It had felt like a small win for her world over his. But, she fleetingly thought, how long would that last?
It had taken a little longer than the original twenty-four hours planned for Ella to head to London. Important meetings had demanded Rocco’s absence from the country, so it was five days after they had agreed the visit, at a little after six in the evening, that Ella stood in front of an impressive Regency house, one of about twenty that formed an imposing crescent that curved in a semi-circle around a private, gated park manicured to within an inch of its life.
The houses were fronted with perfectly symmetrical cream columns. Even the lamp posts outside every three houses appeared to stand to attention, respectful of their grand surroundings. There wasn’t a Christmas tree in sight, and certainly no inflatable Santas on sleds gaily announcing from the tops of the buildings that it was the festive season. Therewerewreaths on the doors, however, with lush foliage and just the right shades of metallic accents to contrast nicely against the highly polished black front doors.
It was hard to marry the man who had joked around with her dad and been intrigued at the kids singing carols with the man who lived behind that imposing door. It was deathly quiet. The cars parked outside were eye-wateringly high-end—cars that belonged to people who also had private jets and helicopters at their disposal.
Ella pressed the doorbell and, before she could remove her finger from the buzzer, the door opened and there he was, standing in front of her, and her heart leapt.
It was freezing outside but he was in a pair of loose, black jogging bottoms and a tee-shirt. Apparently it was summer in Belgravia, even if it was the middle of December everywhere else.
‘Ella…’
Rocco smiled and stood aside so that she could brush past him, pulling a small case on wheels behind her. She smelled of a fragrant scent which, he suspected, was nothing more than the smell of her shampoo. He was ridiculously pleased to see her because, even though it had only been a matter of days since he’d returned to London, only to jet off immediately to New York, she’d been on his mind. He’d missed her and he put that down to the fact that they were on a completely different footing now. Naturally she would be on his mind because their relationship had undergone a seismic change. Plus, their love-making had been…sensational.
‘I still think you should have let my driver bring you to London,’ he said without preamble as she moved gracefully into his house and looked around her with an expression he couldn’t quite read.
‘This is an amazing place.’ She turned full-circle and then crooked her head at one of his paintings. ‘Is that a real Hockney on the wall?’
‘All the artwork in here is the real deal.’
Rocco went to relieve her of her coat and noticed she was wearing a million layers underneath. He itched to get them all off. However, he’d had time to think, and he was going to play it cool. Attraction or no attraction, this was first and foremost an arrangement that made sense and not a searing tale of high romance. He didn’t want her getting the wrong impression. He didn’t want her expectations to be built to levels he wouldn’t be able to meet.
He didn’t want her falling in love with him.
Of course, she wouldn’t do that, not when she was coming from a place of mistrust because of the circumstances under which they had met. Not when he’d had to convince her to marry him. Not when she had been through disillusionment with a partner and was wary of emotional involvement with the wrong guy.
But still… Right now she was independent, and wanted nothing from him beyond what he had put on the table, but that wasright now. He didn’t want her investing in him emotionally as time moved on. He didn’t want her to become the sort of clingy, demanding wife who expected shows of devotion and was disappointed if they failed to materialise. He didn’t have it in him to be that sort of man, even if he could fill in the blanks in all the other areas that mattered, and he knew it would be a fine line between disappointment and eventually filing for divorce.
So he would play it cool. Even though, right now, as he looked at her turn full circle in his vast hallway, he was anything but cool. In fact, he had never felt hotter.
‘You should shed the layers, Ella. I keep this place well heated in winter.’
‘So I notice. I never asked, but you must have been freezing when you stayed the night. There’s always been a strict policy at home of layering up in winter because only namby-pambies rely on central heating twenty-four seven to keep warm.’
‘I incline to the policy that there’s no point freezing to death to prove a point. By the way, I hope you don’t think I’m anamby-pamby…’
Ella reddened. ‘Youshouldbe,’ she said truthfully and reddened a little more when he strolled towards her with a wolfish, curling smile.
‘I’m one of a kind,’ he murmured, sliding his fingers into her hair and cupping her face. ‘Haven’t you realised that by now?’
Desire surged and memories of how she had felt against him, pregnant and naked, filled him up until he was drowning in the need to bury himself in her. He breathed in deeply and pulled back to a place of self-control.
‘Want me to give you the guided tour? Or can that wait? You must be tired after your journey.’
‘I guess the guided tour can wait and I’m not tired. The train was very comfortable. It’s a novelty to travel first class.’
‘You make me want to show you all the things that money can buy,’ he confessed in a roughened undertone and she burst out laughing.
‘You’re so shallow, Rocco Mancini. How did you ever cope with being Jose Rivero?’
‘Women are impressed with what money can buy.’
‘Well, to parrot what you’ve just said,I’m one of a kind.’
She was, and he was pleased and satisfied that maybe the gap between the man he was and the man he’d pretended to be was closing. She was smiling at him, and for a few seconds he was deprived of speech. ‘I’ve ordered in food—French. I hope that’s fine with you?’
‘Lovely.’
