Page 205 of Modern Romance Collection December 2024 Books 5-8

But for him, sex was an end in itself. It might happen more than once. It usually did, he conceded. And then afterwards, he got up, ostensibly to shower because showering gave him a reason to get out of bed, then got dressed and left because staying over could suggest, not unreasonably, a desire to take things to the next level and he had never wanted to do that. Never wanted there to be any confusion about the kind of relationship he was offering, which was mutually satisfying but always impermanent. Sharing breakfast with a woman would simply be a humbling reminder of the mistake he’d made, the risk he’d taken. So, breakfastà deuxwas never an option.

His eyes moved to the woman beside him. But of course, Sydney was different. Hehadto eat with her so it didn’t count. And anyway, it wasn’t real. This was role-play with the added benefit that he was not just starring in but directing the production. This was nothing like one of his father’s affairs, because there was absolutely no risk whatsoever that he would end up marrying her.

‘You must have been to Vegas.’ Every second person at the test plant in California seemed to have visited Sin City, either for stag or hen dos or as a consolation prize after a messy divorce.

‘Vegas?’ Something flickered across her face, an expression he couldn’t quite place. She cleared her throat. ‘Yes, I went there once.’

She glanced past his shoulder almost as if she was bored by the conversation, which was another new sensation for him. Or at least one that he couldn’t remember happening since first grade.

Sydney felt everything inside her tip and roll sideways as if she were a capsizing boat. A shiver ran over her skin.

She had been to Las Vegas once, but she never allowed herself to think about it. Not because what happened in Vegas, stayed in Vegas. But because who would want to remember the place where they made the biggest mistake of their life?

It was hard to remember it now. So much time had passed. Mostly, though, it hurt to remember the girl she’d been back then. Younger, yes, but also full of hope for a future that would be different from the kind of life all other Truitts in living memory had led. She would have a husband with a steady job. A partner with principles and a clarity of purpose.

Her fingers pressed against the smooth, pale, puckered skin on her arm. Unfortunately, his purpose had not been to cherish and honour her but to ‘correct’ her deficiencies. It had taken a month after their wedding before he’d had his first meltdown and thrown his plate across the kitchen because she’d put condiments on the table.

She felt Tiger’s steady gaze on her face and realised that she had no idea how much time had passed since she had spoken or even if he had replied.

Fortunately, Carole returned at that moment to serve their food and she was able to legitimately turn away from him.

The rest of the flight passed surprisingly quickly. She had been slightly concerned that Tiger would want to keep on sharpening his claws on her, but, perhaps because he had eaten, he merely made a profuse and completely insincere apology and then opened his laptop and worked for the rest of the flight.

He worked hard. Harris Carver was right about that. Although that didn’t absolve him of all his rule-breaking and entitlement.

Still, it was a relief not to be the focus of that dark gold gaze that saw things she needed to keep hidden. Instead, she watched a film, read some of her book and wondered after roughly every third page how his ‘real’ girlfriends put up with being treated in such a cavalier fashion.

Money probably. But then she was only doing this because she needed something from him too. So how was she different from them?

Nibbling her thumbnail, she listed off all the ways she could think of. Firstly, there was no actual relationship. No trust. No history. No hopes. They didn’t even like each other and obviously there was no intimacy.

Her pulse stalled, her memory rewinding like a car spinning on black ice to that moment in his office when she’d almost kissed him.

She hadn’t forgotten it. She had tried to, of course, but it seemed to have burned itself into her brain. Thankfully, it was probably a common enough occurrence for Tiger to have dismissed it from his mind but, glancing up, she felt a different shiver scamper through her body. Instead of looking at the laptop screen, he was staring at her in that intent way of his, his pupils flickering. Was he remembering it too?

It didn’t matter one way or the other, she told herself firmly.

She couldn’t change the past. She knew that better than anyone. But you could choose how to live your life, make decisions about which risks were worth taking and which would be avoided, and kissing Tiger fell unequivocally in the second category.

An hour later, the jet landed with barely a shudder on the runway at the private airfield on the Italian mainland.

There was a car waiting for them on the runway and she knew there was a bridge across the lagoon so she had assumed that they would drive into the city but, after twenty minutes, the driver turned off the main road and she saw the shimmer of water.

‘What’s happening?’

Tiger glanced over at her. ‘We’re swapping onto a boat.’

As explanations went it was minimal but there was no time to question him further. The car had already come to a stop, and now the driver was opening the door. It was a short walk to a covered jetty and then Tiger was helping her into a glossy, wooden speedboat.

He sat down beside her, letting his leg graze against hers in a way that was without doubt deliberate, but she was tired now. It had been a long day and the air was cool and his thigh was warm so she could reasonably allow herself to stay where she was. Leaning back against the plush leather upholstery, she watched eagerly for her first glimpse of Venice.

All she knew about the city was from the movies and it felt odd seeing a place so familiar for the first time rising out of the water. But even at night and at a distance it was mesmerisingly beautiful.

‘Come si sente suo cugino, Angelo? Ben preparato, spero?’

She blinked as Tiger leaned forward and began speaking fast, fluent Italian to the driver. He caught sight of her expression, and his mouth curved up at one corner.

‘His cousin is taking part in thegondolinorace this year. I was just asking him if he was feeling ready.’

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