Could he read her mind? Her anxiety must be showing.
‘You’ll have full Wi-Fi access,’ Luca continued smoothly, as a boarding ramp was secured between the quay and the powerboat. ‘If you lose signal, we have satellite phones. Why don’t you ring your parents now to reassure them?’
‘My mother’s dead.’ She clapped a hand across her mouth. The words had shot out before she could stop them. ‘I’m so sorry. You must think me thoughtless mentioning something like that.’
‘Why would I? I’m sorry for your loss.’
But he was frowning. ‘And I for yours,’ she said. Luca’s face had grown closed and unreadable again. They had both experienced tragedy, and were both struggling to reclaim some semblance of normality in lives that suddenly made very little sense. The press had disclosed hardly anything about Prince Pietro’s death, beyond describing it as ‘a freak accident,’ which was enough to rouse the curiosity of any investigative journalist, even one supposedly taking a lengthy sabbatical.
‘How did your mother die?’
The shock of the question jolted her back to the present, and she decided to be equally blunt. ‘She took her own life.’ Rather than face the shame of Samia’s father being brought before a judge. The guilt that hit was familiar. Could she have done more to save her mother? And now it was followed by a second thought: Did Luca have a similar demon to wrestle?
‘We both have reason to grieve,’ he observed in a clipped tone.
‘And to go forward.’ Every day she renewed her determination to return to the work she loved. Her fall from grace had been spectacular. One day her column was praised to the skies for its brave exposure of criminals, and the next, when her writing had inexplicably changed, from seeing both sides of an argument to only one, that of her ex, her readers had deserted her in droves. When she’d threatened to make his deception public, he’d promised she’d never work again, and when they’d divorced, he’d vowed to pursue her to the ends of the earth. That was why she’d left London with just the clothes on her back, and her mother’s old hiking boots to keep her grounded. She needed space from evil to stand a chance of climbing back.
‘Hang on. Sit down,’ Luca said as he escorted her onto the powerboat.
Whatever they knew or didn’t know about each other, Luca remained a comforting presence at her side as she took her place at the prow of the boat. To begin with, it was a comfortable ride—the skipper kept strictly to the speed limits—but once they were out at sea and the harbour police were left behind, he opened up the engines and the prow rose out of the water.
They hit a wake. She yelped and bounced onto Luca, who held her firmly, keeping her safe. Close contact was electrifying. He felt so warm, so strong like a rock. His hands were roughened by sailing, but that was another point in his favour. She was done with hands mauling her that had never done an honest day’s work. Far from saving her father when she married her ex, she’d only made matters worse, given him more cause to threaten and bully her. She could only think now that she’d been reeling with grief after the death of her mother. Her father was weak and deep in debt, and she’d had to do something to save him. Her ex would keep him out of prison, he’d promised. Well, that had gone well. Her father was still in jail.
She noticed Luca was looking thoughtful as he read another text on his phone. Trouble? Could she help? She didn’t know him well enough to ask. Did she care for him so much already? Was it even possible for that depth of connection to be instant? Had she already forgotten she had promised herself she’d guard her heart?
Enjoy the moment for what it is, her inner voice advised,and stop worrying about what might happen, let alone what happened in the past. Live for now or you’ll regret it.
Turning her face to the sun, she smiled as the roar of the engines confirmed the distance they were travelling, from the mainland out to sea. It was as if she were flying across the ocean with a strong man at her back. How hard was it to be optimistic?
‘This is amazing!’ she called out, beginning to understand Luca’s passion for sailing. Blue sky and a silver sea bathed in sunlight were nothing short of spectacular. The air was as pure as a new page waiting to be written on. ‘I can’t thank you enough for giving me this opportunity.’
‘You’ll have to work hard,’ Luca warned.
‘I’m ready.’
Was that a flash of calculation in his eyes? She didn’t remain anxious for long. It wasn’t possible with heat rippling through her veins like hot chocolate on a cold afternoon just from being close to Luca. Maybe she should be asking what jobs were available on board, but why spoil the moment when she felt properly alive for the first time in ages? Luca had reminded her how exciting it could be to pit her wits against an intelligent opponent, and offer opinions without constantly being mocked. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt like this.
It was as if he’d read her thoughts. Taking hold of her hand, he stared at the mark left by her wedding ring. Removing her hand, she levelled a stare on his face. ‘You must be wondering why I’m here. I know I am,’ she admitted.
‘You’re escaping,’ he said.
‘Perhaps we both are.’ She noticed he didn’t deny it.
‘Why are you so down on yourself?’ he asked Samia. Beauty was so often marred by high self-esteem, but Samia was completely unspoiled. More of her bright copper hair had escaped her careless updo, while exposure to sunshine and wind from the sea had pinked up her face, adding to the sprinkling of freckles on her nose. She was lovely, and should be full of confidence.
‘I’m not down on myself, but you’re a prince and a billionaire, and I’m no one,’ she said, ‘so why take an interest in me?’
‘No one?Did your ex tell you that?’ He shook his head with contempt. ‘Everyone’s someone, and deserving of equal consideration.’
‘In an ideal world, maybe,’ Samia agreed with a rueful laugh. ‘But not everyone’ssomeoneto the same degree you are.’
‘If you’re talking wealth and titles—’ he spread his arms wide ‘—an accident of birth doesn’t make me better than anyone else. Money? It depends what you do with it, but it’s no guarantee of happiness. It doesn’t make the bad times easier to bear.’
‘I’m sorry.’ She touched his arm sympathetically. ‘I hardly know you, but your loss is so keen I can feel it.’
He blanked the comment. Unburdening himself to a stranger wasn’t his way. What would it change? Nothing.
‘I’m sorry, you must think me intrusive,’ she added quickly, ‘but if I can help in any way—’
