“But I am. I’m twenty years older.”
“True. So why are you so emotionally stunted?”
I don’t take the bait and instead, eat my breakfast. “We should do something together today.”
“Like what? You want nothing to do with me and I want nothing to do with you.”
“It would be good for us to get out today. Explore the city. Your father wants this marriage to work for the sake of our alliance. We can at least be cordial to each other.”
“But I don’t want to be cordial to you. That’s the thing.”
“We don’t have to talk. Do you really want to sit inside all day?”
“No,” she grumbles.
“Good. Then we’re going out.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.” I sigh. It’s going to be a long fucking day.
Ciara
Marco’s body is distracting on the drive into the city. I keep looking at his hands on the steering wheel, knowing his finger had been inside my body last night. No one has ever touched me so intimately before. I want it again. I’m desperate for it.
My legs press together to stop the arousal from hitting me. I can’t stand Marco and yet, I want him to touch me again. I want to feel close to him despite everything that has happened between us.
But he’s not budging and it’s driving me crazy.
He parks the car and we get out to walk. The blazing Roman sun is hitting my back, making me feel even hotter than I already felt. We meander around the city, going to all of the typical tourist areas. The Colosseum. The Trevi Fountain. It’s all beautiful and exciting… or it would be if I was with a man who wanted to be with me.
I toss a coin into the fountain and that’s when an idea hits me. Marco got angry last night when another man touched me. That must have made him lose control. Maybe if I flirt with another man, Marco will get so angry that he’ll want to touch me again. It’s the only play I have.
But the Trevi Fountain is surrounded with too many people. Too many eyes. Too many couples. That won’t work here. I need a place that’s more private.
“Why don’t we go in there?” I ask, nodding at a nearby restaurant. “I’m hungry.”
“Right. Let’s eat.”
We settle in at a table inside the restaurant to escape the heat. The waiter who takes our orders ends up being cute. Young with curly brown hair. Around my age. Perfect.
“What’s the best thing here?” I ask him, batting my eye lashes. The waiter takes the bait.
“The pasta alla norma. It’s our best dish.”
“Where is it on my menu?” I hold it closer to him and he leans in and points at it. I make an effort to brush my fingers against his. The waiter’s smile deepens.
“How are you enjoying Rome?”
“How can you tell I’m a tourist?”
“Because of your accent.”
“Right. That would make sense.” I laugh in a higher tone than usual. “Where are the best places to visit? I’m all alone here.”
The waiter looks at Marco with a confused frown. “But aren’t you here with your father?”
Marco scowls. “I am not her father.”
