A WHOLE DAY passed in a blur of sun, swimming and sleep by the pool while Mauro caught up with some business on the island, and he still hadn’t appeared by the time she decided to turn in for the night. But the next day she was aware of him before she was even out of bed: she awoke to the rhythmic swish-swish of a powerful swimmer in the pool. As the glass wall of her bedroom concertinaed open, the briefest hesitation in his stroke told her that he’d heard her, and he slowed to a halt at the end of the lap, before crossing to the side of the pool nearest her room with a lazy backstroke.
‘Morning, sleepyhead.’
He was right—she could tell from the warmth of the tiles beneath her feet that she’d slept later than she’d planned. Must be all the sun, she reasoned. She rarely slept past six at home, was in the pool by seven and the office by eight. Judging from the hungry ache in her belly it must be nearly nine now. Long past her habitual breakfast of toast and black coffee.
‘Sorry, I did wait for you, but I needed to make a start on my laps.’
‘No, my fault.’ She dropped to sit by the side of the pool, pulling her robe tight around her swimsuit while she let her feet play in the water. ‘I can’t believe I slept so late.’
Mauro placed an elbow either side of her knees. Her instinct was to pull away—but his hand brushed against her calf, and she found herself incapable of moving. Or perhaps...perhaps that was an excuse. Perhaps she wanted to stay right where she was, testing her limits, her resolve.
‘I must have worn you out on the jet ski,’ Mauro said with a roguish grin. ‘Was one lazy day not enough? Should I have gone easy on you?’
‘Never.’ She smiled, but faltered when Mauro’s hand dropped to her ankle, absent-mindedly caressing the delicate bones, and then found the sole of her foot with his thumb. Just...there. There was her limit. She pushed him away gently with her free foot.
‘Right,’ he said, raising an eyebrow. ‘Where’s the fun in holding back?’
She rolled her eyes at his obvious double meaning.
‘So are you getting in the pool?’ he asked. ‘We can work on those turns some more.’
Did she want to be barely clothed, in close proximity, with him watching her every move... A dropping sensation in her tummy told her that that was a very bad idea. But he was a medal-winning athlete, offering to help her. It could be just professional interest. She looked down and met his eye, and knew instantly that there was nothing professional about what he was thinking. But she couldn’t resist the lure of the cool water, the slight smell of salt in the air, the chance to stretch her limbs and loosen her joints.
She started to untie the belt of her robe but Mauro’s eyes on her stopped her dead. It was bad enough that he was going to see her in her swimsuit again; she couldn’t bear to have him watch her with that quiet intensity while she undressed.
‘Erm...any chance of some privacy, Mauro?’
She tried to keep the words light, but suspected that the shake of her voice had given her away.
‘Privacy? You have your suit on, don’t you? There’s not going to be anything I haven’t seen before, you know.’
She’d expected flirtatious, playful Mauro, but instead his face was serious as he regarded her through narrow eyes. ‘You didn’t like that the camera caught you in your swimsuit the other day either.’
She laughed, but it sounded brittle.
‘Who wants to be on telly in their underwear?’
‘Well, plenty of people don’t seem to mind too much, from what I’ve seen. But... I don’t know. I just feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.’
‘Mauro, there’s a million things I haven’t told you. You barely know me. Come on, I thought you were going to help me with these turns again.’
She shrugged off her robe and his questions and slipped into the water. She swam half a length under the surface, letting the water muffle the outside word. Only when her lungs were screaming for air did she finally surface, opening her eyes to see Mauro just a couple of metres ahead of her.
She took a deep breath before she turned, aware in every part of her body of Mauro waiting at the end of the lap, his eyes following the movement of every limb. She’d never felt more exposed, more vulnerable, in front of him.
Pushing away from the wall, her body was strong and straight, and she swam another couple of laps, letting the familiar rhythm of her front crawl wipe away her tension at Mauro’s question. It wasn’t what he’d asked—it was why he’d asked it. He must have seen something, worked out some of her past to make him wonder.
The next time she reached the end of the pool where Mauro was waiting, he reached out to her, his hand just brushing against her arm.
She pulled up, resting her arms on the side of the pool. She hadn’t realised until she stopped and found herself out of breath that she’d been going at sprinting pace, swimming faster and faster to try and slow the racing of her mind.
‘It’s looking really good,’ Mauro said, in response to her raised eyebrow. ‘Even better than when we worked on it before.’
‘You stopped me to tell me that?’
‘Is that not OK?’
‘I thought this was a training session.’ That was how she’d talked herself into this, after all.
‘OK...’ He gave her a shrewd look. ‘Let’s get to work, then. This time, I want to see those arms dead straight before you push off.’
As she neared the wall again, she glanced ahead to gauge her approach, trying to time it to the perfect arm’s reach. She exhaled through her nose as she somersaulted, curling her knees into her chest. Just as she tensed her legs to power into the start of another lap, she felt a heavy pressure on her waist, immobilising her. Her eyes flew open in surprise, until her gaze rested on Mauro, holding onto the side of the pool with one arm, the other curled around her.
‘It’s OK—it’s me,’ he said, as if anyone else could have that effect on her body.
He’d misinterpreted her reaction: it wasn’t panic making her suddenly breathless. It was the heat of his arm on her waist, burning into her skin where the suit was cut out at the back. It was the way he was supporting her whole body in the water, the way that her muscles had relaxed into his care, her body trusting him completely even if her mind wouldn’t.
‘I wanted to show you...’ His voice trailed off, but she didn’t move. Didn’t uncoil her body, didn’t seek the safety of the floor of the pool. ‘You could tuck in a bit tighter, and straighten...’
His fingers brushed the inside of her arm, the oh-so-sensitive skin just above her elbow, barely a whisper of a touch. But it was enough to unravel her practised poise, until her toes were drifting down towards the glassy mosaic tiles at the bottom of the pool, her body was seeking the touch of his, and her arm—where the fine hairs were still erect from the touch of Mauro’s hand—was draping itself loosely around his shoulders.
‘Tighter,’ Mauro said, and she wrapped both arms around him, testing how it felt to follow his commands—and her desires—without trying to rationalise.
He spun suddenly in the water, trapping her against the rough wall of the pool, his forearms braced either side of her: holding her, protecting her. When she met his eyes, it was to find that she was already half drowning in him. But where she was water, he was fire; the heat in his eyes was unmistakable, and directed solely at her.
‘Amber...’ Mauro began, but his voice trailed off as he broke their gaze, and he moved closer, until she couldn’t resist closing her eyes in anticipation. She waited for his lips to meet hers. Instead of soft pressure of skin on skin, warm breath tickled behind her ear, and his nose nudged her hair aside. In a voice barely more than a whisper, he spoke in her ear. ‘Amber, you’re so beautiful.’
Instantly she stiffened. ‘Don’t. Don’t say things like that.’ She ducked under his arm, away from the spell he had cast over her.
‘Like what?’ Mauro asked, his expression punch drunk as he twisted around to face her.
She turned and swam, pushing her anger through her muscles until she was powering through the water.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked when she stopped to catch her breath.
‘Nothing.’ Nothing that she wanted to discuss with him at any rate. It was safer if they just forgot about this. If they pretended that that hadn’t just happened. Surely he could understand. She turned and started another lap, but he was ahead of her before they were halfway across the pool. She didn’t want to know how much of a head start he’d given her.
‘Why?’ he asked as she caught up with him.
Instead of answering, she took a deep breath and performed a tumble turn. After Mauro’s coaching, she barely made a splash. But a strong hand touched at her ankle. It was for only a second, but long enough to break her rhythm. She whirled around.
‘For God’s sake, Mauro. Just let me swim!’
‘Why are you angry that I paid you a compliment?’
‘I’m not angry.’
‘Then what?’ he asked, genuine bewilderment showing on his face. ‘Can’t you at least be honest with me? I don’t know what happened back there. I don’t even know what I wanted to happen. But I know that I hurt you, somehow, and I want to know what I did so that I don’t do it again. I’m not looking to cause you pain, Amber.’
She sighed, shaking her head. ‘I’m not angry that you complimented me, Mauro. I’m angry that you lied to me.’
‘When? When did I lie?’ he asked.
‘You called me beautiful. And I know that that’s not me. So don’t do it. Please. Don’t flirt just because you think that you should. Or because you can’t help it. It makes me feel crappy, and it’s not going to get you anywhere.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, with a shrug of his shoulders as he leaned back against the side of the pool, but the apology was just as much a reflex as the compliment had been. ‘I didn’t mean anything by it.’
‘And that’s the point, isn’t it? It didn’t matter who you were saying it to. It could have been anyone. I bet you’ve used that line a dozen times before, haven’t you?’
‘Amber, I think you’re being—’
‘I’m sorry, Mauro, I need to get showered.’
She boosted out of the pool and walked away, knowing that she was running because she was scared, because she was disappointed in him and in herself. And knowing that she was being unfair by walking out before they could finish their conversation.
By the time Mauro came into the house from the pool, she was showered, caffeinated, and had regained some of her composure.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, as he wheeled into the living space where she was sitting with an espresso and the English newspapers.
He shrugged. ‘No need to apologise. But, you know, I’ve given it some thought,’ he said. ‘And I honestly think you’re a very beautiful woman.’
‘Well, OK...’ Amber said with a small smile. ‘As long as you’ve thought about it.’
* * *
‘Oh, my goodness. You look like a...like a goddess,’ Mauro said, when she emerged from the bathroom later that afternoon. Had he learned nothing from their conversation? There was something Grecian about the dress that she’d chosen for their tour of the winery, and the formal dinner tonight. Pleated silk swept down from an empire line almost to the floor, and a cleverly cut neckline balanced out her swimmer’s shoulders. She’d assessed the result in the mirror before she had left the room. Acceptable, yes. Maybe even attractive, which—given the cost of the dress and the cosmetics, all courtesy of Ayisha—was the very least she could have hoped for.
But a goddess?
‘Don’t,’ she warned.
They had walked on eggshells that morning after their argument in the pool, and she didn’t want to spoil the entente that they were delicately balancing by rehashing it.
‘I thought about it before I said it, I swear.’
She shook her head as they walked out of the villa and towards the waiting car. ‘Please—I don’t want an argument. I just want you to cut the bull,’ she said as she slid into the car beside him and pulled the door shut, lowering her voice, though she wasn’t sure if the driver could understand English. ‘I know that this whole week is a weird, fake scenario. We keep trying to pretend that nothing is happening, but I’m not sure how successful we’re being. And just when I think that we’re starting to understand each other you go and spoil it by spinning all this rubbish about how beautiful you think I am.’
‘Why is it rubbish?’ he asked. ‘Why am I not allowed to think it’s true? I’m not playing games, Amber. I’m not telling you you’re beautiful because I want something, or because I think you want something. I’m just trying to be honest.’
She rubbed her forehead with the palm of her hand, squeezing her eyes tight. ‘But I know I’m not beautiful, Mauro, so every time you say that to me, it’s like a shot of iced water down my back.’
‘Oh, you know you’re not beautiful, therefore my opinion isn’t valid.’ His voice was irritatingly calm as the driver eased the car around a series of curves in the road. ‘I’m sorry, Amber, but it doesn’t work like that. I’m afraid I get to decide for myself whether I think you’re beautiful, and I do.’
‘But I’m not.’ Her voice broke as the tears that had been threatening all day finally came through. ‘If you think I am it’s because I’ve just spent an hour applying every lotion and cosmetic that Ayisha could find in Palermo when she realised I didn’t have any of my own. This isn’t some sort of false modesty. I scrub up all right, that’s what Ian used to say to me. I can look half-decent if I put enough time and effort in. But we both know I’m not beautiful, so just cut it out.’
‘Ian.’ He was quiet for a long, thoughtful minute. ‘Your ex?’
Stupid—she hadn’t even meant to mention him. The last thing she wanted was to dissect her disaster of a relationship with Mauro, but from the determined look on his face she guessed that he had other ideas.
‘He never told you you’re beautiful?’
She rested her elbow on the car door, and let her head rest against her hand, losing the energy to be angry. ‘Please just leave it. I don’t want to talk about him.’
‘Fine, we won’t talk about him. We’ll talk about you, and how you’ve got to the ripe old age of whatever you are without being able to take a compliment. This Ian, what else did he say?’
She turned to look out of the window, at a sky that was just turning pink. ‘I’m not going to talk about it, Mauro, so we can just drop this.’
‘So it wasn’t what he said, was it? It was what he did. What was it? Did he cheat?’
At that, another tear escaped the corner of her eye as she fought a losing battle with herself.
‘Yes, he cheated.’ She turned back to him and fixed him with a stare. He met her gaze, and she read pity there. She didn’t want him to feel sorry for her, but if he insisted on the whole sordid story, then fine. He could have it. Maybe that would be enough to put an end to his flirtation. To the temptation she was finding harder and harder to resist. ‘Is that what you want to hear? He cheated and he left me, and he cleared out our bank accounts and sold my house from under me before he went. It wasn’t enough to break my heart. He had to take my home and practically everything that I owned as well. And that is why I’m not in the least interested in a relationship, Mauro. I’ve taken just about as much heartbreak as a person can, and I’m not stupid enough to get involved with someone else, especially someone who is as proud of you to love women and then leave them.’
‘Whoa, a relationship? Involved? Who mentioned involved?’
‘The flirting, Mauro. The compliments. The attention. I know you’re just trying to get me into bed.’
He stayed silent as they pulled through a pair of magnificent gates and wound up the road towards a castle of warm yellow stone. Silent while the car stopped in front of a magnificent wooden door. Silent until they spotted their hostess waiting for them in a stone archway.
Mauro looked across at her, his face hard and unreadable. ‘She’ll wait.’ His tone said, We will finish this conversation, as clearly as if he’d spoken the words out loud. ‘I have not been trying to get you into bed. That’s the very last thing I want, actually.’ His words felt like a slap to the face, and she knew that the hurt must have shown in her expression. ‘No, not because... You’re beautiful, Amber. And sexy, and yes, a goddess. I’m not going to take that back. I mean it. But that doesn’t mean I think we should be involved. I don’t have space in my life for a relationship; you don’t want something casual. It would never work. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t believe me when I tell you how goddamn desirable you are.’
He said it with such sincerity and passion that she couldn’t help one corner of her mouth turning up in a half-smile.
‘That’s better,’ he said, swiping at her tear with his thumb and reaching for her hand. ‘I’m sorry if my compliments upset you. I honestly didn’t mean them to. I’ll try harder to stop, if they make you uncomfortable. We can be friendly, can’t we? We have our week-long first date, with a national audience along as chaperones; we smile pretty for the cameras come December, and then we get back to real life. Every now and then we’ll think back to the completely strange week that we had here. You meet Mr Right, settle down and have a dozen beautiful children; I’ll continue to have my fun and grow old disgracefully.’
‘I’ll think about it,’ she said. And then, because she couldn’t help herself, she leaned forward and brushed the gentlest, briefest of kisses on Mauro’s cheek.
* * *
Late in the evening, after they’d feasted on the local foods and sampled plenty of Castello Vigneto’s wines, Amber took another sip of the rich, deep vino rosso that she was sampling and let her eyes drift closed so that she could concentrate on the sheer joy of it. Dinner had been magnificent, the vineyard both beautiful and impressive, and the fruits of their host’s labours was like nectar.
And the help of a little Dutch courage, or Sicilian courage she supposed, was very, very welcome. Because she strongly suspected that she still owed Mauro an apology.
She looked longingly at the wine left in the bottle, and, for just a minute, could imagine the delicious, empty oblivion it would bring if she downed the lot. But her problems would still be there when she sobered up. She was staying in his house, after all—and somehow she didn’t think that a monster headache would help their situation. She rubbed at her temples, hoping for a quick fix for the tightness behind her eyes. Nope. Nothing but an apology was going to ease it.
Mauro had disappeared with Fabrizia, their hostess, ten minutes ago. Apparently she had a painting that she thought he might be interested in buying, and Amber had wandered away to sit with her thoughts and her wine as they’d negotiated in rapid-fire Italian that she had found impossible to follow.
She crossed the room to go in search of them, but she drew up short in the shadow of the doorway at the sound of Fabrizia’s voice, no longer the rattle of a negotiator, but a seductive drawl that was recognisable in any language. Amber peered out of the doorway and saw Fabrizia leaning close to Mauro, one hand resting on the arm of his chair. A shiver passed through her at the sight of that hand, of her leaning forward into Mauro’s personal space, making her intentions clear, however subtly.
She held her breath, a sharp pain in her chest preventing her from calling out. Memories crashed back: finding those photos on Ian’s phone. The sultry tones on his voicemail. Promising things that made Amber sick to think about. The memory of that day battered through her with full force and she started shaking.
How could she get out of here? How would she get back to the villa without them realising that she had seen them? Perhaps he wouldn’t even miss her—it looked as if his plans for the evening had just got a whole lot more interesting. She shrank back into the room, but couldn’t drag her eyes from the scene in front of her. But as she watched, Mauro took Fabrizia’s hand from his chair, and, with his other hand on her upper arm, gently pushed her away. Fabrizia smiled, a little chagrined.
‘If you change your mind...’ she added in English.
For my benefit? Amber wondered. Does she know I’m listening? Does Mauro? Was that why he turned down what must have been a very tempting offer?
Why? Why would he deny himself another notch on his bed post? He’d been honest enough with her about what he wanted in his romantic life.
She watched as he rubbed both hands over his face and looked up to the ceiling for a second. On her tiptoes, she retreated back into the drawing room, not wanting him to know just yet that she’d seen that little interlude. Not until she tried to work out what it meant. She poured herself another glass of wine and was taking a sip when she heard Mauro approaching behind her. ‘Are we OK?’ he asked, his features showing his trepidation. ‘I know we’ve not had a chance to talk about earlier, in the car. I didn’t mean to upset you.’
‘And I didn’t mean to fly off the handle. I am sorry.’
‘You sure you don’t want to talk about it?’
Her gut reaction was a screeching no. But she’d just seen him turn down easy, meaningless sex. And she wanted to know why. She didn’t want to tell him that she’d seen. Didn’t want to show her hand just yet.
‘I’m sorry I overreacted. I suppose I’m not used to compliments. It made me suspicious.’
His brow furrowed as he frowned. ‘You know, I’m starting to think I might like to meet this ex of yours. There’s one or two things I’d like to say to him.’
No compliments for him, she assumed.
‘I’d count myself lucky not to have met him. I wish I could turn back the clock.’
He reached for her hand. ‘That bad, huh. No happy memories?’
‘I used to have some,’ she remembered, letting her hand rest in Mauro’s, enjoying the slow-growing warmth of the touch of skin on skin. ‘Some of the things we did were amazing. The places we visited...I wish I could still remember them fondly. But what came after—what he did. What he’d been doing all along, actually. It tainted them, made everything we’d ever done... It made me suspicious of how I remembered it. There had been another woman most of the time we’d been together. When I first found out about her I wondered why he’d stayed with me at all. If he wanted her then why not just be with her? When I found out that he cleared the bank accounts and forged my signature to transfer the house to his name, I had my reason. Why leave with nothing when you can play the long game and make some money out of it?’
‘Surely the police—’
‘Have done everything they can, given that I have no proof. And it isn’t quite enough, apparently. My solicitor pushed things as much as he could, but he doesn’t come free, there’s no real evidence, and funds...’
‘Ran out.’
She nodded then hung her head, trying to hide the tears threatening her eyes. Mauro reached for her hand and she let him take it in his own. Now the whole sorry story was out there, the fight had gone out of her.
‘I saw you just now, with Fabrizia.’
He raised an eyebrow.
‘Yes?’
‘I would have understood, you know. If you wanted to take her home. It looked like a difficult offer to refuse.’
He dropped her hand as if it were suddenly hot.
‘Don’t you dare, Amber.’
‘What? I would have understood.’
Understood, yes. Been happy about it? No. In fact, she’d have been sick with jealousy.
His voice was hard and expression stern. ‘You’re trying to make me him, Amber, but I’m not. I might be many things, and lover of women is well up there. But I do not—ever—cheat. I never lie—I have always been completely honest with you. I am not your ex, and I would never, ever treat you that way. Let’s get that straight right now.’
She lifted her hands in exasperation. He wasn’t getting it. And it wasn’t as if it would be cheating when they weren’t even together. When they’d both already said that they didn’t want to be together. ‘I didn’t mean that, Mauro. I wasn’t comparing you to him. This is different. I mean, it’s not like this is real—’
‘Enough, Amber. I don’t want to hear any more.’ Mauro reversed away from the sofa, putting himself out of reach. She was about to speak again, but he held up his hand to stop her. ‘This might not be a real date, but that doesn’t mean that you’re not here at all, that I’ll treat you like you’re nothing.’