Kate Hardy - The Italians - Rico, Antonio and Giovanni - The Hidden Heart of Rico Rossi / The Moretti Seduction / The Boselli Bride

As if he guessed at her thoughts, he drew her towards him. He kissed her until she forgot what day it was, then brought her to an incredibly intense climax before taking it much more slowly and doing it all over again.

Curled up in bed beside him, her head resting on his shoulder, she asked softly, ‘So are you staying tonight?’

Stay.

Rico was shocked by how much he wanted to take her up on that offer.

But this really wasn’t a good idea. Sex was one thing, but intimacy was quite another. Dangerous. He still didn’t want his heart involved. And she was vulnerable; he was pretty sure that most of her assertions were utter bravado and what she really wanted was a family. Something he’d never be able to give her.

Gently, he disengaged himself from her. ‘Sorry. I’ve skived off all day, so I’ll have a pile of emails waiting for me when I get back to the hotel,’ he said. He knew he was using his business as an excuse, but he didn’t want to hurt her. ‘But I’ll see you tomorrow.’ He smiled to soften his words. ‘My personal tour guide promised me the Changing of the Guard.’

‘Buckingham Palace is nearer you than me, so I’ll meet you at The Fountain,’ she said.

‘Fine. What time?’

‘Is nine o’clock too early?’

‘Nine o’clock is fine. I’ll see you then.’

Ella hid her disappointment that Rico didn’t stay. This was a fling and nothing more. So why did she feel so empty as soon as he was gone …?

On Sunday, Rico was waiting in the reception area of The Fountain when Ella walked in. ‘ Buongiorno , Ella bellezza ,’ he said.

‘Good morning. Are you ready to play tourist?’

‘Absolutely.’ He gave her a wide smile.

They were near enough to walk to the palace from his hotel, and eventually joined the queue of people waiting outside Buckingham Palace. At last, the soldiers in their red tunics and tall bearskin hats marched onto the forecourt outside the palace, and he enjoyed watching the spectacle. Though he had a nasty feeling that, more than that, what he was really enjoying was being with her.

She smiled at him when it was over. ‘So there you have it. One very British tradition.’

‘Nothing like you’d see in Rome. You might get the odd Roman legion and a bunch of senators in the Circus Maximus on a weekend—usually re-enactment groups—but I’ve not seen anything like this before.’

‘I’m glad I’ve shown you something new.’ She laced her fingers through his as the old guard marched away. ‘You showed me the grisly bits of Rome. It’s time I returned the favour—we’ll go and see the Tower of London.’

‘So is this the oldest building in London?’ he asked as they walked inside the complex.

‘Just about,’ she said. ‘Though your Colosseum’s a thousand years older. William the Conqueror started it with the White Tower, and various kings extended the buildings over the years. I remember my mum taking me here when I was small; I was fascinated by the Beefeaters and their hats. And the ravens.’

‘Let’s go and see the ravens,’ he said.

The ravens stalked across a patch of ground by the Wakefield Tower. ‘According to legend, the kingdom and the tower will fall if the ravens fly away, so their wings are clipped to make sure they don’t,’ Ella told him.

‘Poor things. They’re trapped.’ Which was how he’d felt at university. He’d been groomed to take over Rossi Hotels, so he knew that choosing any other career would mean letting his family down; his father was totally useless, and Rico was the only grandchild. The only one who could continue the business. Without him, hundreds of jobs would be at risk, and that wasn’t fair on the staff who’d worked for Rossi Hotels for years.

Yet it wasn’t fair on him, either, to have all his choices taken away. Frustration at being hemmed in had nearly sent him off the rails; and then his best friend had pointed out that, actually, the world was at his feet because he could take the business in any direction he liked and he didn’t have to follow his grandfather’s lead.

Which was precisely why his next hotel was going to be in London rather than in Italy. He was in charge, and he was putting his stamp on the firm. And this deal was going to be a lot bigger than the last one he’d made. He was branching out, in more ways than one—and he already knew his grandfather had reservations about it. Well, tough. Rico didn’t have reservations. He was going to make this work. And then maybe his grandfather would be forced to admit that Rico was doing just fine.

‘The ravens’ wings are almost the same colour as your hair,’ she said, ruffling it.

He caught her round the waist, spun her round and kissed her; she was pink and laughing by the time he’d finished.

‘Now, now. You’re not supposed to distract the tour guide,’ she scolded, but she was laughing as she spoke.

‘How long is it since you’ve been here?’ he asked.

‘I’m not sure. Years. But I loved it as a child. The crown jewels, Henry VIII’s armour …’

‘What’s the significance of the polar bear?’ Rico asked, gesturing to the sculpture.

‘There used to be a menagerie here. Actually, there’s sort of a Roman connection, because the Holy Roman Emperor Frederick II sent Henry III three leopards when Henry married Frederick’s sister Eleanor. It really snowballed from there; the King of Norway sent Henry a polar bear.’ She smiled. ‘My mum told me how the bear was kept on a long leash so he could swim in the Thames and catch fish. And then the King of France sent Henry an elephant. Apparently it came up the Thames by boat. Mum and I made up a song together about elephants in the tower, but I can’t remember how it goes now.’

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