The Italians: Rico, Antonio and Giovanni: The Hidden Heart of Rico Rossi / The Moretti Seduction / The Boselli Bride

‘That sounds tacky.’

‘But that’s what it boils down to.’

‘I guess. We’re both busy and neither of us wants to get involved.’ Honesty compelled him to add, ‘But there’s something between us.’ Ever since she’d left Rome, he’d told himself that she was nothing special. Seeing her again was supposed to prove that.

Except it hadn’t.

Not that he was prepared to admit quite that much to her.

And maybe seeing more of her would make this thing burn itself out. He’d get bored, the way he always did. And it would end before it stopped being fun. Before it started being serious.

‘What do you want, Rico?’ she asked.

He wasn’t sure he could answer that. He knew what he’d always thought he wanted—to be in sole charge of the business. Which he was. And the fact that it wasn’t enough for him any more, that expanding into London excited him less than the thought of seeing her, made him antsy. He threw the question back at her. ‘What do you want?’

‘You’re not supposed to answer a question with a question.’

‘What do you want?’ he repeated.

She sighed. ‘I don’t know. I thought I’d got you out of my system. Tonight was supposed to be closure. And look what happened. I’m naked and in your bed.’

He already knew she felt bad about that. Which made it easier for him to admit, ‘It was completely mutual.’

‘So do we walk away from each other now?’

His head was telling him to run like hell. His heart was telling him to stick around. ‘Do you want to walk away?’

‘It would be the sensible thing to do.’

The ‘but’ was loud and clear. She felt the same way he did. Mixed up and torn between the options. Safe and not safe.

‘I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you right from the start,’ he said.

‘I guess you had your reasons for what you did. I think they’re ridiculous reasons, but I suppose you weren’t doing it out of a sense of meanness.’

‘No, I wasn’t. It’s the way people are with me—they see me in terms of what I can do for them. With you, it felt different. I didn’t want that to change.’ She looked so cute, and he was so, so tempted just to lean forward and steal a kiss. But he held himself back. Just. ‘I really ought to go and find your clothes, let you get dressed, and take you down to dinner. But I have a feeling that they’re going to be pretty crumpled—just as mine are.’

‘I didn’t think of that.’ She bit her lip. ‘Everyone’s going to look at us in the restaurant when we walk in and jump to conclusions. Worst of all, they’re going to be right.’

‘Let’s order room service. We can eat in the other room. And it means we can try talking again, without an audience.’

‘OK. That sounds good.’

He handed her the menu. ‘Have a look through and choose what you want.’

He disappeared into the living room, then came back a few moments later with her clothes neatly stacked in a pile, which he placed on the chair. Shortly afterwards, she heard the shower running. He emerged from the bathroom wearing only a towel wrapped round his hips; she wasn’t sure whether it was his near-naked body or his smile that made her heart skip a beat.

‘Help yourself to whatever you need in the bathroom,’ he said. ‘By the way, I had a word with Reception. The hotel laundry service can press your stuff for you while we’re having dinner.’

Ella felt the colour bloom in her face. ‘Oh, God. So they know what we’ve—’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ he cut in softly. ‘We’re not the first people who’ve got a bit carried away and we won’t be the last. Anyway, for all they know, you spilled something over your jacket and skirt and had to sponge your suit down.’

She knew he was trying to make her feel better. But it didn’t quite work. ‘Mmm,’ she said.

‘Look, there’s a robe behind the bathroom door. You’re very welcome to use that until your suit’s ready. Have you decided what you’d like from the menu?’

‘The salmon, please. And can I be greedy and have the chocolate-dipped strawberries for pudding?’

‘Great idea.’ Though the suddenly heated expression in his eyes told her that he had ideas about the strawberries. Ideas that involved her.

Ella almost, almost climbed out of bed, removed his towel and dragged him into the shower with her. But sense prevailed—just—and she waited until he’d left the bedroom before heading for the bathroom.

The hotel toiletries were gorgeous, citrus-scented, and the towels were large and super-soft. When she came out of the shower, she noticed that her suit and shirt had gone. So he’d kept his word about the laundry service, then.

Dressed in the soft, fluffy bathrobe, she padded barefoot back out to the living room where Rico was waiting for her.

‘Thank you for sorting out the laundry.’

‘Prego,’ he said, giving her a tiny bow.

He was fully dressed in a clean white shirt and chinos.

‘You’re pretty high maintenance, aren’t you?’ she asked.

‘How do you mean?’

‘You always wear a white shirt and it’s always pristine. I hate to think what your laundry bill’s like.’

‘Don’t you think I do them myself?’

‘No. Because I think you’ve costed out how much that time’s worth to you and you’d rather use that time in a more productive way,’ she said.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Is that you talking as an accountant, or are you giving me the reason why you use a laundry service?’

‘I do my own laundry, actually. Ironing time is good thinking time. And I’m an ex-accountant for the time being.’

‘I’ll try to remember that,’ he said dryly.

‘So you’re thinking of buying this hotel?’

‘It’s a possibility, yes.’

‘Why London?’

‘Because we already have four hotels in Rome, and to have any more would mean we’d be competing against ourselves.’

‘Expanding your empire into another country. Veni, vidi, vici. Maybe I should start calling you Julius,’ she teased.