Page 67 of My Fake Italian Marriage

She turned her choke into a cough. “We didn’t take any,” she managed.

Dario looked aghast. “Not even a selfie?” Then he smiled. “Not to worry. We can re-enact them some time. Until then, do you think Giovanni and Letizia would let us have a photographer at their anniversary party? We could share those on social media instead.”

She thought of the display of photographs on top of the piano. Maybe she could give them a framed photograph as a parting gift, to add to the collection. She had to swallow to speak again, but her voice still sounded croaky. “I’m sure they’d love that. Will you set it up?”

He nodded, leaping from the chair, then pausing, a concerned look in his eyes. “Would you like me to fetch you a glass of water? You sound—”

She waved him off. “I’m fine.”

Or at least she would be. When she got over the fact that soon they’d be doing all this without her. Planning social media, fulfilling the orders that were placed at Lario, bringing in the next harvest…

Fleetingly, she considered Luca’s job proposal, and just as quickly shut it down. She needed much more than the offer of a job to uproot her life and move countries. And more than the offer of a few more weeks.

The familiar sound of the Ferrari in the yard sent a shot of electric anticipation through her. She straightened, pulse racing. An amused chuckle drew her attention to the doorway. She’d forgotten Dario was still there. “I assume that’s Luca back from Siena?” he said. “You look as if you haven’t seen him for days, instead of a few hours.”

She tried to scowl, but wasn’t entirely successful, and he laughed as he headed back to his own office. Sure, Luca had only been gone half a day, to meet with the factory that manufactured their packaging, but that was the longest they’d been apart since … she screwed up her face as she tried to think. They hadn’t spent even as much as half a day apart since their trip to Lake Como. Not that she was missing him or anything… It was just that their time left together was so short.

Again, footsteps echoed in the corridor, this time a longer, steadier tread. She smiled as Luca stepped into the office.

Men like Luca Fioravanti should come with a health warning: possible side-effects include difficulty breathing, heart arrhythmia and the inability to think straight. Especially when said man was dressed in a suit that had clearly been tailored to fit him. His broad shoulders filled the charcoal-grey jacket, and the trousers moulded to his thighs in a way that made her salivate. She didn’t even need to close her eyes to imagine those legs naked, the dusting of dark hair against the tanned skin—

Okay, she needed to stop lying to herself. She had missed him.

And she was falling for him. Like the proverbial ton of bricks.

He strode across the room, dimple winking as he smiled. “I have a gift for you.” He retrieved a wrapped parcel from his jacket. “I saw it and thought of you.”

Distracted from the carnal path her thoughts had wandered down, she unwrapped the layers of dull gold tissue paper to reveal the parcel’s contents: a midnight blue, silk-and-lace set of camisole and French knickers. Just as well Dario hadn’t hung around.

“They’re beautiful,” she breathed, running a hand over the fabric, “and so soft.”

“Youare beautiful.” Luca’s voice was husky. And there she was thinking he couldn’t get any sexier.

He leaned in, brushing a kiss across her lips. “I cannot wait to take you out of them tonight. That will bemygift.”

She cleared her throat, blinking away the lust-filled haze. “You’re going to have to be patient, I’m afraid. We’ve been invited to Castel Sant’Angelo for dinner.”

He groaned and dropped his head onto her shoulder. “Do we have to?”

“Yes, we do.” She drew in a hesitant breath. “Sarah has known me for a very long time. She’ll know that we…”

“She will know that we are lovers now?” he finished for her, nuzzling her neck.

Cleo dropped her head back, eyes closed.

“You should be happy that we can spend a whole evening with other people and not have to pretend to be anything we’re not.” He trailed kisses along her jaw, stopping at the corner of her mouth.

“I am, but…” But what were they? The lines had blurred so much she was no longer sure what they were any more.

Luca didn’t ask her what that “but” was, and when he pressed his lips to hers, turning her words into a whimper of pleasure, she forgot all about it.

* * *

Cleo was under no illusions. This was more than a friendly dinner. Something in Sarah’s too-chirpy voice on the phone made her suspect her friend had an ulterior motive for inviting them to dinner. Was she looking for gossip, or checking on Cleo?

They drove up the newly graded avenue, striped with the long shadows of Cypress trees, to the renovatedcastello. Luca parked on the gravel circle in front of the main entrance, and hurried to open Cleo’s door.

“There’s nothing to be nervous about.” She squeezed his fingers reassuringly. “Sarah doesn’t bite.”

---