‘Thank you, Vito,’ she said quietly, the shining tumble of her curls moving as she nodded. ‘It’s a very…generous…offer. But it’s a bad idea.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Because?’
‘I don’t have to tell you every thought that’s going around in my head,’ she defended vigorously. ‘I just don’t want to go to Milan and you can’t make me.’
‘You think so?’ he said softly.
‘Try me!’ she challenged.
So he did. Sitting down in the chair opposite her Vito began to speak, softly at first—while for much of the time, she glared at him. But his determination did not waver. No matter how much Flora railed against his resolve, he was ready for her. This time he would do the right thing. He would be able to live with the knowledge that he had done what was best for her, no matter what the eventual outcome might be. So he cajoled and he coaxed—shamelessly listing the many advantages of being under his protection—which easily overshadowed all her reasons for staying. Every objection she raised he had an answer for, until eventually she nodded, holding up the palms of her hands and giving a heavy sigh of mock surrender.
‘Okay, Vito,’ she said ‘You win. I’ll come to Milan. For a short while, at least.’
But the defiant glint in her green-gold eyes remained and Vito wondered if that was what stopped him from reminding her that healwayswon.
CHAPTER NINE
SUDDENLYFLORA FOUNDherself channelling Alice in Wonderland.
The girl from Ealing was on her way to Milan, mostly due to the persistence of the Italian billionaire.
Not that she had allowed Vito Monticello to have everything his own way. She had firmly put the brakes on the tycoon’s speedy agenda. She told him that no way would she accompany him to Italy the moment he snapped his commanding fingers, insisting on a few days’ grace to make her small flat pristine for the duration of her absence.
‘Why?’ he had demanded impatiently. ‘Let me have an agency do that for you.’
‘No. I want to do it myself,’ she had objected stubbornly. But it wasn’t simply because she needed time to stop and gather her breath and try to get her head around what was happening. Wasn’t the truth that it gave her a kick to defy him? She enjoyed seeing the look of surprise in his eyes, as if he were used to women doing exactly what he wanted.
She gave a set of keys to Joe, who promised to water her plants and keep everything ticking over until she knew what her plans were. Because Flora knew she needed to cling onto her independence. She needed a base to come back to. A place to run to.
Yet things had changed, and she had to change with them.
No longer a stranger to private aviation, Vito’s jet wasn’t quite so intimidating this time around and the enormous limousine waiting for them at the Milanese airfield didn’t faze her one bit. But as the uniformed driver opened the rear door and she slid inside, Flora knew she hadn’t imagined his curious glance. Was he thinking that this rather ordinary Englishwoman was very different from his boss’s usual partners?
But she wasn’t Vito’s partner, was she? More like his lodger. And a temporary one at that, he had made that abundantly clear. As they drove through the busy streets of the city, she snuck a glance at him, all dark and sexy and delicious, jabbering away on his phone in Italian as the car purred past the monuments and as always, her stomach melted. He had turned up at her flat this morning, wearing a charcoal suit which was quite literally traffic-stopping—judging by the two women on the school run whose cars almost collided because they were so busy gawping at him.
She mustn’t get used to living like this or taking these kinds of conveniences for granted, she told herself. The fancy planes and cars were nothing but the transitory benefits of carrying a wealthy man’s child and Vito certainly wasn’t offering anything other than a very brief refuge.
Not marriage, or permanence or any suggestion that he intended to be part of their baby’s life.
And certainly nothing which would come even close to love.
So stop thinking about it, she warned herself fiercely—or rather, stop thinking about him in the romantic sense. Concentrate on giving all your love to this little being inside you. This innocent child who didn’t asked to be conceived. The baby he hasn’t even mentioned since he’d got his way over bringing her here.
Her sister had expressed grave doubts when Flora had finally made her bombshell pregnancy disclosure. Originally cautioning her against putting herself in Vito’s territory, Amy had changed her mind when her sister had confessed to being sick.
‘Well, since there’s nobody else around to do it, you’d better tell Vito Monticello to take good care of you,’ she had announced grimly. ‘Or he’ll have me to deal with!’
Flora would like to have been a fly on the wall to seethathappen. She had bitten back the accusation which was hovering on her lips—that her sister had in some way helped facilitate the inappropriate liaison with her boss with her gift of sexy undies. And she hadn’t even told Amy the whole story—that a strange sense of contentment had crept over her from the moment Vito had stormed back into her life. Because wasn’t there something supremely comforting about having the powerful tycoon take over and look after her? For the first time ever she felt as if she could let someone else do the worrying and that felt like a pretty big deal.
And wasn’t that a crazy thing to be thinking?
‘We’re here,’ Vito announced, sliding his phone back inside his pocket as the car entered an impressive square with an unusual bell-like sculpture at its centre. A careless wave of his hand indicated an impressive-looking modern building towering above them. ‘This is the Piazza San Babila and my home is right here.’
‘Home’ it seemed, was a penthouse apartment which occupied three whole floors.
‘Threefloors?’ Flora verified incredulously.
He nodded.
