* * *
Benedetto did not want to admit to himself how much his day was dragging by. He paced to the other side of the concrete floor, staring out at the sprawling view of Rome beneath him. In the distance, if he squinted, he could see the area she lived in. Low urban sprawl earmarked by billboards atop buildings topped with red terracotta tiled roofs.
On one of the floors below, the jackhammer fired up again, adding to the cacophony of urban sounds that constantly filled Rome.
“The delay is inevitable,” Luigi Santoro spoke slowly, his expression grim. “The artefacts are valuable, and they are precisely where the drain was to be laid.”
Had she dreamed of him? Had she dreamed of the Villa? Had she woken up smiling, imagining the day they would share amongst the quince and olive trees, only to realize that they had come back to earth?
“The city has sent their top advisor to inspect the site; we will know by this evening where an alternative drain can be placed.”
Benedetto had thought of her all night. He’d lain in bed, wondering about her in that tiny, ice-box of a bedroom. He’d lain there wondering how a girl born to a man such as Beauchamp could end up in such humble surrounds. And he’d realized that none of what he knew about Kate made any sense.
She had gone to one of the most plum public schools in England. She’d been accepted into a top university. She’d been given an apartment in Chelsea. Certainly the photos he’d seen of her had shown a woman with an air of entitlement that perfectly fit the model of what he’d expected.
So why was she living in what could generously be described as a shanty building in the heart of a downtown slum? No amount of crisp white bed linen and beautiful flowers could change the fact that her apartment was woefully unsuitable for her.
“Ben?”
“Yeah.” He snapped his head around to face his long-term employee. “Sure as hell wouldn’t happen in Dubai, eh?”
“No artefacts where we’re building in Dubai,” Luigi grinned.
Benedetto nodded slowly, but he was already drifting back into his real problem. “Listen, I need a couple of men to do some minor work on an apartment downtown. You can spare them?”
“Of course. It’s not like they’re doing anything here until this is sorted out anyhow. What kind of work?” But Benedetto was already moving away, formulating a plan that might get him exactly what he wanted. “Ben?”
Benedetto, though, was gone.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The stupid milk had a hole in the carton. Only a small one, because Kate hadn’t realized until she was three blocks from the market. By then, enough milk had leaked out that it had weakened the paper of the bag, bursting a hole in the base sending three eggs and a lovely fennel bulb onto the footpath. The eggs had cracked and the fennel landed in something suspiciously moist but she’d put it back into the bag and gripped it underneath. Her arms ached by the time she reached the front door to her apartment building.
It was propped open, which wasn’t unusual on Monday nights. Signora Verdi from the upstairs flat had her grandchildren every Monday evening while their parents caught up for a child-free dinner. The noise was always loud in Kate’s apartment – the sounds of dozens of feet scampering in the cramped space, laughing and fighting, and playing for hours and hours. Kate loved it. She would listen and imagine how different her own childhood might have been with a little more noise and frivolity.
When she reached her apartment though, a sense of fear began to tremble in her gut. She couldn’t have said what provoked it, but her instincts were going haywire. Her heart was pounding as she shifted so that she could lift her phone from her handbag and juggle it in one hand whilst still keeping a tight hold of the groceries. She dialed her boss’s number out of desperation – Melania was ill with tonsillitis but she was still the best person to go to in a crisis. Well, except for … she swallowed. Benedetto.
Did she even have his number? With surprise, she realized she didn’t. Which meant she had no way of contacting him, even if she wanted to.
Her fingers shook a little as she slid the key into the lock.
All day she’d had the strangest sense that something bad was about to happen. And all day she’d told herself that she was overreacting. That her emotions and nerve endings were supercharged. Nothing else.
But now, some ancient source of adrenalin had kicked up a gear.
She took in a deep breath and then pushed the door inwards, her whole body coiled for action. Her eyes scanned the room quickly. Everything was different, and yet somehow the same. The lamps had been switched on in the lounge area, casting the room in a soft, warm glow, and another bunch of flowers had been added to the coffee table. No, not flowers. They were blossoms. Orange blossoms, she’d have guessed, from where she stood.
And there was a beautiful smell that had nothing to do with flora. It was food. Something savoury and delicious that made her stomach grumble. Kate hadn’t eaten all day. The errant thought broke through her confused mind; she shook her head to dispel it and took another step into the apartment.
Benedetto was in her kitchen, his business shirt pushed up to the elbows, and the tie removed from his neck. He looked dangerously dark and wickedly sexy, with his hair flopped a little over his forehead and his dark eyes meeting hers broodingly.
Kate stared at him as she placed the sodden bag of groceries onto the bench. Her mouth was dry and her tongue thick.
“What …” she swallowed. “What are you doing here?”
He reached into the fridge and pulled a bottle of wine out. He poured some into a glass and handed it to her.
She didn’t move to take it; he placed it onto the bench.
