you.’
He laughed very softly, his voice carrying above the chink of glasses at the open-air bar and the exotic sounds from a steel band playing further along the wharf.
It had still been light when he had brought her here, driving around the coast on narrow winding roads, between sensational white beaches and thickly forested hillsides to uncover this amazing rendezvous.
A Colonial-style bar, perfectly circular in structure, its tree-shaded tables and chairs were scattered along the waterfront, where sailboats bobbed on their moorings alongside catamarans and fishing boats and, further out, beyond the stretching arm of the jetty, several luxury yachts graced the silent waters of the lagoon. Across the other side of the lagoon, rising into the hills, were private mansions, set like jaw-dropping gems above the coastline.
When they had first arrived she had seen their spectacular walled gardens awash with colour, from the paper-like flowers of bougainvillaea varying from red and purple to magenta, to the heavy pink clusters of oleander and the white and yellow stars of the sweet-scented frangipani.
Now it was dark and the very air was humming with the song of crickets and tiny lizards. Lights glowed from the yachts, one of which—a monster of a thing—had come in while they had been sitting there, while lanterns spilled light down from the almond trees, casting leafy shadows over the couples seated at other tables and over the strong features of the man sitting opposite her.
‘If I owned a house here I’d never want to leave,’ Lauren expressed tremulously, drawing her hand from under his, although she could still feel the burn of his touch as tangibly as the warm wind that caressed her bare shoulders and the humidity that was teasing her loose hair into tendrils around her face.
‘Which is why I try to divide my time between my home in Italy and the one I have here,’ he informed her, accepting her nervous rejection and sitting back on his chair, ‘although I will probably be spending much more time in this part of the world from now on.’
He had told her two weeks ago that his company was taking over an ailing American cruise line and that being in the Caribbean meant that he could fly to the States and the hub of all the negotiations and activity and attend necessary meetings far more quickly than he could from Rome. A wry smile touched his mouth. ‘Do I take it from your obvious appreciation that you are not sorry you came?’
How could she be? Lauren thought, although telling him that would be one sure step towards lessening her resistance to him. And so, with a secretive little smile that she couldn’t have hidden even if she’d tried, she asked, changing the subject, ‘Did you ever want to do anything else besides run the company? Or was it always a foregone conclusion that you would?’
‘Always,’ he responded succinctly. ‘I was my father’s heir.’ His mouth compressed as though his thoughts had led him into some inner chamber of his mind to where Lauren definitely couldn’t follow. ‘Like your heir to the throne, I was schooled, educated and primed for that very purpose,’ he continued, but there was an edge to his voice that hadn’t been there a minute ago.
‘And not Angelo?’ Lauren asked, surprised.
‘No.’ His chest rose and fell steeply before he said, ‘Angelo was allowed to follow whatever path he chose.’
Which was a path of self-destruction, Lauren thought unhappily. In the end.
From the stark emotion that made his cheekbones stand out in the arresting structure of his face, it was clear Emiliano was thinking along the same lines.
‘And did you resent that?’
She wasn’t sure why she asked it, and the flicker of danger she read in his eyes made her suddenly fear she had spoken out of turn.
She was surprised, therefore, when he exhaled deeply and answered, ‘Yes. I resented it.’
‘But you were happy as a child?’ He wasn’t saying so, but some surfacing
He laughed very softly, his voice carrying above the chink of glasses at the open-air bar and the exotic sounds from a steel band playing further along the wharf.
It had still been light when he had brought her here, driving around the coast on narrow winding roads, between sensational white beaches and thickly forested hillsides to uncover this amazing rendezvous.
A Colonial-style bar, perfectly circular in structure, its tree-shaded tables and chairs were scattered along the waterfront, where sailboats bobbed on their moorings alongside catamarans and fishing boats and, further out, beyond the stretching arm of the jetty, several luxury yachts graced the silent waters of the lagoon. Across the other side of the lagoon, rising into the hills, were private mansions, set like jaw-dropping gems above the coastline.
When they had first arrived she had seen their spectacular walled gardens awash with colour, from the paper-like flowers of bougainvillaea varying from red and purple to magenta, to the heavy pink clusters of oleander and the white and yellow stars of the sweet-scented frangipani.
Now it was dark and the very air was humming with the song of crickets and tiny lizards. Lights glowed from the yachts, one of which—a monster of a thing—had come in while they had been sitting there, while lanterns spilled light down from the almond trees, casting leafy shadows over the couples seated at other tables and over the strong features of the man sitting opposite her.
‘If I owned a house here I’d never want to leave,’ Lauren expressed tremulously, drawing her hand from under his, although she could still feel the burn of his touch as tangibly as the warm wind that caressed her bare shoulders and the humidity that was teasing her loose hair into tendrils around her face.
‘Which is why I try to divide my time between my home in Italy and the one I have here,’ he informed her, accepting her nervous rejection and sitting back on his chair, ‘although I will probably be spending much more time in this part of the world from now on.’
He had told her two weeks ago that his company was taking over an ailing American cruise line and that being in the Caribbean meant that he could fly to the States and the hub of all the negotiations and activity and attend necessary meetings far more quickly than he could from Rome. A wry smile touched his mouth. ‘Do I take it from your obvious appreciation that you are not sorry you came?’
How could she be? Lauren thought, although telling him that would be one sure step towards lessening her resistance to him. And so, with a secretive little smile that she couldn’t have hidden even if she’d tried, she asked, changing the subject, ‘Did you ever want to do anything else besides run the company? Or was it always a foregone conclusion that you would?’
‘Always,’ he responded succinctly. ‘I was my father’s heir.’ His mouth compressed as though his thoughts had led him into some inner chamber of his mind to where Lauren definitely couldn’t follow. ‘Like your heir to the throne, I was schooled, educated and primed for that very purpose,’ he continued, but there was an edge to his voice that hadn’t been there a minute ago.
‘And not Angelo?’ Lauren asked, surprised.
‘No.’ His chest rose and fell steeply before he said, ‘Angelo was allowed to follow whatever path he chose.’
Which was a path of self-destruction, Lauren thought unhappily. In the end.
From the stark emotion that made his cheekbones stand out in the arresting structure of his face, it was clear Emiliano was thinking along the same lines.
‘And did you resent that?’
She wasn’t sure why she asked it, and the flicker of danger she read in his eyes made her suddenly fear she had spoken out of turn.
She was surprised, therefore, when he exhaled deeply and answered, ‘Yes. I resented it.’
‘But you were happy as a child?’ He wasn’t saying so, but some surfacing
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