CHAPTER FOUR

W HEN F LORA WOKE she felt as if she was emerging from the deepest and most peaceful sleep she’d ever had. When she opened her eyes she had to squint. It was bright daylight. Her phone was on a nightstand beside the bed and she looked at it and jackknifed up to sitting, the damp towel falling off her head. She groaned. She could only imagine what state her hair was in.

It was lunchtime. Later than she’d ever slept in her life. And she was in Vittorio Vitale’s apartment. In his guest room. And where was Benji?

She got up and washed herself and pulled on a pair of faded jeans and a T-shirt. She couldn’t do much with her hair so she just pulled it back into a bun.

She left the room and made her way down corridors, eventually emerging into the living room. She saw French doors open and heard an excited yapping. She followed the sound to see a young man in a suit throwing a ball for Benji. The man looked up and went red. She recognised him as the man who’d admitted her to Vittorio’s office on the wedding day. ‘Miss Gavia, I’m Tommaso, Signore Vitale’s assistant. I’ll let him know you’re up. He’s in his home office.’

He’d fled before Flora could say anything and Benji was running around her feet excitedly. She picked him up and snuggled him close. She frowned then as a half-memory, half-dream returned. Had Benji been on the bed with her last night? And had someone come to take him that morning?

Flora thought of Vittorio coming into the room and seeing her sprawled on the bed in complete disarray and a flush of heat climbed through her body. And of course he chose that moment to appear in front of her, when her face was glowing like a beacon.

He was dressed in black trousers and a light blue shirt, top button open. He said, ‘You must be hungry. Let’s have lunch. Tommaso will take Benji out for a walk.’

Tommaso appeared again and whisked Benji away. Flora said redundantly, ‘Thank you, but I can take him out myself. I don’t expect your staff to dog-sit. Anyway, we’ll be leaving soon.’

Flora had been following Vittorio into a room off the living room. It was a dining room, through which she could see a kitchen and hear someone whistling. The domestic sound was comforting.

Vittorio pulled out a chair where there was a setting laid out. Flora sat down. Vittorio sat opposite her. He said, ‘It’s no problem. Tommaso is happy to help. So, where exactly are you planning on going?’

Flora was distracted by Sofia appearing with a light pasta starter that smelled delicious. She looked at Vittorio. ‘I’m sorry, what?’

‘You said you’ll be leaving soon. Where are you planning on going?’

Flora’s insides cramped a little. She didn’t have anywhere to go. And with a dog in tow that would be even more challenging. She affected an airy tone. ‘Oh, we’ll find somewhere. I have some contacts.’

‘Not many places will take a dog.’

Flora wanted to glare at him. She didn’t need to hear her fears articulated back to her. ‘I’m sure we’ll be fine.’ She speared a piece of pasta and put it in her mouth.

‘So far you’ve been on the streets, then in a hostel and then a women’s aid centre—your track record hasn’t exactly been...stellar.’

Now Flora felt defensive. ‘I did the best I could with what little I had. The wedding dress didn’t fetch as much as I’d hoped.’

‘You sold the dress?’

‘It was all I had to sell.’

She saw Vittorio go pale under his tan at the thought of her being driven to drastic measures, and said hurriedly, ‘It never came to that. It wouldn’t have.’

‘It could have,’ he said darkly.

‘Well, it didn’t. I sold the dress for a few hundred euros and that kept me going.’

‘It was worth thousands.’

Vittorio had bought the dress. Flora said, ‘The second-hand designer wedding-dress market isn’t as robust as you might think.’

‘You could have made a lot more for the engagement ring, but you left it behind.’

Flora recalled what she’d said to him. ‘I’m sorry for saying you had no taste. That wasn’t very nice.’

Vittorio pushed his half-finished plate away. He emitted a sound halfway between a bark of laughter and incredulity. ‘ You’re sorry? I’m the one who sent you out into the streets to fend for yourself.’

Flora squirmed a little. ‘You thought I had money.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Then he made a face and said, ‘I wasn’t exactly receptive to hearing your side of things.’

‘You could say that, yes.’

Sofia came and took the starters away and returned with mains of chicken in a white wine sauce with baby potatoes and salad. Flora tried not to behave like someone who hadn’t had a square meal in months, but it was hard.

She forced herself to leave some food on the plate and had to stop herself asking Sofia if she could bag up the leftovers for Benji. As if reading her mind, though, Sofia winked at Flora and said, ‘Don’t worry, Benji will get some choice pieces of chicken.’

Flora grinned at Sofia. Who would have known she’d find such a sanctuary in Vittorio Vitale’s home? She looked at him and he had an arrested expression on his face. She stopped smiling. ‘What is it? You keep looking at me as if I’ve got something on my face.’

He shook his head and cleared his throat. ‘The fact is that we both know that you’ve got nowhere to go.’

Flora sat up straight. ‘That’s not true, I have lots of...’ She trailed off and sagged back a little. She never had been much good at lying.

Sofia brought coffees and biscotti. Flora took a fortifying sip. As the tart strong drink went down her throat she said, ‘I’ll find something. It’s not your concern.’

‘Well, I think it is. I feel responsible for letting you go the last time without ensuring your well-being and security. I was distracted and blinded by besting your uncle. I don’t like to admit it, but you were peripheral to my agenda with him and this time I’m going to take responsibility for my actions.’

Now Flora was suspicious. ‘What’s that supposed to mean—take responsibility?’

Vittorio stood up and walked over to the window, hands in his pockets. The action drew the material of his trousers taut over his muscular buttocks. Then he turned around and Flora had to avert her gaze up, guiltily.

‘What that means is that I have a proposition.’

Now Flora felt nervous. ‘Vittorio—’

‘Call me Vito. The only person who called me Vittorio was my mother when she was angry with me.’

Flora’s heart squeezed at the mention of his mother. ‘Very well... Vito...’ she faltered. It felt incredibly intimate calling him Vito. Now she knew why he hadn’t invited her to address him as such before, because in his eyes she’d barely existed.

He’d just apologised for that.

‘What kind of proposition?’ And when she said that, why did she feel an illicit flutter of awareness across her skin? This man had no interest in her. Not like that.

‘The reason your uncle proposed a marriage arrangement was for his own benefit, of course, but also because he knew the media was speculating about my...social life. My bachelorhood. The fact that it was potentially affecting my business. He saw an opportunity and grabbed it.’

‘And then you grabbed it right back,’ pointed out Flora. Using her as the unfortunate pawn.

Vito conceded that with a nod of his head. ‘But the fact remains that there was some logic in your uncle’s plan outside his own nefarious aims. And the situation hasn’t changed.’

Flora frowned. ‘Meaning...’

‘Speculation is still rife as to my...love life. Standing you up at the altar didn’t exactly enhance my reputation.’

Flora’s heart quickened. ‘So you don’t...have a girlfriend at the moment?’ She winced inwardly. A man like Vito didn’t do girlfriends. She recalled seeing a picture of him in the papers shortly after that fateful day—he’d been at an event with one of Italy’s most beautiful models. The gossip had been intense. She’d actually been grateful that she wasn’t recognisable or else the paparazzi would have had a field day documenting her fall from grace.

Vito was shaking his head. ‘No, there’s no one in particular.’

A spark of something dark made Flora say, ‘Just casual lovers, then.’

Vito’s jaw clenched and then he said tightly, ‘Actually, not even casual lovers for a while. I haven’t had much interest.’

Flora’s silly heart skipped again. ‘It’s none of my business.’

‘It will be.’

‘How’s that?’

‘What I propose is that we get back together.’

‘But we never were together, not really.’

‘True. But that doesn’t really matter. If we’re seen to be together again, it’ll restore your reputation and it’ll stop the speculation about my private life.’

‘It wasn’t much of a secret that our marriage was a business deal,’ she pointed out, still stung by some of the whispers she’d heard from people leaving the church.

‘Of course, he was never going to marry a mouse like her. A man like Vittorio Vitale needs a real woman.’

It was that comment in particular that had galvanised her to come to his offices to find him. The thought of more humiliation wasn’t particularly appealing.

He said, ‘So who’s to say that it’s not something else now? Something more.’

That audacious thought sent an electric charge across her skin. But of course he didn’t actually mean it. It was a hypothetical question. Flora shook her head, struggling to understand. ‘But why...would you want to do this with me of all people? You hate me.’

Vito shook his head. ‘Not you. Your uncle.’

She frowned. ‘But won’t he benefit from you being seen with me?’

Vito’s mouth thinned. ‘If anything it’ll highlight his exile even more. He wouldn’t dare come near me.’

Flora shivered a little. She’d seen what it was like to be on the wrong side of this man.

‘I... I’d have to think about it. I’ve made a bit of a life for myself. I know you might not think it’s much, but I have hope for the future, that I can survive. Me and Benji. We just need help getting on our feet.’

‘Which is what I’m offering you.’

‘What are you offering exactly?’

A look came into his eyes that Flora didn’t like. It was something between knowing, cynical and weary.

‘What do you want?’

Her mind went blank. What she wanted she’d already got in a way—freedom from her uncle. A life of her own. She was happy to work for her own security.

‘What’s your price, Flora?’

She looked at him, eyes narrowed. There it was, the world-weary cynicism. She rebelled against it. Even after everything she’d been through, loss, pain, grief, the sterile care of her uncle and aunt, she still retained some sense of hope and a belief in good.

A little rogue inside her urged her to play him at his own game. She lifted her chin. ‘I want money, Vito. Isn’t that what everyone wants?’

Vito didn’t know why he felt so...disappointed. Underneath it all, Flora Gavia was like everyone else, every other woman. She wanted to feather her nest. And he was offering her exactly what she wanted.

Whether or not she’d manipulated him to this exact point, he still wasn’t sure and that irritated him. Even now when she was brazenly saying she wanted money.

But then...something about the expression on her face caught him. Her eyes. As if she was mocking him, or...felt sorry for him. Instantly he felt exposed.

‘What is it? What are you up to, Flora?’

She stood up. She was slight in her jeans and T-shirt, but he was acutely conscious of her curves under the thin material of her top. The tiny waist he’d noticed on the wedding day. Hips flaring out. The swell of her breasts.

This was a mistake. The woman was a serious irritation and maybe he should just let her and the damn dog—

‘You’re unbelievable,’ she said, cutting through his thoughts. ‘You’re the most cynical person I ever met. Even worse than my uncle, and that’s saying something.’

Vito’s face was like stone. ‘Everyone has a price, Flora, whether they like to admit it or not.’

Flora was about to deny that but she clamped her mouth shut. Maybe she was being hasty here. Vittorio Vitale was one of the most powerfully wealthy men in the world. There was a lot he could do. Maybe she did have a price.

She looked at him. ‘If I did want something...it wouldn’t have to be for me, would it?’

He frowned. ‘Like what?’

‘I don’t know...yet.’

Vito shrugged. ‘You get to decide what you want to do with it. No strings attached.’

It being whatever price she deemed she was worth for Vito to pretend that they were back together? The notion was so ridiculous that she almost felt like laughing. But then she remembered her uncle and aunt, and how every conversation had revolved around money and who had it or didn’t.

She remembered that they had plundered her inheritance. All she’d had left of her beloved parents.

Vittorio Vitale was a man from that world. Where everything revolved around money and power and ambition. No wonder it was the only language he knew. He’d been bereaved as a young man and had set out to avenge his parents, accruing great wealth and power along the way.

Motivated by revenge. And yet, since she’d seen him again he’d shown aspects of himself that she never would have expected of the cold and ruthless man who had stood her up on their wedding day. Flora’s head was whirling.

‘I have to think about all of this... I’m going to go for a walk. I’ll find Tommaso and send him back. I’m sure he has more to be doing for you than walking my dog.’

Flora had slipped out of the room before Vito could say anything else. He couldn’t really believe that she wasn’t negotiating terms. That she wasn’t immediately naming a price.

It had been so long since he’d dealt with anyone who didn’t look at him as if calculating how much they could get out of him—business colleagues and women—that it was more than a novelty. It was disconcerting. He had nothing to bargain with. And that made him feel a little...redundant.

If he had nothing he could offer Flora then would she even stay? And why did that suddenly matter?

Because she intrigues you and you want her. You want the woman who you stood up at the altar. You haven’t forgotten her in six months.

This situation was unprecedented. Vito had never had to think much about pursuing a woman he wanted, never intending on a liaison lasting long. Because his main focus had always been on building up his business and taking Umberto Gavia down.

But now, he wanted a woman who came with strings attached. More than strings. A dog. And yet it wasn’t making him reconsider. He was too hungry for her.

He’d taken that model out—on the evening of the day he’d been due to marry Flora Gavia. It had been intended as a very clear message to Umberto Gavia and the world that Vito was triumphant.

But that evening and date had been a disaster. He’d been distracted. The model—he couldn’t even remember her name—had been uninteresting and not remotely appealing to Vito.

And now, in light of what Flora had been facing when she’d left his office, the memory left a distinctly sour taste in his mouth.

Since that day, Vito had found that the life that he’d been living—high-octane working and socialising—had suddenly felt...a little empty. He’d put it down to the anticlimax of taking over Gavia’s business. And so he’d put his head down and used the time to consolidate his position, to make sure that he was invulnerable to any kind of attacks in the future.

But as soon as he’d laid eyes on Flora Gavia again something had pulsed back into life inside him. A desire to engage again. Desire for a woman. Hunger.

The fact that it was her of all people was not entirely welcome, but he assured himself that even if she was up to something, he would be prepared. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t expecting it.

A little voice reminded him that he’d felt something for her on the wedding day, when she’d appeared in that dress. He’d noticed her then. She’d made a mark, a mark that hadn’t been made before. Because he hadn’t noticed her previously. Or had deliberately chosen not to. Not wanting the distraction.

But now he was distracted. And he was going to do whatever it took to persuade her that he at least owed her sanctuary. As for anything more than that...he’d seen the way she blushed whenever he looked at her. He knew when a woman wanted him. They were both adults. If she was prepared to admit that she felt the same chemistry as him, then perhaps this offer of sanctuary could become something much more mutually satisfying.

He went back into his home office and made some calls. When he heard a light knock on the door, he looked up to see Flora framed in the doorway, the dog in her arms looking pretty content.

Vito could empathise. He stood up. ‘Please, come in. Can I get you anything?’

Flora came in and stood on the other side of the desk. She shook her head. Some of her hair had come loose from her bun and was framing her face in curly tendrils.

Once again Vito wondered how on earth he hadn’t appreciated her allure until the wedding day, and now.

She put the dog down and he ambled around the room, sniffing. She said, ‘I’ve had a think about your...proposition.’

Vito waited, feeling unexpectedly tense. He really wasn’t sure which way this woman would go and usually he read people with ease.

She looked at him. ‘I’ve decided that I’ll stay. I’ll agree to this plan...to appear as if we are together. It can only help me regain some sort of dignity and respect and give me an opportunity to give something back.’

‘Give something back...what do you mean?’

‘I’d like you to give a generous donation to the women’s aid centre. They need every euro they can get and they need new facilities. I know that’s a lot to ask but—’

‘Consider it done.’

Flora’s eyes widened. ‘You mean...you mean that you’ll donate, and help them get new facilities?’

Vito shrugged. ‘I invest in charities all the time, and they’re a great cause. They should have been on my radar before now.’

‘But it could mean...millions.’

‘They need it. You said so yourself.’

‘Yes, but I wasn’t thinking you’d just agree and offer so much in one fell swoop.’

‘Maybe I’m trying to impress you.’

Flora blushed. Vito’s body tightened all over.

She said, ‘You know you’re an impressive guy, but I’m not here to be impressed.’

Vito was struck once again by the way she seemed to be so determined not to take advantage of his interest. To flirt with him.

Curious, he asked, ‘What do you want for yourself?’

She shook her head. ‘Nothing, really. Oh, no, wait, I’ll need help with vet bills for Benji...but I’ll pay you back for that when I can.’

‘The dog. And the women’s aid centre. Nothing for you.’

She looked at him as if he were talking in tongues. ‘I’ve never had anything...so I’m not sure what you mean. My uncle put a roof over my head and hired tutors. I believed that he used my inheritance for that. Now I know he used it for a lot more. But I can’t be bitter about it because what’s the point? The money is gone. He got his due in the end. I can’t say I’m sorry that he is where he is.’

‘But what about your future?’

Now Flora looked shy. ‘I’d like to do some kind of a course. I’ve always been interested in design and graphics. I helped the women’s aid centre come up with a new logo.’

‘I could pay for a course.’

Flora shook her head again. ‘I know you could, without even blinking, but my independence is important to me. My whole life was spent feeling obligated to my uncle. He never let me forget that he was taking me in, caring for me—’

‘While embezzling you,’ Vito pointed out.

‘Yes. That too. But if I do a course, I want to pay for it myself. I’ll get a job and make my own way. Maybe you could just help with some references or something like that...’

Vito couldn’t quite compute this. If Flora was playing a game, it was a very long one. He should know—that was what he’d done with her uncle. But, in his gut, he felt he knew the answer. There was no game here.

For a disconcerting second, Vito felt as if the ground beneath him were shifting. Moving. As if he might have to put out a hand to steady himself. But the only thing within reach was her. And he hadn’t had to use anyone to steady himself in a long time. Hadn’t needed it.

He pushed a piece of paper and a pen across the desk. ‘Write down your contact at the women’s aid centre and I’ll put my team in touch. They’ll set up a meeting and we can ascertain the best way to go about helping them.’

Flora sat down on the chair behind her, almost as if the stuffing were knocked out of her. ‘That’s really amazing. Thank you.’ She wrote down a name and pushed the paper back.

Vito felt something unfamiliar in his chest. A glow. Warmth. Then a little line furrowed between her brows and she said hesitantly, ‘So how would this work exactly? How would we show people that we’re...together?’

Flora still felt a little as if the wind had been knocked out of her. She couldn’t believe that Vito was agreeing to her request with such speed and generosity. Okay, so he was rich enough to do something like this, but she wasn’t used to rich people being generous. Her uncle had been one of the meanest people she’d ever known.

He perched on the edge of the table now and his thigh was in her peripheral vision. She had to fight not to let her gaze drop.

He said, ‘We’ll go to social events together. Which will mean being photographed together. Which will inevitably draw interest once they realise who you are...but we can spin it that after the wedding was called off, we met again and reconnected and a real relationship grew out of the ashes of the business deal.’

He was so cynical. ‘You sound like you have it figured out.’

He shrugged lightly. ‘We need to be prepared because the press interest will be intense. But I’ll make it clear that it has nothing to do with your uncle or mending any bridges.’

Flora felt a small pang for her uncle but then quashed it. He didn’t deserve her concern or sympathy. Her own father had moved away from Italy to get away from his brother, not liking his business methods, and the only reason Flora had ended up with him was because her parents obviously hadn’t expected that something so tragic as a fatal accident would befall them, and there had been no guardian mentioned in their will. Her uncle had been her only next of kin.

It was only in the last six months that his act of benevolence in taking her in had taken on much darker hues.

She forced her mind back to what Vito was saying. ‘So we’d just have to appear together...but won’t people know we’re not together when they see us? We’re not a couple.’

A gleam came into Vito’s eye. It made Flora’s skin feel suddenly tight and prickly. He said, ‘We’ll have to make it look like we’re a couple.’

‘How, exactly?’

Vito stood up and came around the desk. He held out a hand. Flora’s heart thumped. She looked at it suspiciously. Vito said, ‘It’s just a hand, Flora, it won’t bite you.’

No, maybe not. But the thought of putting her hand in his suddenly felt like a ridiculously audacious thing to do. She lifted her hand and slipped it into his palm. His fingers closed around hers and he pulled her up to standing.

Since when had he moved so close that their bodies were practically touching? All Flora could smell was him. Musky and woodsy and spicy. Masculine. She wanted to close her eyes and breathe deep. It was an effort not to do that.

She had to look up. He was so much taller than her. He made her feel incredibly petite. Delicate. He was looking at her. His gaze moving over her face, resting on her mouth. It tingled. She had to swallow. Her throat was dry.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked, trying to break the languor that was spreading through her body.

‘I’m showing you how we might have to...touch. Interact. To make people think we’re together.’

‘Oh.’ Flora’s brain didn’t seem to want to function.

‘You see,’ Vito was saying, ‘I don’t think we’ll have to pretend all that much.’

‘We won’t?’

He shook his head. He lifted his other hand and before Flora knew what he was doing, her hair was loosening from its confinement and falling around her shoulders. Vito was looking at her, running the long strands through his fingers. Flora felt as though she wanted to purr.

Then he said, ‘The truth is that I don’t think either of us will have to pretend.’

She lifted her gaze to his and her heart stopped at the look in his eyes. It was smouldering. This close she could see flecks of gold, like little fires.

He wanted her.

It hit her right in her solar plexus, and deep in her core. Between her legs a pulse throbbed, making her press her thighs together as if that could stem the damp, hot reaction.

She knew it was important to try and hang onto some dignity here. It must be so obvious that she fancied him and he was just a very good actor making her believe that he wanted her too because there was no way it could be real.

Vito tipped Flora’s chin up and his head lowered. Every part of her quivered with anticipation. And when that firm, sexy mouth touched hers, she knew in that instant she’d never be the same again. He was scorching her alive, from the inside out. She’d never felt anything like it.

His hands moved, cupping her face, holding her so that he could entice her to open up to him, which she did on a helpless sigh. And then the scorching became an inferno when his tongue touched hers.

Flora was lost in a swooning dizzy dance. Time had stopped and all that existed was how it felt to be kissed by this man, her whole body being set alight from between her legs to her breasts.

She didn’t even realise she was clutching his arms to remain standing until he pulled back for a moment. Oxygen got to her brain. She opened her eyes. She loosened her death grip on his biceps. Tried to make sense of what had just happened. Vito was watching her, eyes glittering.

There was a sound from the ground. A growling. Flora looked down to see Benji glaring up at Vito. She bent down and scooped him up, as much to do something with her trembling hands as anything else.

She took a step back and eventually said, ‘Wow. I mean, yes, okay, I see what you mean. That was...very convincing. If I didn’t know better I’d think that you did really want to kiss me. But then I’ve never been kissed before so I guess I wouldn’t really know the difference.’

He frowned. ‘I wasn’t trying to convince you of anything. I was kissing you for real. I do want you, Flora. The electricity between us is off the charts.’

Her belly swooped alarmingly and her legs felt weak. ‘I... Okay, that’s good, then, isn’t it?’

She sneaked a look at Vito. He was frowning. ‘Wait a second...you just said you’d never been kissed before... Are you innocent?’

Flora’s face burned. Benji was squirming in her arms so she put him down again—the traitor—and stood up. Of course Vito must have noticed her gauche inexperience, even if she hadn’t just admitted it.

There really was nothing to say except to admit the bald truth. ‘Yes, I’m a virgin, if that’s what you mean.’