. She saw the unmistakable looks of surprise being directed at her by two stewardesses as they were whisked through passport control at Florence airport. Were they thinking she didn’t look like Renzo’s usual type, with her cheap jewellery, her bouncing bosom and the fact that she was clearly out of her comfort zone?
But Darcy didn’t care about that either. She was just going to revel in her last few hours with her lover and as soon as he’d dismissed the flight crew she unzipped his jeans. As she pulled down his silk boxers she realised this was the last time she would ever slide her lips over his rocky length and hear his helpless groan as he jerked inside her mouth. The last time he would ever give that low, growling moan as he clamped his hands possessively around her head to anchor her lips to the most sensitive part of his anatomy. Afterwards, he made love to her so slowly that she felt as if she would never come down to earth properly.
But all too soon the flight was over and they touched down in England where his car was waiting. Darcy hesitated as the driver held open the door for her.
‘Could you drop me off at the Tube on the way?’
Renzo frowned, exasperation flattening his lips. ‘Darcy, what is this? I’m not dropping you anywhere except home.’
‘No. You don’t have to do that.’
‘I know I don’t.’ He paused before giving a flicker of a smile. ‘You can even invite me in for coffee if you like.’
‘Coffee?’
‘There you go. You’re sounding shocked again.’ He shook his head. ‘Isn’t that what normally happens when a man takes a woman home after the kind of weekend we’ve just had? I’ve never even seen where you live.’
‘I know you haven’t. But you’re not interested in my life. You’ve always made that perfectly clear.’
‘Maybe I’m interested now,’ he said stubbornly.
And now was too late, she thought. Why hadn’t he done this at the beginning, when it might have meant something? He was behaving with all the predictability of a powerful man who had everything he wanted—his curiosity suddenly aroused by the one thing which was being denied him.
‘It’s small and cramped and all I can afford, which is why I’m moving to Norfolk,’ she said defensively. ‘It’s about as far removed from where you live as it’s possible to be and you’ll hate it.’
‘Why don’t you let me be the judge of that? Unless you’re ashamed of it, of course.’
Furiously, she glared at him. ‘I’m not ashamed of it.’
‘Well, then.’ He shrugged. ‘What’s the problem?’
But Darcy’s fingers were trembling as she unlocked her front door because she’d never invited anyone into this little sanctuary of hers. When you’d shared rooms and space for all of your life—when you’d struggled hard to find some privacy—then something which was completely your own became especially precious.