And then it was over as she stepped back, trembling and wide-eyed. ‘Thank you for a lovely night. I don’t think...I mean, my friends will be looking for me.’
It took a few moments for her words to penetrate his fogged-up brain. All he wanted was to pull her back in, take her mouth again, hold her still. Marco inhaled, long and deep, pushing the dangerous desire deep down where it belonged.
‘It was my pleasure. I am glad I got to meet you again, signorina.’ He took her hand, bowing formally over it, then stepped back, a final farewell. She hesitated for the briefest of seconds and then, with a quick smile, turned away.
A pleasant interlude and now it was over as all these interludes eventually were. Unless...
Tomorrow he returned home. Returned to a wedding, to play a part, to the weight of parental expectations, no less heavy with the loss of his father. Returned to guilt.
He could do with a distraction.
Sophie obviously wasn’t looking for any kind of relationship; in fact this was the third time she’d walked away from him without a backwards glance. A wry smile curved his mouth; thank goodness her response to his kiss had been so all encompassing or he’d be wondering if the attraction was one-sided. And she had never seen Venice...
She would make the perfect distraction, for himself and for his family.
Marco didn’t want to take any more time to think his idea through, not when Sophie was disappearing into the revelling crowd. ‘Sophie?’ She stopped and turned, a confused expression on her face.
He crossed the distance between them with a few long strides. ‘My mother will be holding her annual party on the sixth of January, for Epiphany. I have to be there, to co-host, in place of my father. Would you like to be my guest?’
The confusion deepened. ‘Me? Come to Venice? But...’
‘You said yourself how much you want to go.’
‘Yes.’ She looked tempted for a moment, then frowned again. ‘But, Marco, I hardly know you. You don’t know me and I’m not really looking for anything, for anyone. I like you, I like spending time with you...’
‘And I like spending time with you and I really would like to get to know you better. And that’s all this is, Sophie. A couple of days in Venice, a party and then we go our separate ways. What do you say?’
* * *
‘Of course you should say yes.’ The ball might officially be over for another year, but the evening was far from finished yet—after all, as Emma pointed out, they hadn’t properly celebrated Grace’s engagement yet—and so they had all piled into taxis and gone back to The Armstrong, the hotel Finlay owned and where the newly engaged couple had met, to finish welcoming the new year in in style. It was a novel experience for Sophie to be escorted up to the exclusive suite as a guest, not a maid, and to sink onto one of the comfortable sofas, the room-service menu at her disposal and the promise of a car to take her home.
A novel experience for Sophie, but all her friends seemed to take this level of luxury almost for granted; even Grace stepped into the private lift as if it were an everyday occurrence for her. And now it was. Grace, just like Ashleigh and Emma, was marrying into some serious wealth.
This evening, lovely as it was, was exposing the very clear differences in Sophie’s future and the paths her friends were headed down—and made her even more determined to shape hers the way she had always intended it to be. This year she’d put some serious effort into the website she’d recently set up and start trying to sell her designs. She clenched her hands at the familiar twist of excitement and fear. What if Harry was right? What if she was wasting her time?
Grace plumped down onto the sofa opposite, heaving her bare feet onto the glass coffee table with a sigh of relief. ‘I agree. Go, have fun. It’s always quiet at work at this time of year—and we’ve been run off our feet for months. Take some time off. You deserve it.’
‘I’ll lend you the fare if you need it. Consider it an early birthday present.’ Ashleigh seated herself next to Sophie and nudged her. ‘Venice, Soph. You’ve always wanted to go.’
‘Marco offered to pay for my ticket. No, don’t look so excited. He has loads of air miles from his work. It’s not a big deal.’ Actually it was. Sophie didn’t want to admit how much his casual ‘I’ll cover all expenses, it’s the least I can do, you’ll be far more of a help than you realise’ had touched her. Harry had not only always expected Sophie to pay her way but frequently his as well. He was a musician after all, above mundane worldly tasks like making a living. ‘It’s just, I hardly know him.’