The Platinum Collection: A Diamond Deal: The Flaw in His Diamond / The Purest of Diamonds? / In the Brazilian's Debt

‘I have an apartment in Rome.’

‘Of course you do.’ She sighed with resignation.

‘It’s a city apartment and I think you’ll like it.’

‘But all my clothes are at the palazzo.’

One rucksack and a heavy parka? ‘So we’ll buy some more.’

‘Life is always so simple for you.’ She didn’t sound pleased. ‘And no. We will not buy some more clothes for me. What do you think I am?’

‘A small shareholder in the mining company I’ve invested in. Just call it an advance on your next dividend.’

That silenced her—for around ten seconds. ‘That sounds very confident.’

‘I’m a very confident man, Signorina Skavanga.’

‘I noticed,’ she murmured beneath her breath.

* * *

This was amazing, Eva thought as Roman led her through the grand entrance into a tiled courtyard of what had to be one of the most magnificent buildings in Rome. To describe this as a city apartment hardly did it justice. If there was one thing she had noticed about billionaires—bearing in mind she only knew one—it was that they were masters of understatement. And they certainly knew how to rack up the miles. Distance meant nothing to them. Hotels were redundant. Roman appeared to have a home in every worthwhile stopping off point in the world.

And Rome was definitely worthwhile, Eva reflected, marvelling at the grandiose surroundings as the cool of plaster walls and marble floors soothed her heated senses. Roman had pointed out all the unbelievably well preserved historical sites as they were driven from the airport to the city. To see ancient buildings co-existing next to very modern structures was astonishing. The modern city of Rome had been built around artefacts that left history intact as a lasting reminder that everyone carried a legacy from the past. The Coliseum was so much bigger than she had imagined, and infinitely more menacing, while the Vatican City with its stunning rococo architecture was breath-taking. Roman had asked their driver to stop at the Trevi Fountain, where he had pointed out the statue of Oceanus, god of all the waters, who gazed out sternly from his horse-drawn shell chariot, which was guarded by conch shell blowing tritons.

‘It’s magnificent...’

‘You’ll have to come back here one day,’ Roman had teased her when they got out of the car to take a closer look. She had stood gaping like the country bumpkin she was. And then he had pressed a coin into her hand, and when she had asked him what it was for he’d told her to toss it over her shoulder into the water, and she would come back... She’d laughed, but she did as he said. Hearing the coin splash into the water had made her think about all the other wishes it was joining. Had any of them come true? she had wondered.

‘Eva?’

‘Sorry.’ She shook herself round, realising Roman was waiting for her to cross the shady courtyard and join him.

‘The security is for the Italian president, not me,’ he murmured discreetly when she gazed at the security guards in their dark suits and dark glasses. ‘We share the same building,’ he explained.

‘Of course you do,’ she said wryly. ‘No. Seriously,’ she added, teasing him with what was fast becoming their catchphrase, ‘I believe you.’ They both laughed.

‘Would you like to go out for supper tonight?’ Roman asked as he ushered her in through an ancient ornate door.

She clocked the butler in his dark, beautifully tailored dark suit, who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere to open the door for them, and who now faded into the background, as if he worked on astral orders rather than spoken instruction.

‘Eva?’

‘Sorry.’ She shook her head in an attempt to shake herself round from all the surprises. ‘I was distracted.’

‘I was just saying—or would you prefer to stay in?’

‘Oh, go out,’ she said quickly, and then blushed, realising how naive she must sound to him, but she longed to see something of the city while she was here. And also, after her last disaster in the bedroom, staying in seemed by far the riskier choice.

‘Let’s say, we’ll meet in an hour,’ Roman said with easy charm, glancing at his watch. ‘If you need me you can reach me on the internal phone. My number’s one.’

‘No. Seriously?’

She got the killer smile for that.

‘At least it’s easy to remember,’ she said, tongue in cheek.

A housekeeper in a dark uniform took over from Roman to show Eva the way to her fabulous suite of rooms. There were high ceilings, gracious furnishings and beautiful mouldings on the pale silk-covered walls. All the many fascinating architectural details had been renovated with respect and skill. The quality of everything was unsurpassed. Even the air seemed to hold a particular scent. Money, she thought, reverently running her fingertips across a gilded console table. On the top of the table was a single turquoise vase. White roses had been arranged in this together with fragrant spikes of lavender. The scent was indescribably lovely. She could scorn such extreme wealth all she liked, but Roman’s money would save Skavanga, just as it had allowed him to restore this historic building. Perhaps she needed to rethink her beliefs a little. She was beginning to wonder if some of her less worthy campaigns hadn’t been an escape from her insecurities, and a chance to expend some of her frustrated sexual energy.

Having examined every inch of the sitting room overlooking one of Rome’s most impressive squares, and then her equally lavish bedroom, bathroom and dressing room, she kicked off her shoes and threw herself down on the vast bed. But there was no time to bask in these fabulous surroundings. She must be ready to go out and explore Rome in less than an hour. Explore Rome with Roman. That was as perfect as it got.

She took a bath in the gloriously restored bathroom, where the best technology and efficient plumbing existed happily side by side with stained-glass windows and marble pillars. She could have basked in warm suds all night, but shot up hearing a knock on the door. It definitely wasn’t Roman. His rap was unmistakeable and this was a polite knock.

Wrapped in a robe with her hair in a towel, she opened the door. The landing was deserted, and it was only when she turned back to the room that she saw the gown rail packed with the most amazing clothes. This was flanked by a line of carrier bags from possibly every exclusive store in Rome. Closing the door, she went to investigate and found handbags, underwear, shoes, shawls, and—

‘Roman Quisvada, come here this minute,’ she blasted down the phone. ‘No, I won’t take no for an answer. How did you guess I wasn’t going to accept your largesse? Don’t you know me yet? You’re sure I must like something? If you want to take me to supper, you can take me as I come or not at all.’

‘Is that a promise?’ he drawled.

‘You—’ She growled at the silent receiver in her hand. Roman was on his way to ‘help her pick out an outfit’, apparently. That should go well!

* * *

A sense of anticipation gripped him as he approached Eva’s suite of rooms. It was useless telling himself this was wrong, and that she was a baby and he was not. A fiery baby, maybe, but an innocent one, none the less.

So why was he taking the stairs two at a time?

Because he wanted her and she wanted him. Why complicate things?

He knocked on the door. She swung it wide. ‘Problem?’ he said, walking in.

‘This,’ she said, gesturing at the gown rail. ‘An advance on my dividend? Do you know how small my personal investment in the mine is? I’ll never be able to pay you back for all this.’

‘So don’t keep all of them. Choose one.’

‘Even one of these outfits would take me a decade of dividends to pay off. And what’s wrong with what I’m wearing?’ she said, indicating her jeans. ‘Or are you ashamed to be seen with me?’

‘Not at all. I don’t even know what makes you think that. I just thought it would be nice for you to have some clothes to choose from.’

And he was right. It was better than nice. Did she have to throw every gesture back in his face? ‘I just feel awkward,’ she admitted. ‘I’m not used to all this fuss. It was very thoughtful of you, but it’s too much.’

‘I’m just trying to save time. Stop ranting and start dressing is my advice, or we’ll lose our table.’

‘I hardly think that’s likely.’ Bearing in mind who had booked that table, but she was hungry, and—

‘Look, Eva. If you’re so worried about paying me back, why don’t you come and work for me?’

The bombshell dropped out of the blue, and she had nothing to say to that. No speech prepared.