Olivia Gates - One Night In…

Her stomach roiled with nerves; doubt wound tendrils around her heart. She didn’t know what kind of man he was. She wasn’t sure she wanted to find out.

She certainly didn’t want to go to his villa alone, unprotected. Vulnerable.

Unless she could be stronger than that. Unless she could make it work to her advantage. Get through dinner, leave with euros in her pocket and a smile on her face.

Nothing changes the past.

No matter how far you run.

‘One night,’ Meghan clarified.

His lip curled. ‘You want more?’

‘Certainly not,’ she snapped. ‘I’m leaving Spoleto anyway.’

‘Things not to your liking?’

Meghan’s mouth hardened into an unforgiving line, a determination darkening her eyes. ‘It’s time to move on.’

‘Then earn triple the last night you’re here,’ Alessandro suggested smoothly.

Meghan lifted her chin. Her pulse raced, blood rushed in her ears. ‘Maybe I will.’

His eyes fastened on hers, and Meghan saw the hunger in them turning them opaque. She saw expectation, anticipation. Satisfaction. The deep, primal look of a conqueror regarding his spoils.

And she knew that, no matter what Alessandro said, he thought he was getting something more than a waitress for the night.

And was he?

No. For once she would prove who she was. What she was.

And what she wasn’t.

‘Yes, I’ll do it,’ she said, her voice coming out strident. ‘What time do you want me to come? And where?’

‘Villa Tre Querce. It’s five kilometres outside of town. I’ll send a car.’

‘No.’ She didn’t want his car showing up at the grotty hostel she currently called home, and she didn’t want to take anything else from Alessandro di Agnio. ‘I’ll take the bus.’

‘The buses don’t go to Tre Querce,’ Alessandro informed her shortly. ‘I have a car and a driver. Give me your address, and I’ll send him to fetch you at seven o’clock. We’ll dine at eight.’

‘That doesn’t give me much time,’ Meghan protested. ‘It must be six o’clock now.’ Already there was a slight chill in the spring air, descending damply from the mountains, rolling in on a fine mist.

‘All the more reason for me to send the car,’ Alessandro countered, and his tone brooked no opposition. ‘Tell me your address.’

Meghan shrugged. Let him see where she lived. It was dire, she knew that, but who cared?

She didn’t. He certainly didn’t.

‘It’s the Arbus Hostel on the west side of town,’ she informed him coolly. ‘On the Via Campelo.’

His mouth tightened in disapproval. ‘I don’t know it.’

‘You wouldn’t.’

‘My driver will be there at seven.’ He paused, his gaze flicking the length of her, taking in, no doubt, her mussed hair and stained shirt.

‘You have something to wear?’

Her eyebrows lifted in challenge. ‘I’m waitressing, remember? I think I have something suitable.’

‘This isn’t the trattoria,’ Alessandro warned her. ‘I expect you to dress … and behave … appropriately.’

The warning stung. ‘It’s a little late now for second thoughts, isn’t it?’ Meghan said, her smile cautious. ‘You’ve already hired me.’ Her voice turned ragged as she added, ‘I’m not going to show up in nothing but high heels and a frilly apron, even if that’s what you actually want—’

‘Stop it.’ Alessandro’s voice cut across her. ‘I’ve told you what this position entails—waitressing and nothing more. Do you not trust me?’

Meghan dared herself to meet his eyes, to feel the force of their magnetic onslaught. Trust? What a joke. She barely knew him, and even if she did, the only trust she had was in herself, in her ability to protect herself. ‘Is there any reason,’ she asked quietly, ‘why I should trust you?’

Alessandro gazed at her in silent consideration. He shrugged and looked away. ‘No,’ he said after a moment, his voice flat and expressionless, ‘there isn’t.’

Meghan sagged slightly. Of course there wasn’t. She was walking into the lion’s den, and she wasn’t even armed. All she had was her dignity and her determination to prove herself, and right now they didn’t count for much.

‘I’ll see you, then,’ she said after a moment, thankful her voice was steady. She began to turn away, only to have Alessandro reach out. He put his hand on her arm, his fingers wrapping around her wrist, pulling her towards him.

Meghan stiffened with shock and a little fear. Shock at his touching her, the simple, possessive way he drew her to him. Thoughtlessly, and yet with care. As if already he expected something from her, deserved something from her.

The fear was at her own reaction. She didn’t resist. She let him pull her, her legs moved woodenly, helplessly, closer. Her pulse kicked into high gear with the simple touch of those fingers on her wrist, holding her. Gently.

He kept holding onto her, a slight smile playing about his mouth, his eyes raking in her appearance, their gaze a caress … and an assessment.

‘I don’t even know your name.’

Her lips opened soundlessly as her mind spun. ‘Meghan.’

He nodded. He let go of her wrist, smiling as she pulled her arm protectively inwards. ‘I’ll see you at seven.’

Meghan’s legs trembled as she watched him walk away. She shook her head, resisting the urge to wrap her arms more tightly around herself. Had she really agreed to waitress? Why? It should have been so easy to walk away.

Yet it wasn’t, and she hadn’t.

She couldn’t escape her past, she reflected bleakly. The exchange with Alessandro di Agnio reminded her of that. If anything happened tonight it would be nothing more than she deserved.

MEGHAN hurried through the darkening streets of Spoleto towards the Via Campelo and the hostel she’d been calling home.

Not a very pleasant home at that, with its tiny dark bedrooms, dripping ceilings and grimy sheets. She’d seen worse on her travels, but Paulo, the proprietor, was a particularly unpleasant landlord.

Meghan had seen him for what he was right away. First it had just been leering grins and wandering eyes, soon followed by coarser remarks and wandering hands.

She’d bought a padlock for her door, and more than once she’d woken up to hear the stealthy, futile turning of the door handle, weak with relief that she was at least that safe.

Now she tried to avoid him altogether. Still, it was another reason to leave Spoleto. With the money earned from waitressing for di Agnio she could buy a train ticket to her next destination … wherever that was.

‘ Ciao, bellissima. ‘ Paulo leaned over the front desk as Meghan slipped in the door. His white undershirt sported large patches of dried sweat, and his mouth curled in a knowing grin, revealing tobacco-stained teeth.

Meghan didn’t bother to answer. She slipped by before he could reach one hand out to squeeze or pat, and hurried to her room, fastening the padlock.

There was no time for a shower, so she just splashed water on her face and arms from the tiny cracked sink in the corner of the room.

She threw her dirty clothes in the corner and pulled on a fresh white shirt and simple black skirt—her waitressing uniform. She hadn’t brought much with her when she’d left home. It had all been so quick in the end.

Dressed and ready, she sank onto the bed, the broken springs creaking in protest. Her momentary burst of energy spent, she felt weak. Limp. Unreal.

The conversation with Alessandro di Agnio played in her mind, forever on pause and rewind.

Why had she agreed? she asked herself again, and couldn’t come up with a satisfactory answer. At least not one she was willing to face.