her getting past him.
‘Where did you say we were going?’
‘I didn’t say.’
Savannah’s nerve deserted her completely. She wasn’t going anywhere with a man she didn’t know, even if that man was her boss. ‘You go. I’ll be fine. I’ll get a cab.’
‘I brought you to Rome, and like it or not while you’re here you’re my responsibility.’
He didn’t like it at all, she gathered, which left one simple question: did she want this recording contract or not? She couldn’t take the chance of losing it, Savannah realised. She hadn’t come to Rome to sabotage her career. She might not like Ethan’s manner, but she was here on his time. Plus, she didn’t know Rome. If her only interest was getting home as quickly as possible, wasn’t he her best hope?
She had to run to keep up with him, and then he stopped so suddenly she almost bumped into him. Looking up, Savannah found herself staring into a face that was even more cruelly scarred than she had remembered. Instead of recoiling, she registered a great well of feeling opening up inside her heart. It was almost as if something strong and primal was urging her to heal him, to press cream into those wounds, and to … love him?
This situation was definitely getting out of hand, Savannah concluded, pulling herself together, to find Ethan giving her an assessing look as if to warn her that just looking at him too closely was a dangerous game well out of her league. ‘It’s important we leave now,’ he prompted as if she were some weakling he had been forced to babysit.
‘I’m ready.’ She held his gaze steadily. This was not a time to be proud. She didn’t want to do battle with the paparazzi on her own, and she would be safer with Ethan. There were times when having a strong man at your side was a distinct advantage. But she wouldn’t have him think her a fool either.
‘After you.’ Opening the door for her, he stood aside.
He looked more like a swarthy buccaneer than a businessman, and exuded the sort of earthy maleness she had always been drawn to. Her fantasies were full of pirates and cowboys, roughnecks and marines, though none of them had possessed lips as firm and sensual as Ethan’s, and his hand in the small of her back was an incendiary device propelling her forward.
‘What’s wrong now?’ he said impatiently when she stopped outside to shade her eyes.
‘I was just looking for a taxi rank.’ By far the safest option, she had decided.
‘A taxi rank?’ Ethan’s voice was scathing. ‘Do you want to attract more publicity? Don’t worry, Ms Ross, you’ll be quite safe with me.’
But would she? That was Savannah’s cue for stepping back inside the stadium building. ‘I’m sure someone will find the number of a cab company for me.’
‘Please yourself.’
She couldn’t have been more shocked when Ethan stormed ahead, letting the door swing in her face. Defiantly, she pushed it open again. ‘You’re leaving me?’
‘That’s what you want, isn’t it?’ he called back as he marched away. ‘And as you don’t need my help …’
‘Just a minute.’
‘You changed your mind?’
Savannah’s heart lurched as Ethan turned to look at her. ‘No, but.’
‘But what?’ He kept on walking.
‘I need directions to the nearest taxi rank, and I thought you might know where I should look.’ She had to run to keep up with him, which wasn’t easy in high-heeled shoes, not to mention yards of taffeta winding itself like a malevolent red snake around her feet.
‘Find someone else to help you.’
‘Ethan, please!’ She would have to swallow her pride if it meant saving her parents more embarrassment. ‘Can you really get us out of here without the paparazzi seeing?’
He stopped and slowly turned around. ‘Can I get us out of here?’
The look of male confidence blazing from his eyes was at its purest. When she should be considering a thousand other things—like how long before the paparazzi found them, for example—a bolt of lust chose that moment to race down her spine. His eyes were the most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen, deep grey, with just a hint of duckegg blue, and they had very white whites, as well as the most ridiculously long black lashes.
‘I’m done waiting for you, Ms Ross.’
He was off again, but this time he grabbed her arm and took her with him. Savannah yelped with surprise. ‘Where are we going?’
‘To something that travels a lot faster than a taxi,’ he grated without slowing down.
What did he mean—a helicopter? Of course. She should have known. Like all the super-rich, Ethan would hardly call a cab when he could fly home. ‘Can we slow down just a bit?”
‘And talk this through?’ he scoffed without breaking stride. ‘We can take all the time in the world if you want the paparazzi to find you.’
‘You know I don’t want that!’ Okay, no reason to worry, Savannah told herself. They would fly straight to the airport in Ethan’s helicopter, from where she’d fly home. Traffic snarl-ups were reserved for mere mortals like herself. In no time Ethan would be back in his seat at the stadium ready for the second half, while she returned to England and her nice, safe fantasies. Perfect.
Or at least it was until a door burst open and the press-hounds barrelled out. It only took one of them to catch sight of Ethan and Savannah for the whole pack to give chase.
‘This way,’ Ethan commanded, swinging Savannah in front of him. Opening a door, he thrust her through it and, slamming it shut, he shot the bolt home.
If she hadn’t left her sensible sneakers in the tunnel she might have been able to run faster, Savannah fretted as Ethan took the stairs two at a time, but now the straps on her stratospheric heels were threatening to snap.
‘Leave them!’ he ordered as she bent down to take them off. ‘Or, better still, snap those heels off.’
‘Are you joking?’
‘Take them off!’ he roared.
‘I’m going to keep them,’ Savannah insisted stubbornly.
‘Do what you like with them,’ he said, snatching hold of her arm, half-lifting her to safety down another flight of steps. ‘And hitch up your skirt while you’re at it, before you trip over it,’ he said, checking outside the next door before rushing her out into the open air again. ‘Your skirt—hitch it up!’
Hitch it up? The photographers would surely be on them in moments, and when that happened she didn’t want to look like a …
‘Do it!’
‘I’m doing it!’ she yelled, startled into action. But she wouldn’t ruin the shoes her mother had bought her. Or Madame’s dress. Slipping off her high-heeled sandals as quickly
