‘You’re a revelation,tesoro.’
‘I’m just me. What you see is what you get.’
‘You’re an enigma and a mystery. You know about me and yet I know so little about you.’
Her soft grey gaze left him, to where her left hand toyed with the sheet as if wanting to wrap it more tightly round herself. She shrugged.
‘You’re the interesting one. The one whose story regularly makes the press.’
‘Yes, I’m a legend in my own lifetime,’ he said. ‘Such an achievement. Whereas you… I said that one day I’d ask questions. Today is that day.’
‘So early in the morning when there are more interesting things we could be doing…’
She arched her back. Simone was in avoidance but her display wasn’t contrived. Her nipples peaked in perfect, dusky points. Tight with desire. She was temptation incarnate. He could immerse himself in the pleasure of her body for hours on end and never be sated.
Yet, that didn’t seem like enough. Not now. He wanted toknowher. Not simply as his efficient, insightful personal assistant, convenient wife and now, lover. He wanted to share thoughts,feelings.
‘Questions now, distractions later,’ he said.
She pouted, but he could see the skin puckering at the side of her mouth where she was worrying the flesh with her teeth.
‘Then I need coffee.’
‘I’m happy to oblige you.’
Leo left the bed and as he did so he could almost feel Simone’s eyes on him, as palpable as her fingers digging into skin. There were no staff in the house this early and the grounds were private so there was no need for him to dress. Leo strolled to the door of their room. If she liked what she saw, then he’d give her a show. He walked to the kitchens and set about what he’d always found to be the relaxing routine of making coffee. Espresso for him, caffè latte for her. Since she believed she needed a little fortifying he hunted through the cupboards and found some hazelnut syrup, adding a dash to her drink. He placed both cups on a tray and then carried them back to their room.
Leo couldn’t imagine what Simone might have to tell him. Did she believe he’d judge her? After his own past, he was in no position to condemn anyone else, although she didn’t know that. Some things, about himself at least, there was no need to disclose. Nothing she’d done would have been worse than his own youthful actions, of that he could be assured. As he walked back into the room Simone was sitting up in bed. Her hair was neater, as if she’d brushed it. She was wearing his shirt, the one torn away and discarded in passion the night before. A rush of heat flooded over him, possession, at the sight of her in a piece of his clothing. The way it swamped her. Made her look somehow small, fragile. In that moment, he didn’t want to talk. He wanted to scoop her into his arms and hold her. Tell her it would all be okay, even if he didn’t know what the problem was. As he came into the room her grey eyes became stormy, darkened. Not too fragile for desire then, which was good. He could work with that.
‘Like what you see?’
Her gaze drifting over his naked body, fixing at his groin. In a moment he was half hard. Simone did that to him. If he didn’t constantly wrestle his own desire under control when she was around, he’d never get any work done.
‘A tray of coffee? Yes.’
He chuckled. If he was another kind of man, that comment might have cut him off at the knees, the way she said it. Dry as ancient dust.
‘Don’t prefer the look of anything else?’
‘Mr Zanetti, I do believe you’re fishing for compliments.’ The corners of her mouth quirked as if she was trying very hard to suppress a smile.
‘I don’t need any, given you orgasmed into near unconsciousness last night. I feel none are required.’
She raised a slender, pale brow. ‘I might suggest that you were similarly affected, but unlike you, I wouldn’t like to brag.’
He chuckled, loving how Simone tried to put him in his place, even if right now it was only for show. She’d always had a way of keeping him grounded, reminding him that he was simply a man and not the ridiculously titled Sultan of Style as the press proclaimed. He placed the tray of coffee on his bedside table and propped up his own pillows. Slid under the covers and then handed Simone her coffee, taking his own and finishing it in a few short mouthfuls.
Simone looked to be savouring hers, eyes fluttering shut at the taste. Her throat dipped softly in a swallow and she took another almost as if fortifying herself. Her chest rose and fell in a deep breath, then she opened her eyes, her jaw seeming hard, as if she was somehow resolved. She placed her cup down.
‘Thank you. The hazelnut was a lovely touch.’
‘Prego. This isn’t your last meal, Simone.’
She snorted. ‘There are things I don’t talk about much.’
‘Like why nobody visited you at the hospital after your accident.’
‘Holly can’t travel right now, which she told you. And you know the rest of my family and I are estranged. You of all people should understand what that’s like.’
