she were back at the office, with that feeling of awareness zipping around her veins at a double-quick pace just at knowing he was close by, which quadrupled when he looked at her. And there had been many times in the course of the last four weeks, unbelievable though it was, when she had caught him doing just that. And not in the way that an employer usually looked at his employee. More in the way an art lover might examine the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. But he would always look away the moment she noticed, his brows furrowed, as if he had really been contemplating some complex business problem and had just alighted upon the answer. Which had left Faye caught between believing she was too young and too awkward for him to see her as anything other than the teenage girl she was, and sensing something else within him that he seemed reluctant to acknowledge.
‘Faye?’ He had spoken her name as if coaxing a child from sleep. She’d finished off the section of the cover design she was working on and attempted to steady the pounding of her heart before looking up to see him standing before her desk.
‘I’m almost done.’
‘It’s late.’ He looked at his watch and raised his eyebrows. ‘It’s the weekend, and I’ve been working you like a Trojan. Go and get some rest.’
Faye’s eyelids did indeed feel heavy. ‘OK. I’ll pop back tomorrow morning—get this finished before Monday.’
‘No, you won’t,’ he said, his voice insistent. ‘You deserve a break. Go out—soak up Rome at the weekend.’
Faye nodded hesitantly. She had taken herself out on a sightseeing bus tour the weekend after she had arrived, but magnificent though the sights were, seeing them by herself, without anyone to share her amazement, had somehow diminished their appeal.
‘Perhaps.’
It was then that Dante looked around the room thoughtfully, at the rest of his team slowly packing up and making their ways home.
‘I suppose there isn’t really anyone else here your age.’ His expression was guilty. ‘I’m sorry.’
Faye knew it was true, although it was not something that had bothered her. Until he had pointed out how young she was again. She didn’t feel young.
And then he said it.
‘I could always show you the sights tomorrow, if you like.’
And those words changed everything.
For the Dante who was waiting for her in the lobby the next morning—a Dante without the immaculately pressed suits he wore to work—was everything she had hoped for and more besides. It felt as if somehow they were equal, like any other couple getting lost amongst the crowds. For not only did he make the sights come alive—from the wonder of Vatican City to the Baroque fountains hidden amongst the lesser-known ancient sights—he also had insisted she experience the intimate trattorie, the sensational boutiques in Piazza di Spagna.
She marvelled at their windows, not daring to go in. Until he called her over to one particularly exclusive display and she saw the most exquisite red evening gown she could ever have imagined. The kind most women never got to wear, let alone own.
‘Go in,’ he commanded, sensing her appreciation. ‘Try it on.’
‘Oh, Dante—don’t be ridiculous. Why would I try on a dress like that? The assistants will only have to take one look at me to know that I don’t have the money to even buy the hanger, let alone an occasion to wear the dress.’
‘Nonsense,’ he said, as if she had just suggested the earth was flat.
And the sudden understanding of just how powerful and how rich Dante really was began to seep in as she was ushered to a fitting room that was so large it could have given the entire upstairs in her parents’ house a run for its money.
The dress fit like a glove, but it was with some trepidation that she stepped out, feeling like a peasant masquerading as a princess. Slowly he turned around, and then did a double-take, as if to check it was really her. She hadn’t anticipated that it would be the way he looked at her rather than the dress itself that would make her feel as if her whole body was glowing. But she knew she wanted to bottle the feeling and keep it for ever.
‘Faye…bella,’ he said guardedly, his voice a purr. ‘You look …’ He shook his head like a man torn and turned to the shop assistant. ‘We’ll take it.’ The woman smiled from ear to ear and waltzed off to the till.
‘Dante, what are you doing?’ Faye protested under her breath, trying not to move for fear she might damage the priceless gown. ‘I can’t afford this!’
‘Think of it as a thank you for all your hard work,’ he said abruptly, avoiding looking directly at her. ‘Now, go and get changed.’
And, despite her protestations, Dante paid for the dress before she even emerged from the changing room.
Feeble though it was in comparison, she insisted she buy him a gelato in return. Puzzled by her insistence, he reluctantly agreed—on the condition that he take her to the best place to sample delicious ice cream. But just as they were approaching the winding street he had in mind, the heavens opened.
By the time they had run back to Il Maia, her hand reaching for his to stop them losing one another in the crowds of shoppers, her light summer dress was soaked through and stuck to her body, and his pale shirt was clinging to his broad chest, his jeans moulded to his lean hips. Finally they reached her room, and, breathless and laughing, she unlocked the door and flew in.
Dante hesitated in the doorway.
‘My apartment’s only a few blocks away. Let me head back and get changed. I’ll meet you downstairs.’
‘Dante, it’s raining even more heavily now—here, have a towel.’ Faye slipped off her shoes and flitted through to the bathroom. He stood there, poised like a man who had been asked to do a bungee jump without a rope.
‘No, Faye, I shouldn’t—’
‘Come on, you’ll get cold.’ Faye pulled him into the room, laughing, and put the towel around his shoulders, shutting the door behind him.
And the moment the catch clicked shut, something snapped. The air in the room changed, and her naturally quick movements seemed to slow as she became conscious of every move her body made. The smell of rain mixed with her faint floral perfume and his musky cologne. Their damp clothes seemed to long to be removed. She was thrilled at being caught out by nature, as if it was urging them to come together.
She stood before him, the intensity of the look he gave her making her nipples peak beneath the wet cotton of her dress. His silence was unbearable.
‘Let’s get out of these clothes,’ she said, reaching her arm behind her back, turning around. ‘Help me with this zip.’
He did not answer, but she felt him move behind her and his hands begin to release her dress, agonisingly avoiding contact with her skin. Faye heard her breathing fall in time with his. It was as if those lingering glances had reached fever pitch and there could be no more looking away. Faye…bella. The words echoed around her mind, refusing to be forgotten, and her body was crying out for him as the rivulets of water ran over her body, mingling with its own heat.
‘Touch me, Dante.’
She
