Page 28 of The Sicilian’s Deal For 'I Do'

He didn’t respond immediately. ‘There’s no need. My life is just how I like it.’

She nodded, because of course that was true. Just because Mia would find his type of intimacy hollowing, didn’t mean he felt the same way.

They were different creatures, and it barely seemed to matter, because after this week, they’d cease to know one another at all.

Mia slept late the next day, which was hardly a surprise, given that she hadn’t actually fallen asleep until well into the early hours of the morning.

Their agreement had unleashed something within them—a new sense of urgency, because they’d defined what they were and delineated how long they’d be this for. Both knew an end point was looming and seemed determined not to waste a moment.

It was exhaustion that had finally drawn Mia into sleep, when her eyes had grown too heavy and her body, her over-sensitised body, had felt unnaturally heavy, and Luca had gently pulled her to his chest, one big, strong arm clamped around her shoulders, and held her there, so the last thing she was aware of as she fell asleep was the beating of his heart.

He swam from one side of the cove to the other, as he did most mornings while at the villa, the workout and seawater a perfect way to energise his body for the day ahead. Usually, he then had a light breakfast and went to work in his study, so he could have been anywhere in the world—his Milan office, New York, Singapore, Sydney. They all had the same décor, the same equipment, to avoid the jarring sense of being out of routine.

But he didn’t feel like working today.

He wanted Mia.

He swam harder, anger fuelling his strokes because he’d spent hours pleasuring her and surrendering to the pleasure she gave last night and it was almost unnatural that his body should still yearn for her with this blinding intensity, and yet it was all he could think of, all he wanted.

Mia was an anchor, drawing on him, even as he swam. In line with the house, he stopped, stood against the sandy bottom of the ocean with hands on his hips and stared at the building, trying to picture her, wondering what she was doing, imagining her naked body, those beautiful curves against the black silk of his sheets, her honey-coloured limbs tangled in the fabric, her hands wandering, exploring, touching herself because she’d awoken hungry for him, too.

Grinding his teeth, he began to stride from the ocean, intent on reaching the house by the shortest means available and, as quickly as possible thereafter, Mia. In the back of his mind, he had a virtual whiteboard and on it was written, in big red letters, six more nights.

He had no intention of wasting them.

The boat was everything she might have expected someone like Luca to possess—luxurious, fast, glistening white and chrome with very black windows and a sleek frame, and he drove the thing with expert ease, wearing just a pair of navy-blue shorts, so Mia found herself trying to focus on the beautiful coastline and, instead, unable to tear her eyes from his body.

Strange how these waters had once been a place of deep self-loathing and dread for Mia, and now, as Luca navigated through them, she felt an unbending need to ask him to stop the boat and let her off, to dive deep beneath the calm, crystalline surface, to be engulfed by this bay, its healing powers making her see herself as Luca claimed to. To feel truly beautiful. To erase all of the insults her mother had gently and cleverly woven into Mia’s being, over all the years of her life.

They were far from land, far enough that she could see it as a postcard, all the tiny homes and the streets that lined the seafront, with their brightly coloured shops, restaurants with umbrellas, gelaterias bustling with queues of people in this midday heat. She sighed, reclined on her bed and reached for the lemon water Luca had brought her, a half-smile on her lips.

‘You’re lost in thought.’

Her eyes flicked to his. ‘I suppose I am.’

‘About?’ There was a seriousness to his voice, as though he wasn’t sure he’d like the answer.

She turned back to the water, the stunning turquoise ocean, and ran her fingers lightly over the arm of her daybed. ‘I was reflecting on how different it is being back here with you, from when I used to come as a girl. I mean, obviously it’s different.’ Her cheeks blushed. ‘But how I feel... I feel...happy.’

He frowned. ‘You weren’t happy then?’

Her lips pulled to the side. ‘I thought you didn’t do serious conversations.’

He hesitated a moment. ‘Would you prefer not to talk about it?’

She laughed softly. ‘I don’t want to drag you into unfamiliar waters,’ she said with a shake of her head. ‘Forget it. It doesn’t matter.’

Silence fell between them, and Mia presumed the conversation was closed, but then Luca reached out and squeezed her hand. ‘I want to know. Tell me what you’re thinking.’

It was nothing. Perhaps he was just being polite? But to Mia, something in her chest exploded and she couldn’t say why.

She blinked away from him, staring at the crystal-clear waters.

‘It would be a good idea for you to skip breakfasts for a while, Mia. Particularly those heavy English cooked ones.’

‘We used to come here on summer vacations, to this exact place,’ she said, softly, her words barely carrying to him in the afternoon sunshine. ‘I loved it. As a girl, I would lose myself in the water for hours, emerging only when my skin was wrinkled like a prune and my eyes bleary from a combination of sunscreen and salt water.’

He squeezed her hand. ‘And then, when I was about eleven, it started to change. I got heavier. Awkward. I’d come back from school and Mum would weigh me, frown, shake her head, tell me she was going to call the dorm mistress to speak about my diet.’ Mia’s voice was thick with emotion; she didn’t look at Luca, didn’t see the way his eyes sparked with a mix of anger and surprise.

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