CHAPTER SEVEN

W HEN F LORA WOKE it was bright daylight outside. She looked at her watch and jackknifed up to sitting. Lunchtime. Again. She’d never been so slovenly in her life.

And then she went still as several things registered. She wasn’t in her own room. She was in a very rumpled bed. Vito’s bed. She was naked. And she had a delicious feeling of languor running through her veins. As if she wanted to just lie back down and luxuriate in the feeling of having been so thoroughly...loved.

A little shiver went through her. It wasn’t love. It was just sex. Amazing sex. She’d never known it could be like that. So...all-encompassing. So transformative. She did feel transformed. As if her cells had been realigned and now she was a different verison of herself. A woman. Who had awoken to her sensuality.

But the thing that loomed largest in her head now was how considerate and gentle Vito had been. And not gentle. But that had been because she’d been urging him on, to stop taking such care.

Heat filled her face now as she remembered how at one point she’d bitten his shoulder. She’d bitten him. Like a mad thing. She buried her face in her hands and cringed.

‘What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Sore?’

A small bundle of fur landed beside Flora on the bed at the same time as she heard the voice. Benji. Her dog, who she was neglecting terribly, expecting everyone to take on her responsibility.

And Vito, standing in the doorway, dressed in dark trousers and a short-sleeved polo shirt, looking as if he’d just stepped out of Vogue Italia for men. She pulled the sheet up over her chest and drew her knees up, while scooping Benji up against her chest, like a shield. He licked her face.

She felt vulnerable and prickly. ‘You should have woken me. I should’ve been up, walking Benji and—’ She stopped.

Vito raised a brow. ‘And what? You don’t have anything to do. Relax.’

Before her life had imploded on that fateful wedding day she’d been busy running the palazzo for her uncle and aunt. And in the last six months she’d been in survival mode. She felt redundant. ‘I need to get a job.’

‘And I’m sure you will...but after last night I think we’re back to Plan A.’

‘Which is?’

‘Pretending we’re back together. I don’t think the PDA will be an issue now, do you?’

Flora wanted to scowl at his arrogant self-assurance even though she’d been the one who had all but seduced him!

‘I...yes, I guess so.’ She couldn’t very well say no, now, could she?

Vito glanced at his watch. ‘Sofia has prepared some brunch for you and then the glam team will be arriving.’

‘The glam team?’

Vito looked at her. ‘A stylist and her team of hair and make-up staff. We’ll be attending our first function this evening.’

‘This evening!’ Flora squeaked.

Vito looked at her. ‘You’ve been to social events before.’

Flora shook her head. ‘Not really, not outside my uncle’s palazzo. He didn’t really approve of me attending events that weren’t hosted by him.’

Vito was silent for a long moment. ‘Did he ever let you out of that palazzo?’

Flora said, ‘Of course, I was free to come and go. I’d go to the market with the housekeeper. Or when they were away that’s when I’d go out to museums and art galleries.’

‘You didn’t meet with friends? Go to parties?’

Flora felt self-conscious. ‘Not really.’ Never. She confided reluctantly, ‘I had no friends. Like I told you, I was home-schooled.’

Vito came into the bedroom. ‘Have you ever left Italy?’

Flora shook her head. ‘No. Not since I came here from London after my parents and younger brother, Charlie, died.’

Vito’s eyes widened. A look of pure disgust came over his face. ‘That man kept you locked up like Cinderella. All you were missing was two evil stepsisters.’

Flora found it hard to breathe for a moment. She’d never had anyone else evaluate the life she’d taken for granted before. And the loyalty and obligation she’d felt to her uncle was still there, like a scar.

‘I can’t really complain. I had a roof over my head—I lived in a beautiful palazzo. I got my education.’

Vito made a rude sound. ‘That palazzo was like something out of a nineteen-fifties film set, straight out of the Cinecittà movie studios.’

A surprised laugh at Vito’s accurate assessment came out of Flora before she could stop it. She put her hand over her mouth.

But still, the impulse to be loyal made her say, ‘I think my uncle just appreciated another era.’

Vito snorted. ‘He appreciated not spending money on anything but creating misery, more to the point.’

Flora sobered. Vito was right. She’d always known her uncle kept her all but locked up, but she’d convinced herself it had been for her protection and security. Now she could understand that he’d done it so that she wouldn’t leave before he could get his hands on her inheritance.

The sense of years spent locked out of the world suddenly made her appreciate what was happening here now with Vito. She was being awoken in more ways than one. She felt a sense of urgency. ‘What time is the glam team coming?’

‘Three o’clock.’

‘And what time do you have to go to the office?’

‘About half an hour ago.’

Flora summoned up all of her courage and threw back the cover and stood up from the bed. Naked.

‘Well, then,’ she said, ‘as you’re already late, what does another half-hour matter?’

Vito’s face flushed and his eyes narrowed on her body. For a moment she imagined Vito leaving her standing there, walking away, but then he scooped up Benji, who had trotted over to smell his feet, efficiently put the dog out of the room, closed the door and stalked towards Flora, shedding clothes as he did.

By the time he reached her he was naked. His body gleamed in the sunlight flooding into the room and Flora took her opportunity to really look at him, marvelling at his sheer perfection.

‘Keep looking at me like that and we’ll be here until tomorrow.’ Vito growled, reaching for her, and placing his hands on her waist. She was pressed up against him and she quivered all over at the contact. His erection pressing against her lower belly.

Breathless, she looked up and said, ‘And that’d be a bad thing because...?’

Vito took a skein of her hair and wrapped it around his hand. He said, ‘Because I have every intention of showing you off this evening and making sure everyone can see the jewel that has been locked away for too long.’

Emotion caught at Flora before she could stop it. Making her chest tight. In a bid to defuse it and distract Vito from just how seismic his words were to her, Flora reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck and then they were falling back onto the bed in a tangle of limbs and sighs and murmurs that grew more frantic and desperate as they lost themselves in each other again.

Flora was looking at herself suspiciously in the mirror. Even Benji was looking at her suspiciously. With his one good eye. Flora said reproachfully to his reflection in the mirror, where he was sitting on the bed behind her, ‘It is still me, Ben.’

She sniffed her wrist where the stylist had instructed her to spray some perfume. It was heady—musky rose and something lighter. She liked it even if it didn’t feel remotely like her. Maybe it was the scent putting him off.

Because visually, she was almost unrecognisable. Flora had never had a fantasy of being transformed like Cinderella, but if she had...she was living it right now.

The stylist and her team had just left and finally Flora was able to take in the magnitude of what they’d been working on all afternoon. She blushed, thinking of how when she and Vito had emerged from the bedroom after a couple of hours indulging in exploring each other with a thoroughness that had left Flora limp with an overload of pleasure—the glam team had been waiting for her.

Flora had felt like a naughty child caught playing truant. Vito had left her in the hands of the team, but not before she’d heard him instructing the stylist, ‘Under no circumstances is her hair to be straightened.’ That had caused another rush of emotion to Flora’s chest, making her feel as if a layer of skin had been removed, exposing vulnerabilities she’d pushed down for a long time.

But then Vito had left and she’d been sucked into a whirlwind of having her hair trimmed and styled, nails manicured, a facial, her entire body measured to within an inch of its life, all leading to this...vision in the mirror.

The dress was a very pale pink blush colour, strapless and cut across her chest to reveal more cleavage than Flora was comfortable with, but the stylist had assured her it was not too revealing. The bodice was tight and then from her waist the dress fell to the floor in whimsical layers of silk and chiffon.

It was deceptively simple and Flora could barely feel it when she moved. As if it were made of air.

She wore a simple diamond choker and a diamond cocktail ring on her index finger. Diamond stud earrings.

Her hair had been styled in such a way that it was still natural but a little more tamed. The hairdresser had left her some products, telling her they would work miracles. It had been pulled back on one side and held in place with a diamond clip and then teased to flow over the other bare shoulder.

Her make-up was minimal, much to Flora’s relief. Or, to be more accurate, she’d been made up to look as if she were wearing very little. Some dusky shimmery blush colour on her eyes, lashes long and black. Eyebrows plucked and shaped. Blush on her cheeks. Her mouth looked plumper—as if she’d just been kissed. She was tempted to find a tissue to make it look less...provocative but then she heard a sound coming from the doorway and turned around.

Vito.

Flora instantly forgot her preoccupation with herself. Vito was wearing a tuxedo. She’d seen him in a tuxedo just a couple of nights ago but that had been unexpected and she’d been too distracted to really appreciate the full effect.

But now he was in front of her and she was going to be going out with him and pretending that they were together as a couple...suddenly it was all a bit overwhelming.

Vito frowned. ‘What is it? You’ve gone white.’ He was beside her and guiding her to a stool nearby, making her sit down before she could protest. In truth her legs had turned to jelly. The impact of him in the tuxedo, what had happened between them in the last twenty-four hours, added to the sense of overwhelm.

Flora struggled to get air to her brain. Her heart. Vito smelled delicious, which only scrambled her brain cells even more.

Vito handed her a glass of water. Flora took a gulp. She handed it back. Looked up. ‘I don’t know if I can do this.’

Vito was putting the glass down. ‘Do what?’

‘Go out with you.’ She shook her head. ‘I know people think that I come from this very privileged background, but you know that’s not the case. I’ve never really been to a society event. That’s one of the reasons why there were so many people at the wedding that day, because most of them just wanted to gawk at me.’

Vito’s jaw clenched. ‘Flora, if I’d thought for a second about how that day was really going to impact you—’

She waved a hand. ‘It’s not your fault. How could you have known?’

Vito took a step back and held out a hand. ‘Come here.’

Reluctantly Flora put her hand in his and let him pull her up. He put his hands on her shoulders and she felt the zing of electricity all the way to between her legs. Her body was like a finely tuned instrument around this man. She could only hope that he felt a smidgeon of what she was feeling but it was unlikely, he was so much more experienced.

He turned her to face the mirror. ‘Look at yourself.’

Flora resisted telling him that was exactly what she’d just been doing and what had led to this minor attack of nerves. She looked at him. The first thing she noticed was how tall he was behind her. And his hands, on her shoulders. His skin so much darker than hers.

‘Not at me,’ he scolded. ‘At you.’

Flora rolled her eyes but then did as he asked. He pulled her back against him and she could feel his chest rumble against her back when he spoke. ‘You are beautiful, Flora. And I’m ashamed to admit that I was so blinded by your uncle that I didn’t notice it properly until you arrived in my office the day of the wedding.’

Flora’s gaze met his. Her heart flipped. She felt shy now. ‘I noticed you...as soon as I saw you.’

‘When you were hiding in the shadows.’

That impacted Flora in a very deep place where she harboured her worst fears and insecurities. ‘You were very intimidating.’

‘If I had not been so consumed with revenge, I would have noticed you more and maybe things would have been...different.’

Flora gave a little snort. ‘You still wouldn’t have married me.’

‘No, of course not. I’m never getting married. But maybe...we would have realised this mutual desire a lot earlier.’

Flora shook her head and stepped out from under his hands, facing him. ‘No, you hated him too much to be associated with anyone close to him.’

Vito looked at her broodingly. ‘Perhaps.’

‘Anyway,’ Flora said, ‘I’m glad things worked out the way they did. All ties were finally cut with my uncle and I found my freedom and independence, and I’m never giving it up for anyone again.’

But you’d consider it for this man.

That revelation gave her a jolt. On no planet was it likely that she and this man would be anything more than a fleeting interlude. For whatever reason he fancied her right now, but she was sure it wouldn’t last long and he wouldn’t keep indulging her like this. His guilt would be assuaged and he’d be moving on to the next woman.

And that was okay. Flora wasn’t even sure where she really saw herself, or what she wanted long-term. Her uncle had kept her so confined that she was just enjoying her independence and feeling young and free.

And enjoying Vito , a little devil prompted.

Vito looked at her and saw the heat coming into her face before she could stop it. He said approvingly, ‘That’s good, you’ve got a little colour again.’

Terrified he’d see just how much that was down to him, Flora said, ‘We should probably go?’

Thankfully Vito didn’t argue or say anything else. He led her out of the room and Flora made sure to install Benji in the kitchen area with his bed and treats, before they went down to the ground level where his driver was waiting.

In the car, as it moved through the traffic, Flora thought of the way Vito had so summarily declared he wasn’t going to have a family. She turned to him. ‘If you really have no intention of marrying or having a family, then what’s all this for, if not to leave a legacy to pass down?’ She put out a hand to encompass the city beyond the car.

Vito shook his head, supremely unconcerned. ‘I don’t need a family to leave a legacy. I lost the only family I ever had and I have no intention of living my life in fear that it’ll disappear again. My father’s name will endure, I’ve made sure of that.’

Flora’s heart squeezed. She could understand that sentiment, after losing her own family. But she got distracted from pursuing that line of conversation when she saw where they were going. One of Rome’s most iconic buildings that housed a venerated museum. It was hosting an event that evening to celebrate a new exhibition with all proceeds from the VIP guest tickets going to charities.

She saw the glittering crowd entering the building, and the sense of panic and overwhelm came back with a vengeance. She couldn’t see one woman with her hair down. They were all wearing complicated up-dos and their hair was sleek and shiny.

Flora gripped Vito’s hand. ‘My hair, Vito, it’s too untidy. We should have put it up.’

He looked at her and his mouth quirked. ‘Nonsense, you’ll be a sensation.’

Flora felt queasy. She didn’t want to be a sensation, she wanted to just slip into the crowd and not be noticed and then leave again. But now the car was stopping and Vito was getting out, straightening his jacket and coming around to open her door and putting out a hand. Too late to turn back. She’d set this chain of events in motion when she’d tried to sneak out of his apartment last night looking to find someone to relieve her of her innocence.

And she hadn’t failed. Her skin got hot at the memory of what had happened. She’d had a driving force to be with this man in spite of any obstacles like her virginity, and so now she had to fulfil her part in this arrangement.

Flora let Vito pull her out of the car. Her dress fell around her legs in soft folds. She took a deep breath.

‘Ready?’

She nodded, mentally steeling herself for the experience.

What she was unprepared for were the photographers lined up along the red-carpeted steps, calling out, ‘Vito! Over here! Who is your date, please?’

They didn’t recognise her. The same photographers who had been outside the church waiting for her to emerge after the humiliation of being stood up didn’t recognise her. On that wedding day the priest had been kind enough to let her out of a back entrance where he’d had one of the church staff in a car waiting for her.

Her uncle and aunt had just cast her off. She’d had nowhere to go...and in that moment she’d been so angry and humiliated that she’d directed the driver to take her to the only place she could think of. Vito’s office. She hadn’t even known if he’d be there, but he had been. As if it were a normal working day. Adding insult to injury.

‘Vito, who’s your date?’

Vito squeezed Flora’s hand before saying, ‘Don’t you recognise Flora Gavia?’

There was a moment of almost comically hushed silence and then it was pandemonium with shouting and flashing lights, but Vito managed to get them to the top of the steps and into the foyer of the museum before Flora could absorb the enormity of what had just happened. Vittorio Vitale declaring publicly that he was back with his jilted bride-to-be.

She looked around. Guests were being funnelled up a wide central marble staircase. She’d been to this museum when it was open during the day. Not at night, like this, when it had been transformed. A massive crystal chandelier was overhead, emitting a golden light. Flowers adorned every space, and all along either side of the staircase, sending out heady scents.

The medieval frescoes on the ceiling almost paled in comparison. Flora was so busy looking up that she collided into Vito’s back when he stopped. He looked at her and she mumbled, ‘Sorry.’

They were on the first level now and being directed into a massive ballroom, or, as Flora knew it, one of the museum’s vast rooms, usually stuffed with artefacts from ancient Roman times. That had all been cleared out and now this room was full of Rome’s high society being served by waiters wearing black and white. Much as Flora had been doing, not so long ago.

Vito took two glasses of champagne from a tray and handed her one. She took a sip, wrinkling her nose at the bubbles. Golden lighting imbued everyone and everything with a kind of celestial glow. French doors were open onto a wide terrace, which she knew overlooked beautiful landscaped gardens.

‘You’ve been here before?’ Vito asked her.

‘Of course...with my tutor for schoolwork. Not like this. Although,’ she amended then, ‘when I was older, finished with schoolwork, I loved coming to the gardens. There’s a cafe and you can sit for hours watching people come and go.’

‘I’m surprised your uncle gave you the freedom to do that.’ Vito’s tone was dry.

‘Well, he didn’t. I did it when they were away on business or travelling.’ Flora felt self-conscious now. ‘You must think I was very weak to let him have such a hold over me.’

Flora sneaked a look at Vito but he was shaking his head. ‘Not at all. I think it must have taken immense courage and fortitude to withstand that hostile environment and emerge with such a forgiving nature.’

Flora felt a glow inside her. But before she could respond to Vito’s comment, they were being interrupted by what turned into a long line of people vying for Vito’s attention, and all sending Flora more than curious glances.

She heard someone say nearby in a loud whisper, ‘Is it really her? I don’t think so...she wasn’t that pretty.’

Vito must have heard it too because he wrapped an arm around Flora’s waist and turned to face the person behind the whisper. Two women, whose faces went pink. Vito said cordially to one of them, ‘Ah, Contessa, I do believe you must know Flora Gavia?’

The woman smiled but it wasn’t friendly. She didn’t like being caught out. She put out a hand. ‘Of course, Miss Gavia, how nice. I dined at your uncle’s palazzo many times. How is he?’

Flora took her hand and shook it firmly and said with a bright smile, ‘I have no idea. I’m sure that, wherever he is, he’s up to no good.’

She heard a stifled snort next to her but didn’t look at Vito. When he’d recovered himself he said, ‘If you’ll excuse us, Contessa?’ and he smoothly guided Flora away and they went out onto the terrace.

When they were outside he let out a proper laugh and Flora smiled ruefully. He put his hand on the terrace wall. Fairy lights strung between trees in the garden made the space look like a magical wonderland.

He said, ‘I don’t think I’ll have to worry about you handling yourself with the vultures.’

Flora shrugged. ‘They never scared me. They’re just snobs.’

Vito turned to face her, with his back to the wall. ‘What does scare you?’

Flora knew exactly what scared her. But she was reluctant to divulge it to Vito. But then she thought, he now knew her more intimately than anyone else... She looked at him. ‘I’m scared of being invisible.’

He didn’t say anything for a long moment and then he glanced over her head behind them and said, ‘I don’t think that’s something you’ll have to worry about any more.’

She looked behind her to see most of the crowd gawking at them. She blushed. She wanted to bury her head in Vito’s chest and that surprised her. Since when had he become a safe harbour?

‘They’re just bored and looking for a scandal.’

Vito reached for her and pulled her close. She fell into him with a muted swish of layers of fabric. He was tall and solid. Hard. Flora’s blush got hotter.

He said, ‘Then let’s give them what they want, hm?’

And then he kissed her, blocking everything out, including the fact that she’d just revealed to him her worst fear, cultivated after growing up in a house with people who hadn’t seen her. Who’d all but stepped over her.

It had been a long time since she’d felt noticed or seen and the fact that it was happening here with the sworn enemy of her family was too much to get her head around right now. So she pushed it aside and revelled in Vito’s desire, because she was aware of another fear developing—the moment when he would look at her and not see her or want her any more.

Hours later, in Vito’s bed, Vito was somewhere between waking and sleeping. Flora was a soft and delicious weight against him, one leg thrown over his thighs. He waited for a feeling of claustrophobia. It didn’t come. Only the hunger.

They certainly had caused a stir earlier that evening. Flora had captivated the crowd in a way that had taken even him by surprise. Not because he’d underestimated her beauty but because he could see how her innate goodness shone out and took people unawares.

She’d defused the cynicism in the room without even opening her mouth. It had evoked something in him that he hadn’t ever felt with a woman before. A need to protect. Against the women who would chew her up and spit her out so fast her head would be spinning and the men who wanted her.

So, actually, Vito had felt two things. Protective and possessive.

His mind cast around desperately for reasons why she evoked these things in him.

It was the guilt.

He felt a sense of relief. That was it. The guilt he carried for having sent her out to the streets. Even though she didn’t hold him accountable. He’d almost prefer it if she did.

Earlier, on their way back to his apartment, in the car, she’d asked him, ‘So what is it that scares you? Not much, I’d imagine.’

Vito had instinctively felt the need to close up, shut down the conversation, but then he’d recalled her fear of being invisible and how that had struck him deep. He’d felt something similar when his parents had died and he’d suddenly been on his own in the world, without a family. With nothing but his name and the clothes on his back. And revenge in his heart. Having to somehow resurrect himself from the pit of grief and loss.

He’d felt her looking at him with those big gold-flecked eyes. So he’d admitted it, that his fear was of losing everything. Again.

She’d said, ‘That’s why you don’t want a family?’

Vito had countered, ‘That’s why I choose to focus on my business because no matter what happens, even if I lost it all tomorrow... I won’t be destroyed. Things and businesses can be rebuilt, people can’t.’

He’d looked at her then, her face in shadow. He’d asked, ‘Do you remember your family at all?’

She’d shaken her head. ‘No, not that much. I was very young.’

Vito wasn’t sure he entirely believed her but he wasn’t about to delve into any more personal territory. He was only interested in the physical. Not the emotional or psychological. When they had arrived back at the apartment Vito had taken Benji from Flora and said, ‘I’ll take him out, you get ready for bed. My bed.’

When he’d arrived back and gone into his bedroom he’d seen the evening gown carefully draped over a chair and the jewellery neatly lined up on the dresser. Something about that had caught at him, which had annoyed him.

He hadn’t been able to see Flora. But then the curtain by the French doors had moved and he’d gone over to see her standing with her arms on the wall, in a robe, bare feet. Not waiting for him seductively in the bed, like another lover. But here, enjoying the view. That little clutch at his chest again...

Flora moved now beside him in the bed, bringing him back from the ledge of his thoughts. She slid a hand across his chest, nails snagging on a nipple. Vito sucked in a breath. Even now, he felt the impulse to put some distance between them, to send her back to her own bed, to set boundaries...but now her mouth was on his skin and he felt the wet heat of her tongue and the impulse died a fiery death.

She knew where he stood, he’d told her in no uncertain terms there was no possibility of a long-term relationship with him, so why not let the boundaries blur and enjoy the moment?

He drew her up and over him, so her entire body lay over his, breasts against his chest. He could feel the scrape of her nipples. Her hair fell around them in a wild curtain of waves and curls. She looked sleepy but delicious.

He said, ‘Open your legs.’

She did, her thighs going either side of his hips. With his hands and mouth and then his whole body, he brought them to the edge and back countless times, until their skin was slick and Flora was begging incoherently for release, and only then did he thrust so deep that they both fell together in a cataclysm of pleasure so intense that any sense of control Vito had wielded for those brief moments while staving off this pleasure felt like a very hollow victory.