bed in the corner?
The second thing he noticed was how clean and unbelievably tidy it was—and the minimalist architect in him applauded her total lack of clutter. There were no family photos or knick-knacks. The only embellishment he could see was a cactus in a chrome pot on the window sill and an art deco mirror, which reflected some much-needed extra light into the room. And books. Lots of books. Whole lines of them, neatly arranged in alphabetical order.
He turned to look at her. She had been careful about sitting in the Tuscan sun but, even so, her fair skin had acquired a faint glow. She looked much healthier than she’d done when she’d arrived at Vallombrosa, that was for sure. In fact, she looked so pretty in the yellow dress with blue flowers which she had stubbornly insisted on laundering herself, that he felt his heart miss a beat. And suddenly Renzo knew he wasn’t ready to let her go. Not yet. He thought about the way she’d been in his arms last night. The way they’d taken their coffee out onto the terrace at Vallombrosa to stare at the moon, and he’d known a moment of unexpected peace. Why end something before it fizzled out all of its own accord, especially when it still had the potential to give him so much pleasure?
He glanced over towards her neat little kitchenette. ‘So... Aren’t you going to offer me coffee?’
‘I’ve only got instant, I’m afraid.’
He did his best to repress a shudder. ‘Just some water, then.’
He watched as she poured him a glass of tap water—he couldn’t remember the last time he’d drunk that—and added an ice cube. But when she put the drink down on the table, he didn’t touch it. Instead, he fixed her with a steady gaze.
‘I’ve had a good weekend,’ he said slowly.
‘Me, too. Actually, it was more than good.’ She gave him a quick smile. ‘Thank you.’
There was a pause. ‘Look, this move to Norfolk seems a little...hasty. Why don’t you stay in London a bit longer?’
‘I told you why—and now you’ve seen for yourself my reasons. I want to start living differently.’
‘I can understand that. But what if I told you I had an apartment you could use—somewhere much bigger and more comfortable than this? What then?’
‘What, just like that? Let me guess.’ Her emerald gaze bored into him. ‘Even if you don’t have one available, you’ll magically “find” an apartment for me? Browse through your extensive property portfolio or have one of your staff discreetly rent somewhere? Thanks, but no, thanks. I’m not interested, Renzo. I have no desire to be a “kept woman” and fulfilling the stereotype of being a rich man’s mistress, even if that’s the way I’m currently heading.’
Her stubbornness infuriated him but it also produced another spark of admiration. How could a woman with so little be so proud and spirited and turn down an offer anyone else in her position would have leapt at? Renzo picked up the iced water and sipped it before walking over to the window and looking out at a red-brick wall. He wondered what it must be like to wake up to this view every morning, before putting on some drab uniform to spend the rest of the day carrying trays of food and drink.
He turned round. ‘What if I asked you to delay going to Norfolk?’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘And why would you do that?’
‘Oh, come on, Darcy,’ he said softly. ‘You may have been an innocent when I bedded you, but you’re not so innocent now. I have taught you a great deal—’
‘Perhaps there’s some kind of certificate I could nominate you for, if it’s praise you’re after?’
He gave a low laugh, turned on by an insolence he encountered from nobody else. He could see the wariness on her face as he took a step towards her, but he could also see the darkening of her eyes and the sudden stiffness of her body, as if she was using every bit of willpower not to give into what she really wanted. And Renzo knew enough about women to realise that this wasn’t over. Not yet.
‘It’s not praise I want,’ he said softly. ‘It’s you. I’m not ready to let you go.’ He reached out to smooth down her riotous curls and felt the kick of lust as he pulled her into his arms. ‘What if I told you that I liked the way you were with Cristiano and Nicoletta? That I find you charming in company as well as exquisite in bed and that maybe I’d like to take you out a little more. Why shouldn’t we go to the theatre, or a party or two? Perhaps I’ve been a little selfish keeping you locked away and now I want to show you off to the world.’
‘You make it sound as if I’ve passed some sort of hidden test!’ she said indignantly.
‘Maybe you have,’ came his simple reply.
Darcy was torn, because his words were dangerous. She didn’t want him showing her off to the world. What if someone remembered her? Someone who knew who she really was? And yet Renzo was only echoing the things she’d been thinking. Things she’d been trying and failing to deny—that she wasn’t yet ready to walk away either.
‘What if I gave you a key to my apartment?’ His voice broke into her thoughts.
‘A key?’ she echoed.
‘Why not? And—just so you know—I don’t hand out keys every day of the week. Very few people are given access to my home because I value my privacy very highly.’
‘So why me? To what do I owe this huge honour?’
‘Because you’ve never asked me for anything,’ he said quietly. ‘And nobody’s ever done that before.’
Darcy tried telling herself it was just another example of a powerful man being intrigued by the unfamiliar. But surely it was more than that. Wasn’t the giving of a key—no matter how temporary—a sign that he trusted her? And wasn’t trust the most precarious yet most precious thing in the world, especially considering Renzo’s lack of it where women were concerned?
She licked her lips, tempted beyond reason, but really—when she stopped to think about it—what was holding her back? She’d escaped her northern life and left that dark world behind as she’d carved out a new identity for herself. She’d been completely underqualified and badly educated but night classes had helped make up for her patchy schooling—and her sunny disposition meant she’d been able to find waitressing work whenever she had put her mind to it. She wasn’t quite sure where she wanted to be but she knew she was on her way. And who would possibly remember her after all this time? She’d left Manchester for London when she was sixteen and that was a long time ago. Didn’t she deserve a little fun while she had the chance?
He was watching her closely and Darcy was savvy enough to realise her hesitation was turning him on. Yet she wasn’t playing games with him. Her indecision was genuine. She really was trying to give him up, only it wasn’t as easy as she’d imagined. She was beginning to suspect that Renzo Sabatini was becoming an addiction and that should have set off every alarm bell in her body because it didn’t matter if it was drink or drugs or food—or in this case a man—addictions were dangerous. She knew that. Her personal history had taught her that in the bleakest way possible.
But now he was pulling her against him and she could feel all that hard promise shimmering beneath the surface of his muscular body. Enveloped by his arms, she found herself wanting to sink further into his powerful embrace, wanting to hold on to this brief sense of comfort and safety.
‘Say yes, Darcy,’ he urged softly, his breath warm against her lips. ‘Take my key and be my lover for a little while longer.’
His hand was on her breast and her knees were starting to buckle and Darcy knew then that she wasn’t going to resist him anytime soon.
‘Okay,’ she said, closing her eyes as he began to ruck up her dress. ‘I’ll stay for a bit longer.’
THE