Olivia Gates - One Night In…

Meghan stared at him in confusion. ‘Who? Your father’s?’

‘My father is dead.’ He bit out the words. ‘The Signor di Agnio Ana was referring to is my brother. He was married to my sister-in-law, Paula.’

‘Was?’ she repeated uncertainly. ‘Are they divorced?’

‘No, my brother is also dead.’ He paused, his eyes like iron as Meghan stared at him, unsure how to respond. ‘This was his villa,’ Alessandro continued. ‘I use it for business purposes now.’

‘Oh.’ Meghan felt a blush crawl up her throat. ‘I thought …’

‘I know what you thought, gattina.’ Amusement glittered in his cool eyes. ‘You can sheath your little claws, because now you know Ana was just making trouble.’

‘Why would she—?’

He cut her off swiftly, with a chuckle and a shake of his head. ‘Da tutti i san —you insist on thinking the worst of me at every turn! Married! What next?’

‘I couldn’t help it,’ Meghan mumbled. ‘Maybe I misunderstood the Italian …’

‘Oh, really?’ The look he gave her was far too perceptive. ‘Tell me, this relationship you were in? Was the man married?’

Meghan’s mouth was dry, her lips numb. ‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ she finally managed.

He shrugged. ‘Whoever he was, he has a lot to answer for. Now, I’m starving, and there is a full day before us. One without arguments, I hope. Why don’t you get changed into the clothes that do not belong to my wife—a woman who does not yet exist—and meet me in the kitchen?’

The humour lighting his eyes made Meghan smile ruefully. Somehow Alessandro had dispelled the tension that had thrummed between them. She felt light, almost happy.

‘All right,’ she agreed, and hurried upstairs.

Back in the bedroom, Meghan tugged on a pair of designer jeans, a bit loose in the waist, but otherwise fitting her well, and a black cashmere turtleneck sweater. A leather belt fitted snugly around her hips, and she pulled her hair back with a clip.

She glanced in the mirror and was surprised to see her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkling.

She looked like a woman on the brink of adventure. A woman desired.

Instead of the usual plunging fear in her belly at this thought, Meghan felt a warm tingling. A glow.

Smiling to herself, she headed down to the kitchen.

Thankfully Ana had disappeared, leaving them alone at the round pine table set in a comfortable nook overlooking the pool, still covered, and the terrace set with loungers and pots of flowers.

‘It must be beautiful here in the summer,’ Meghan said a bit wistfully, and Alessandro slotted her a thoughtful glance.

‘It is. Now, eat.’

The food set before them was a feast. Meghan hadn’t been overly fond of the Italian breakfasts she’d encountered so far, but set before her now was an array of mouthwatering dishes.

One eyebrow raised, Alessandro handed her a steaming bowl of eggs scrambled with mozzarella and basil. ‘I prefer the full English breakfasts I had at school—done the Italian way, of course.’

‘Of course.’ Meghan helped herself to eggs, fresh orange juice, and toast with apricot preserve. ‘Ana is a good cook,’ she said, after the first few delicious mouthfuls.

‘Who said Ana made it?’ Alessandro challenged, and Meghan stared in surprise.

‘You didn’t…?’

‘No, unfortunately you’re right. I can’t cook—more’s the pity.’ The smile tugging at Alessandro’s mouth turned into a fully-fledged grin that made Meghan’s answering smile die on her lips. Her throat was dry, her heart hammering.

She could not resist this man. Not when he smiled like that, his eyes warm, full of laughter, yet with heat just below the surface, simmering. Ready to blaze.

Meghan swallowed a mouthful of eggs and took a sip of orange juice, grateful to avoid Alessandro’s gaze. He continued eating, and the rest of their breakfast passed with blessed uneventfulness.

‘So,’ Alessandro said a short while later, as he poured her a second cup of coffee, ‘today I want to show you Umbria.’

‘Which part?’ Meghan asked, picking up the thick ceramic mug. The coffee was strong and smelled like heaven. She took a sip. ‘I’ve seen Spoleto, of course, and Assisi.’

‘We can take a driving tour. There are many beautiful sights in Umbria. Villages, mountains. Spoleto is lovely, but there are other hidden treasures. Treasures I want to show you.’

Meghan’s hands tightened around her cup. She couldn’t resist imagining a day out with him, basking in the spring sunshine, revelling in the mountain breeze. Holding hands, laughing over silly jokes. A proper date. Something normal people did. People who liked each other, who fell in love.

‘It sounds lovely.’ She hesitated, the escape clause she’d provided herself with still looming, a hopeless distraction. ‘I still need to get my things.’ Just thinking of Paulo, the hostel, even her haversack, seemed unreal. A different lifetime.

‘I’ve sent for your things,’ Alessandro replied with a dismissive shrug. ‘They’ll be in your room by this afternoon.’

Meghan put down her coffee cup with a clatter. ‘You had no right—’

‘Why must it be about rights? I did what was most convenient.’

‘Convenient for you!’

Alessandro’s eyes glittered. ‘Are you going to fight me on every point? Or shall we enjoy the day together?’

Meghan sagged. He was right. She couldn’t seem to get out of the battle stance—ready to doubt, to question, to attack. ‘I’m sorry. That was … thoughtful of you.’

‘Wasn’t it?’ He beamed at her. ‘You’re learning.’

Meghan gritted her teeth. ‘Don’t push it.’

Alessandro chuckled. ‘I won’t. I know well enough I need to take my time with you.’

It was a beautiful morning—perfect for driving through sun-touched hills—the sky a deep, pure blue, studded with fleecy clouds. The wind was chilly but the sun was warm, and Alessandro rolled down the windows so the breeze ruffled their hair as he drove down the steep, winding road away from Villa Tre Querce.

‘I thought you’d be the kind of man to have a convertible,’ Meghan admitted as they drove.

He glanced at her, his expression unreadable. ‘I’m not quite sure what that says about your opinion of me. But I did have a convertible once.’

‘What happened?’ Meghan teased. ‘You crashed it?’

‘As a matter of fact, I did,’ he replied flatly, staring straight ahead. Meghan opened her mouth to mumble some kind of apology, but the set of Alessandro’s jaw made her close it again.

The day was too beautiful to dwell on anything unpleasant, and Meghan revelled in the sensual pleasure of wind and sun.

They drove for nearly an hour on twisting, narrow roads, up hills and through valleys, villages huddled on the distant mountains, the spire of a church’s tower silhouetted against an azure sky.

At the base of a particularly steep hill Alessandro pulled the car over and killed the engine.

‘Now we walk.’

‘Walk?’ Meghan held one hand over her eyes to shade them from the sun as she squinted up at road ahead of them, twisting steeply upwards into nowhere. ‘What’s up there?’

‘You’ll see.’

She took his hand, warm, dry, strong, liking the way his hand encased hers.

‘Close your eyes.’

‘What?’ She jerked in surprise, withdrawing her hand by instinct, but Alessandro held onto it. His thumb caressed her palm, and Meghan suppressed a shiver, affected by the simple touch. ‘Why should I close my eyes?’ she asked.

‘Just do it.’ Alessandro paused, his eyes dark, intent. ‘Please. Trust me.’

Trust him? Every instinct in her rebelled. She didn’t do trust. Except something deep within her heart, her soul, wanted her to trust this man.