Bound To The Sicilian's Bed

Briefly, she looked around the well-stocked library, peered into an imposing gym and gazed wistfully at the infinity pool which overlooked the Mediterranean, wishing she’d remembered to bring a swimsuit. There were six bedrooms in all, the largest of which was obviously Rocco’s, and Nicole’s heart flipped when she saw her suitcase sitting in the centre of the floor.

‘And this is the master suite,’ Michele was saying. ‘I think you’ll find everything you need, but please let me know if there’s anything else I can get you. The fundraiser doesn’t start until eight tonight so you have plenty of time to acclimatise yourself. Would you like me to leave you to unpack? I expect you want to hang up your dresses.’ Michele glanced diplomatically at Nicole’s battered little suitcase as she indicated a section of inbuilt wardrobe doors. ‘Rocco has left plenty of space for your belongings. Or perhaps you would rather have something to drink first?’

Nicole wasn’t planning on putting her belongings anywhere near Rocco’s, but she didn’t want to embarrass his assistant by telling her that. And there was no way she could ever sleep in here—it was too unsettling on too many levels. She could sense Rocco’s presence everywhere. That tantalising scent which was all his—a subtle mix of sandalwood and bergamot. The well-thumbed crime novel which lay open on the bedside table which was probably on exactly the same page as it had been since his last holiday. She could see a pair of gold and lapis lazuli cufflinks lying on the dressing table—and the intimacy of being inside his bedroom again was causing her heart to contract with a flurry of emotions which was making her feel dizzy.

‘Actually, I’d love something to drink,’ she said weakly.

‘In that case, come and I’ll have someone bring it up to the terrace, which I think you might like.’ Michele’s smile widened. ‘You see, I saved the best for last.’

As soon as Nicole stepped out onto the terrace she realised Michele hadn’t been exaggerating. Pursing her lips into a silent whistle of appreciation, she looked out over the balcony. This was the kind of view which only wads of money could buy and Nicole’s first thought was how much she would like to recreate these colours on clay. The deep azure of the sea lay before her in an endless dazzle and above it was the paler hue of the sky. How incredible it would be to make a collection in all these different shades of blue and maybe to hint at the greens and greys of the distant mountains. It was opulent and stunning and it felt unreal. In fact, she felt unreal. But hadn’t she always felt out of place in this wealthy world she’d left behind?

‘Would you like water, or tea?’ Michele was asking. ‘Or we have champagne, if you prefer.’

Nicole shook her head. ‘No, honestly. Water would be perfect. Thanks.’

After Michele had gone, Nicole leaned over the railings and gazed ahead but this time she wasn’t really focussing on the view. She thought about the child she’d once been—the insecure little outcast who had been pushed from pillar to post until Peggy Watson had taken her in. Could that orphaned little girl ever have imagined standing somewhere like this, about to draw a line under her marriage? And despite everything, she felt a pang of pain that she hadn’t been able to make it work. It made her start wondering if there had been anything she could have done to have saved it. If her own grief had made her keep Rocco at arm’s length. Perhaps it had. Perhaps she might handle it very differently now.

But you can’t keep going back over the past. It’s too late to do anything about it now. It’s over.

‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ A rich voice washed over her skin like dark silk and Nicole turned round, her heart clenching. Because Rocco was walking towards her, a glass in his hand-the darkness of his hair almost blue-black in the bright sunshine.

‘Very beautiful,’ she said breathlessly.

‘That’s Cap Ferrat directly opposite—and the land you can see over there is Italy.’ He moved directly in front of her and held out the glass. ‘I believe you told Michele you wanted something to drink.’