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

He sat down on the edge of the bed. ‘Ella. This doesn’t mean I’m going to make demands on you. Or that I’m going to just walk away and ignore you, either. It’s up to you where you want this to go next.’

She swallowed hard. ‘I’m only here for two more nights after this.’

So there was a defined limit. Just how he liked his relationships. They could have some fun and then just walk away. ‘Maybe we can see a little more of each other while you’re here in Rome.’

‘When you’re not working, you mean?’

He smiled. ‘Actually, I happen to be off duty for the next couple of days.’

She gave him a sceptical look. ‘In the middle of tourist season?’

‘There isn’t a tourist season in Rome any more,’ he said. ‘Visitors come all year round. So I can take time off whenever I want to.’ He paused. ‘If you’d like me to show you a bit more of the city, then I’m at your disposal.’

She thought about it, and smiled. ‘Thank you. I’d like that.’

‘Good.’ He leaned over to kiss her, keeping the contact light and non-demanding. ‘So, it’s a date. Shall I call for you after breakfast? Say, half-past eight?’

‘Half-past eight. That’d be good,’ she said.

‘Bene.’ He pulled his clothes on. ‘Then I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘Hang on. I’ll come with you and help clean up.’

He smiled. ‘No, it’s fine. It won’t take me long. And you look warm and sweet and comfortable. Stay where you are.’ He kissed her again, this time lingering until his pulse spiked and she looked flushed and incredibly sexy. ‘Sweet dreams, bellezza.’

Ella curled back under the duvet as Rico left the room. This was the last thing she’d expected to find in Rome. Romance. A fling. And the way Rico had made her feel …

Funny, she couldn’t hear Michael’s voice in her head any more. The justifications, the sharp comments about how he’d had to look elsewhere for his pleasure because she didn’t have a clue how to please a man. Now she knew it really wasn’t true; she’d most definitely pleased Rico tonight. To the point where he’d actually admitted that he couldn’t think straight.

So maybe Rico was right and Michael had dumped his own shortcomings on her. It hadn’t all been her fault.

And tomorrow—tomorrow was suddenly full of promise.

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_07edd7b3-6c79-574a-84d1-118fc857a24e)

AT TWENTY-FIVE minutes past eight, the next morning, Ella was ready to go. As she’d expected, Rico knocked on her door at eight-thirty exactly. He was wearing pale chinos and another crisp white shirt; clearly he wore the same kind of clothes off duty as he did when he was working.

He glanced at her feet and gave an approving nod. ‘Good. Flat shoes. They’re comfortable to walk in?’ he checked.

‘Very,’ she confirmed.

‘Good. Let’s go, bellezza.’

Ella locked the door behind her and Rico ushered her out of the hotel. She tried not to be disappointed that he hadn’t taken her hand. Then again, they needed to be discreet; this was the hotel where he worked, and having a fling with a guest probably wasn’t something that the management would approve of.

Did he have flings like this with many guests? She pushed the thought aside. Even if he did, it didn’t matter. She wasn’t looking for for ever. These few days in Rome were just for her, and she was going to enjoy them. No guilt, no complications—just fun. A few moments out of her real life.

‘So where are we going?’ she asked.

‘To find beautiful views,’ he said. ‘And something a little unusual. And, this afternoon, I think we can do something fun.’

She smiled. ‘Sounds good to me.’

As they walked down the street towards the Colosseum, Rico’s hand brushed against hers. The light contact sent a tingle all the way through her. Another brush, then another, and finally he was holding her hand, his fingers curling round hers. It made her feel like a teenager, which she knew was utterly crazy; and yet she couldn’t help smiling. Today was perfect. A cloudless blue sky, the jumble of ancient and modern buildings that was Rome, and an incredibly charming, gorgeous man to keep her company as she strolled through the streets.

A man who’d given her so much pleasure last night. A man who’d made her see stars. And who might just do that again tonight …

They wandered through the streets together, until they came to a stone wall and she looked over it and saw the river. ‘Wow. I had no idea the Tiber would be so green.’

‘It’s fast-moving, too.’ He pointed out a line of ducks that were struggling to swim against the current, then finally gave up and went with the flow.

She rested her arms on the stone wall and peered into the distance. ‘Is that the Vatican?’

‘That’s the dome of St Peter’s you can see, yes—but, if you want to go there, I’d suggest going very early tomorrow morning,’ he said. ‘The queues at this time of day will be horrendous.’

‘Well, you can hardly go to Rome and not visit the Vatican,’ she said, taking a snapshot of the dome framed by the branches of the trees overhanging the wall.

He smiled. ‘OK. I’ll book us a tour for tomorrow.’

She blinked. ‘But you’re a tour guide. You’d actually take a tour with someone else? Or is that like market research for you?’

‘We need a licensed Vatican tour guide and I don’t have a Vatican pass,’ he explained. ‘But right now I have lunch in mind.’

They walked hand in hand along the Tiber. Rico stopped by one of the bridges. ‘I know I’m not officially a tour guide today, but I’d be failing in my duty if I didn’t tell you that this is the oldest bridge in Rome, built nearly two thousand years ago.’

‘You mean it’s an original Roman bridge?’ And yet it looked as firm and strong as if it had been built with the newest technology. ‘Wow. It’s amazing to think we’re walking in the footsteps of people who lived all that time ago.’

‘The more things change, the more they stay the same,’ he said softly.

Trastevere, on the other side of the river, was incredibly pretty; the houses were painted in a soft wash of terracotta or saffron, vines grew on balconies and terraces, and large pots of shiny-leaved green shrubs graced the doorways. And Ella thoroughly enjoyed their leisurely lunch in the square outside the church of Santa Maria. Sharing a glass of wine with him, seeing the desire glittering in his eyes—brighter than the golden mosaics outside the church that glittered in the sunlight.

Once Rico discovered that she enjoyed looking round the ancient churches, he smiled. ‘That’s excellent, because I was planning to take you to see something a bit unusual in another church, just across the river.’

‘Unusual’ hardly did it justice, Ella thought as she looked at the huge stone disc on a plinth in the portico of the church of Santa Maria in Cosmedin. It contained the carved face of a wild man; his mouth was open beneath his moustache, and wild hair and a beard surrounded his face. There was a crack in the stone going right to the edge from his left eye, and another crack running down from his mouth. Ancient and very, very imposing.

‘It reminds me a bit of one of the Green Men you’d see in an English church,’ she said. ‘What is it?’

‘The Bocca della Verità—the Mouth of Truth,’ he translated. ‘In medieval times, if you were accused of lying, you put your hand through the hole in the mouth. If you could take your hand back unscathed, you were telling the truth.’

‘And if you were lying?’

He shrugged. ‘Then the Mouth would eat your hand.’

‘Seriously? You mean someone stood behind the stone and actually cut off their hand?’ Very rough justice. Though she knew a couple of people who would’ve fallen seriously foul of the Mouth. Her father. How many lies had he told? To her mother, to his wife, to however many women who had made the same mistake as Ella’s mother and fallen in love with a charming, handsome and utterly faithless man.

And her ex. How many times had Michael told her he was studying at the university library, when he’d really been doing something else—or, rather, someowe else—entirely? Another charming, handsome and utterly faithless man.

Or maybe the fault had been hers. For not learning from her mother’s mistakes. For trusting Michael in the first place. Whatever; lying was the one thing Ella really couldn’t and wouldn’t tolerate. And she’d never let herself get involved with another charming, handsome and utterly faithless man again.