‘Come, you should sleep,’ he said, taking her hand in his and leading her out of the bathroom. ‘We have a long day tomorrow and there is much we must discuss about our plans for the next few months.’
Months?Really?
She’d been informed by Aldo weeks ago that their wedding—such as it was—had been scheduled for the end of the week once they were back in Milan. That was seven days away. But she’d simply assumed once that was done, she would be able to return to Westwick for a while. The first million euro they’d agreed on would be deposited in the Hall’s operating account on their wedding day and she needed to be in Wiltshire to coordinate her plans for the restoration.
But her fuzzy brain couldn’t seem to process those considerations enough to be able to broach the subject, especially when they entered the bedroom.
The rumpled sheets—and the sultry scent of sex hanging in the air—had the fierce colour shooting back into her cheeks. The thought of sharing the bed with him all night was somehow even more disturbing to her peace of mind than the memory of the wild, passionate encounter they’d already shared.
She watched, transfixed, as he discarded his towel. He seemed unconcerned by the strident erection, but she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off it. The pulse of heat between her thighs becoming catastrophic again, even though she hadn’t lied when she’d told him she didn’t think she could manage another round tonight.
He nudged her chin up. ‘You must stop staring at me like that, Tallulah,’ he said the wry amusement making the blush race over her whole body. ‘Or I will find it even more agonising to keep my hands off you tonight.’
‘I—I could sleep on the couch next door, if you like,’ she offered, overwhelmed again.
‘It is a good thing my ego is so robust.’ He chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement, which she suspected might be at her expense.
Had she insulted him by implying he couldn’t control himself? Before she had a chance to process the thought though, or voice an apology, crippled by indecision and awkwardness, he whipped off her towel and drew back the sheet.
‘Climb in,’ he said.
She obeyed without question, grateful for the protection of the bed linens on her naked skin. Instead of joining her, he sat on the bed to tug on his boxers over the still-heavy erection. When he crossed the room and pulled a pair of sweatpants out of his luggage, she felt strangely bereft.
‘You’re…you’re not coming to bed, too?’ she asked as he put on the pants, and she tried not to fixate on the scarring on his injured leg…or the deep well of sympathy making her throat tighten again.
He sent her an enigmatic smile—as he grabbed a T-shirt and pulled it over his head.
‘Not yet,’ he said as he returned to sit next to her on the bed. ‘I must walk off the stiffness in my leg…’
‘Does the injury still hurt?’ she mumbled, swallowing down the dryness in her throat as she recalled the agonising pain he had been in that summer in Wiltshire.
‘Only occasionally,’ he murmured. But she had the feeling she had crossed a line she was not meant to cross, when the wry smile on his lips did not reach his eyes. ‘I am more concerned about the stiffness in other parts of my body, which I must walk off too if I am to keep my promise to you…’
‘Oh…okay,’ she mumbled, aware of the renewed pulsing in her sex at the bold comment.
‘Hold that thought,’ he murmured, apparently able to read her mind.
He cradled her cheek, the possessive gesture as overpowering as everything else about him.
Her heart pummelled her chest wall. And it occurred to her that sleeping with him—a man who knew his way around a woman’s body and had probably had a ton of these types of booty calls before—had put her at a major disadvantage… Because their fake relationship didn’t feel as fake as it should anymore.
He planted a kiss on her forehead. ‘Go to sleep, Tallulah. I will see you in the morning. Once we are back in Milan we will discuss the new terms of our arrangement.’
She nodded again. But her heart got wedged in her throat as he walked out of the room, the hitch in his stride more obvious than usual.
She lay in the big bed, willing her pulse to slow down and trying not to think about what he meant by ‘the new terms of our arrangement’. The scent of their lovemaking permeated the room, stimulating her already hyperaware senses and doing nothing to dissolve the block of concrete which had got lodged in her throat.
But the whirl of the ceiling fan and the dull hum of the wedding DJ’s music—still playing bangers on the other side of the estate—eventually lulled her tired mind and her exhausted body into a deep, drugging sleep.
Chapter Eleven
Two days later
‘…DI AMARTI E ONORARTItutti i giorni della mia vita…’Tali fumbled through the wedding vows in Italian, which she’d had less than forty-eight hours to memorise. She hoped she’d said them correctly. What bothered her more, though, was what they meant.
To love you and every day honour you, for the rest of my life.
Had she really just promised before the officiant and the select gathering of Dario’s friends and business associates in his penthouse apartment to love and honour this taciturn and overwhelming man forever?
