CHAPTER TEN

‘Y OU WEREN ’ T IN the bed this morning.’

Flora avoided Vito’s eye at the breakfast table. ‘No, I, ah, felt bad about my hair getting the sheets damp so I moved into the other bedroom.’

‘Is this going to be a regular occurrence?’

Flora forced herself to look at him and her heart flipped over. He was clean-shaven. She said, ‘I think it’s probably a good idea.’

After a long moment Vito said, ‘You’re probably right.’

Then Flora said mischievously, ‘Actually, it’s because you snore.’

Vito raised a brow. ‘That’s funny because so do you but I’d never be so rude as to mention it.’

Flora’s mouth dropped open. ‘No, I do not.’

‘How would you know?’ Vito pointed out.

Flora closed her mouth. She picked up a small pastry and threw it at him. He caught it deftly. He grinned and the flip-flopping of her heart got worse. Then Vito took another gulp of coffee, wiped his mouth and stood up, saying, ‘By the way, we’re leaving for London this afternoon. I have to stop off en route back to Rome. Is that okay?’

Flora looked at Vito. She felt as if she were on a roller coaster, living at the speed of Vito. She nodded her head to indicate she didn’t mind, even as the thought of London filled her with a sense of disquiet. She hadn’t been back there since the accident that had killed her parents and brother, after they’d left her at a friend’s house for a sleepover. She pushed it down deep where all the other painful memories were stored.

‘How long will we be there?’

‘Just a couple of days. There’s an event to attend, and I’d like to meet with Massimo Black.’

Flora was slightly cheered at the prospect of seeing Carrie Black again. Then she thought of something. ‘Oh, I promised Mrs Weinberg I’d take the dogs out again this morning and do a little shopping for her.’

Vito looked amused. ‘You do realise that anyone living in this building can afford to have their dogs walked and their shopping bought whenever they want?’

Flora just smiled sweetly. ‘Maybe they do, but maybe they’re also just lonely and want a bit of human contact. Is that so bad?’

Vito shook his head and came around to her chair and bent down, putting his hands on the arms, caging her in. Flora’s pulse leapt.

Vito said, ‘You’re too good to be true...or are you?’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

Vito shook his head and stood up again. The implication that she was somehow faking being nice cut Flora deeper than it should. Damn him.

She said, ‘Don’t you get tired of being so cynical all the time? Maybe things...and people are just as they seem.’

Vito’s expression hardened. ‘Maybe, in some small corner of the world, but not in my world.’

Now Flora felt sad. ‘Then your world must be a very lonely place.’

A glint came into Vito’s eye. ‘Not so lonely...for now.’ And on that, he turned and left the room. Those two words rang in Flora’s head for the rest of the morning: For now...for now. As if Vito hadn’t already made it clear as a bell that this was very finite, the message had just been well and truly drummed home.

London sweltered in the humid heat and under moody grey skies. A storm was imminent. To Flora, the weather felt as if it were an outward manifestation of the storm brewing inside her. The storm that told her all of this—between her and Vito—would explode sooner or later and she’d be left in the debris, shattered and hoping that she could pick herself up and start again.

Feeling maudlin, and not liking it because she strove hard to maintain a sunny attitude, Flora looked around the suite at the top of one of London’s most iconic and exclusive hotels. She should feel as if she was fitting in. After all, she’d chosen her travelling clothes with care—cream pencil trousers and a matching silk blouse—pulled her hair back into a tidy braid because Vito had warned her about the British paparazzi because apparently they kept an eye on private planes arriving at the airport, hoping to catch celebrities.

Flora had almost forgotten about all of that thanks to the relative anonymity in America.

The suite was luxurious. Sumptuous. Thick plush carpets. Muted grey-and gold-trimmed decor that allowed the art and antiques to shine. Exquisite furniture.

But somehow all of this opulence only made her feel unkempt and volatile. As if this world were mocking her, saying, You never really belonged, not even with your uncle...

Just then, Benji came into the room, and started sniffing around the leg of a chair that looked as if it had been in Louis XVI’s court and, before he could cock his leg, Flora scooped him up and brought him out to the terrace.

When she’d put the dog down, Flora realised what it was that was bugging her, apart from being back in London after all these years, and the fact that she was falling for a man who saw her only as a lover and a vehicle to restore his reputation.

While Vito did make her feel seen in a way that was dangerously seductive, she also felt a bit like a piece of flotsam and jetsam being carried along in his current and at any moment, much like the way he’d announced they were coming to London, he might simply announce—

At that moment, as if conjured out of her tumultuous emotions, Vito appeared in the doorway. He was wearing a shirt and trousers. Casual. He looked up at the sky. ‘It’s starting to rain. You should come in.’

But Flora stayed rooted to the ground, emotions bubbling up before she could stop them. ‘I don’t have to do anything.’

Vito looked at her. ‘There’s a downpour starting.’

‘So? It’s only rain.’

Vito’s gaze narrowed on her. He stepped out onto the terrace. ‘Flora...what’s going on?’

She struggled to articulate what she was feeling and finally she blurted out, ‘I’m not just some sort of doll that you can pick up and put down and move around.’

Rain was falling now and it was heavy. Vito was shaking his head, hair beginning to flatten against his skull. He said, ‘That’s the last thing I think of you.’

They were getting drenched already, in just seconds, but Vito didn’t seem inclined to move. Flora had to raise her voice over the rain. ‘You just...need to give me notice, okay?’

‘Notice of what?’

She bit her lip. ‘Notice of when you don’t want me any more. When it’s over. You can’t just announce it one morning, that you’re done with me. Over breakfast.’

‘Maybe you’ll be done with me before I’m done with you,’ Vito said. Flora absorbed that notion, as unlikely as she knew it was.

She said, ‘Maybe I will, maybe you’ll wake up one morning and I’ll be gone.’ Moving on with her life, going after her dreams and goals, even if they were still a little hazy. Flora had a sense of appreciation in that moment of how she’d survived in those first days after the wedding debacle. She could do it again, and she would. Perversely, the man who she knew would inevitably cause her untold emotional pain was also the person helping to remind her of her own agency and strength. A contradiction she didn’t want to untangle right now.

Vito moved closer then, putting his hands on her waist, hauling her into him. She could feel every hard sinew of his powerful form. Their clothes were plastered to their bodies by now. The sky flashed with lightning and thunder rolled.

Vito said, ‘No way, you’re mine.’

Flora reached her arms up and wound them around his neck, arching herself against him. ‘For now,’ she said, echoing his words back to him but, even as she was reminded of her own strength, she hated to admit that she didn’t feel as if she’d won any kind of victory.

She pressed her mouth to his and his hands speared in her hair, holding her in place so he could plunder her and stamp his very essence onto her. He lifted her then and brought her out of the rain and through the suite to the bedroom, and their sodden clothes were peeled off. He stood before her, every muscle sleek and taut, and she lay back on the bed. ‘Make love to me, Vito.’

He came over her on two hands, and she opened her legs to him. He said as he joined their bodies in one single cataclysmic thrust, ‘You’re mine, Flora. Mine. ’

She was his, for now, and he was hers, and she revelled in his possession, knowing that it wouldn’t last.

The following day, Vito was distracted in his meeting. He’d given up trying to fool himself that he could avoid thinking about Flora. He texted her to see where she was—she’d mentioned going for a walk with Benji that morning. They had a function to attend that evening and he’d arranged for a glam team to meet Flora at the hotel. Even though he usually preferred how she looked before they teased her hair into some sort of up-do and put make-up over her freckles.

The after-effects of making love to Flora after that rainstorm lingered in his blood and body. He hadn’t been able to get her words out of his head or the intensity of the way she’d said them.

‘I’m not just some sort of doll...’ and ‘Maybe you’ll wake up one morning and I’ll be gone.’

When Vito had woken that morning, to find Flora curled against his back, one arm draped over his waist, a hand splayed on his belly, he’d put his hand over hers and he hated to admit it, but he’d felt a sense of relief and he’d thought to himself, Not today.

But he wasn’t fooling himself. It might not be today but it would be one day. Either he would end it because he would look at her and not want her, or maybe she would be the one to leave. And shouldn’t Vito welcome that? After all, it wasn’t as if he wanted anything more with this woman.

‘Vito?’

Vito looked around. He hadn’t even realised that his thoughts had propelled him up out of his seat and to a window. His phone pinged and he looked at it. A message from Flora with a location pin to a residential street in Mayfair. He frowned. What was she doing at a house in Mayfair?

He turned to the people around the board table. ‘Can we wrap this up? I have somewhere I need to be.’

The fact that Vito was speeding through a meeting that would normally have absorbed one hundred per cent of his attention barely impinged now. He needed to go to Flora.

Flora was standing in the back garden when she felt the little hairs rise up on her arms. Vito. He’d come. She hadn’t expressly asked him to but on some level she’d wanted him to come.

He came and stood beside her and asked, ‘Are you interested in buying this house?’

Flora shook her head. ‘No, of course not. They were having an open viewing. I had no idea it was up for sale.’

‘So...why are you here?’

Flora swallowed. ‘It was my home, with my parents and brother. I grew up here for eight years. After they died...my uncle sold it and the proceeds went into my inheritance.’ She made a face. ‘Well, what would have been my inheritance.’

Vito came and stood in front of her, obstructing her view of the large verdant garden. Benji ambled around nearby, sniffing the border hedging.

Flora forced herself to look at Vito, but her chest was tight and she was afraid of the emotion swelling up inside her. It had affected her more than she’d thought, when she’d first seen the number on the house and realised that the one for sale was her family home. She’d gravitated there without even knowing what she was doing.

Vito said quite seriously, ‘Do you want it, Flora? I can buy it for you.’

A half-strangled laugh came out and she put her hand to her mouth before lowering it. She shook her head. ‘No, I don’t want the house. To be honest, I don’t even remember all that much. A lot of my life here... I think I blanked it out afterwards. It was too painful to remember. We were so happy here. Me, and my parents and my little brother. But sometimes I think it can’t possibly have been that perfect.’

She saw something beyond Vito and she grabbed his hand. ‘I need to check something.’

She brought him down the garden to a tree at the end. Old and gnarly. She let his hand go and crouched down and pushed some leaves aside. When she saw what she was looking for on the trunk she felt a moment of pure happiness. She said, ‘Look, it’s still here.’

Vito bent down beside her. ‘What am I looking at?’

Flora traced her finger over the etched words and spoke them out loud. ‘ “Flora and Charlie and Truffles.” I carved this not long before the accident.’

‘Who was Truffles?’ he asked.

‘Our dog, a big shaggy golden retriever. I had to leave him in London. My uncle wouldn’t let me take him to Rome.’

Vito stood up from his crouched position. Flora sensed his bristling energy. When she stood up his face was thunderous. She said, ‘What’s wrong?’

His eyes were obsidian. Flora shivered a little. It reminded her of how he’d looked in his office when she’d confronted him after the wedding debacle. He said, ‘What your uncle did to you—it makes me want to go after him all over again and pound him to dust, make sure that he will never—’

Flora put her hand on Vito’s arm. ‘He doesn’t deserve your anger or any more of your energy.’

Vito shook his head. ‘Why are you not angry?’

‘Because I didn’t have that luxury for a long time. I depended on him solely. And it wasn’t his fault that my parents and brother died, that was a freak accident on a rainy night after they’d left me at a friend’s house. If anything, it was more my fault than his.’ Flora admitted the thing she’d tortured herself with for years—if she hadn’t wanted to go to her friend’s house that night then maybe...

Vito was shaking his head. ‘Not your fault. And it certainly wasn’t your fault that your uncle then stole your inheritance.’

Flora shrugged. ‘Money hasn’t ever been that important to me.’

‘Maybe because you felt you didn’t deserve it? For living when they didn’t?’

Vito’s words stabbed Flora right in the heart. How could this man, who so coldly and cruelly handed her a public humiliation of the worst kind—standing her up on their wedding day—also be able to intuit one of her deepest and most shameful fears?

‘Maybe,’ she had to concede sadly. ‘Why should I have benefited from an inheritance that my brother would never see because he was dead?’

‘Why shouldn’t you? I didn’t know them but I’m fairly certain they wouldn’t have wanted you deprived of it.’

Flora wanted to get Vito’s suddenly far too perceptive focus off her. She walked away from the tree, leaving it behind. She asked, ‘If your parents hadn’t died...would you be different, do you think? Would you have achieved so much?’

‘Who knows? Circumstances shape us into what we are, what we want. Maybe if my father hadn’t been ruined I wouldn’t have had the same hunger to succeed.’

Flora wrinkled her nose. ‘You’re ambitious... I think you would have still ended up where you are.’

‘Maybe you’re right, but I think I would have come up against your uncle sooner or later. He couldn’t handle any competition. He would have come after me.’

She sneaked a look at Vito. He still looked ridiculously sexy even against this very domestic backdrop. Curious, she asked, ‘Are you happy now that you’ve got your revenge?’

He stopped walking, as if her question had surprised him. ‘I can’t say it feels all that different apart from the fact that I’m not so consumed with one thing. If anything...it’s been a bit of an anticlimax.’

‘That’s probably delayed grief. I can’t imagine you took much time after your parents’ deaths to grieve?’

He started walking again. ‘Did you?’

‘I was eight. I didn’t know which way the world was up. I know that I didn’t cry. Not for a long time.’

‘But you did cry?’

Flora’s chest squeezed. She nodded. ‘Eventually, in quiet moments.’ Wanting to move away from the painful subject of grief, Flora asked, ‘Would you have had a family by now if you hadn’t lost everything? If you hadn’t been so intent on seeking justice?’

Vito shook his head. ‘It never really interested me. I never felt it as a lack, as something that would fill a gap. My father, even before things got bad, was a workaholic. We spent a lot of time together primarily because he would take me to work with him. My mother hid it, but she was sad. I think they couldn’t have more children and she never really got over it. So we were very tight. A unit. They loved me and I loved them. I didn’t miss siblings so I’ve never particularly wanted children. I don’t think I’d be a very good father.’

He’d more or less told her this already. She felt as if she was pushing for something, not even sure what. For him to admit that maybe he wanted more out of life than being a lone wolf? And that he wanted her to be a part of that?

He turned to face her, blocking out the few other people who were still in the garden. He asked, ‘What about you?’

It hit her then, like a ton of bricks, standing here in the back garden of her family home, surrounded by bittersweet memories. She said, almost to herself, ‘Yes... I want a family. Some day. I’d like to try and recreate that happiness, in spite of the grief and fear of loss.’

‘I’m sure you’ll get it too, Flora. You’d deserve it. But I’m a selfish man, I want what I want and it’s not that.’

Flora tried to ignore the way her insides clenched as if in rejection of his assertion. Her future wasn’t bound with this man. She tipped up her chin. ‘And what do you want?’

He reached for her. ‘Haven’t I been making myself very clear? I want you, Flora.’

She went into his arms willingly, and let his mouth transport her out of this place and the memories and, worse , hopeless dreams. Dreams Flora had never acknowledged before.

That evening the event was taking place in London’s most exclusive art gallery. It was a huge art auction to raise funds for a collection of different charities. Flora turned to Vito when they were in the vast open space. She wanted to say something to him before he got swallowed up by a steady stream of worshippers.

She caught his hand and he looked down at her. Her face got hot and she momentarily forgot her train of thought. Her blood was still pulsing after what had happened not long ago. When Vito had come into the dressing room after the glam team had left, he’d taken one look at her in the slinky black silk evening gown, and the air had crackled with electricity.

What had happened in the space of the next half-hour had been fast and furious and Flora’s nice, neat up-do had sadly come apart and now her hair was wild and untameable and flowing over her shoulders.

She wanted to scowl at him because, while she felt as if what they’d been doing was written in scarlet letters across her forehead, he looked pristine and serene.

He arched a brow. ‘What?’

Flora forced herself to focus. He was too distracting. ‘I just wanted to say thank you. I got an email from Maria at the women’s aid centre earlier and she told me about their new premises thanks to your donation. They will have an acre of land, which will allow kids to bring their pets. You have no idea how much that means...’ Flora had to stop, she was feeling emotional.

Vito squeezed her hand. ‘After today, I can imagine exactly how special that is.’

Flora looked up at him. She felt as if she were drowning. The connection between them was so tangible, was it really just on her side? Could he not feel it too? Or was she just grasping at straws because underneath the taciturn vengeful billionaire he was actually a person who could be empathetic and that was all?

Before she could wonder too much about it, there was a tap on her back and she turned around to see Carrie Black. Flora was so full of excess emotion and relieved to see a familiar, kind face that she impulsively hugged the other woman. Her husband was greeting Vito. Flora pulled back, mortified. ‘I’m sorry, this probably isn’t the place for spontaneous bursts of tactility.’

Carrie Black laughed and hooked her arm into Flora’s. ‘Oh, believe me, I’m just as glad to see you. Let’s leave the men to talk while we do some celebrity spotting. I’m sure I saw Harry Styles just now.’

Flora let herself be whisked away by Carrie, relieved to be moving out of Vito’s orbit for a little while. She was far too raw after seeing her family home earlier and the explosive lovemaking.

Vito had lost sight of Flora and Carrie a while ago, and he knew his attention should be on Massimo Black, but it wasn’t.

Massimo Black said wryly, ‘I understand what it’s like.’

Vito looked at him. ‘What?’

‘To be consumed.’

Vito felt exposed. ‘By...?’

‘A woman. I’d never experienced anything like it until I met Carrie.’

Vito was already shaking his head as if to deny that his relationship with Flora was anything like what this man had with his wife but Black didn’t notice and was saying, ‘You know, based on your reputation before, I wasn’t inclined to invest in your company, but now that we’ve met and I’ve seen you with Flora, it’s given me a new perspective. To be brutally honest, you can thank her that I’m willing to invest.’

Black held out his hand and Vito realised that this was it. The man was doing a deal, or committing to doing a deal, here and now. Vito took his hand, shook it firmly, feeling a little stunned. ‘Thank you, I didn’t expect that.’

Black said, ‘I don’t play games, Vitale. I’ve no time for it.’

Vito pulled his hand back. His conscience pricked. ‘What if...I wasn’t with Flora?’

Massimo Black said, ‘Then I don’t think we’d be having this conversation.’

‘So if I wasn’t with her, or in a relationship, then you wouldn’t want to invest in my company?’

‘It might seem old-fashioned but you’re a much more solid bet for me if you have cares and responsibilities outside yourself. I don’t think you’re letting that woman go any time soon, are you?’

Vito thought of letting Flora go, of not having her near him, in his bed, and he felt dizzy. It receded quickly. He just wasn’t done with her, that was all. So he could honestly respond by saying, ‘No.’

At that moment Carrie appeared by her husband’s side and Vito caught an inkling of what Black was saying when husband and wife looked at each other with such intimacy that he felt as if he was intruding.

He cleared his throat. ‘Wasn’t Flora with you?’

Carrie looked around. ‘She was. She just—Ah, there she is.’

Flora approached from behind Vito and he took in her face. There was something about her expression that made him look twice. She was pale. Her smile was forced. He reached for her hand but she was holding her clutch bag. He frowned but had to respond to Massimo Black, who was saying to Vito, ‘I’ll have my assistant set up a meeting before you leave London?’

Vito smiled. ‘Yes, that’d be good.’

Carrie smiled at them both. ‘Goodnight, hope to see you again soon.’

The warmth between the women was genuine and Vito had a sense again of how it could be to have someone by his side who could enhance his life in ways he’d never considered before. As Massimo Black had said, if he weren’t with Flora, Massimo wouldn’t have considered working with him.

And wasn’t this what he’d set out to achieve by having her by his side? He’d just never expected that she would be so effective. The other couple had walked away. Vito glanced at Flora and now she looked a little green. He took her arm. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I have a bit of a headache.’

‘Do you want to go?’

She nodded. ‘Maybe, if that’s okay. You don’t have to go. I can get a taxi.’

A sense of disquiet filling Vito now, he said, ‘No, it’s okay. Massimo Black was the person I wanted to speak to and I have. We can go.’

They walked outside and Vito’s driver met them. The journey back to the hotel was in silence. Not like Flora not to be chattering. Vito didn’t like it. When they got to the suite, Flora didn’t meet his eye. She said, ‘I think I’ll go to bed in the guest room, so I don’t disturb you.’

Vito was pulling off his bow tie. ‘Flora, are you sure it’s just a headache? Do you need a doctor?’

She shook her head quickly, her hair moving around her shoulders. ‘No, it’s not that bad, I’ll take some painkillers and go to sleep. I’m sure I’ll be fine in the morning.’

Vito told himself he was overreacting. He said, ‘Okay, goodnight,’ and watched Flora slip off her shoes before walking out of the room, Benji trotting loyally at her heels. He felt the urge to trot after her.

He realised that he and the dog weren’t all that different. He scowled at the notion and turned away, going to the drinks cabinet to help himself to a shot of whiskey, ruminating on the potential deal with Massimo Black and the fact that having Flora in his life was central to that development.