smiled. The shimmering heat of the day and the ambient atmosphere of the island had already started working its magic on her. What was the point in getting antsy? He was an old man. She would change his mind soon enough. ‘See you in the morning.’
Entering the villa, she tightened her ponytail and sighed with pleasure.
‘Shall I take your luggage to your bedroom?’ the driver asked, depositing their cases on the terracotta floor.
‘I shall deal with it,’ Nico said, slipping him some local currency.
Once they were alone, he turned to Rosa. ‘I need to check in with the Moscow office, so take a look around.’
Leaving him to it, she headed off into the open-plan living quarters, which were as airy and sophisticated as one would expect for a villa of this calibre. On the gleaming dining table stood a bucket of champagne on ice, a large bowl of fresh fruit and a vase of the prettiest, most delicious-smelling flowers she had ever seen or sniffed. Tucked away discreetly in a corner to the rear was a large, fully equipped office, which she gave a cursory once-over before heading to the patio doors. Inspecting the office could wait. She would spend the next fortnight virtually chained to the desk.
She stepped out onto the decking. A sprawling lawn ran down to a sandy-white beach.
Bubbles of excitement started thrumming through her veins. Dozens of co-mingling scents converged under her nose, from fragrant flowers and freshly cut grass to the salty scent of the sea.
Rosa closed her eyes. She had travelled to many countries with Nico during her time as his PA. Relaxation had never been on the agenda. This trip would be no different. She was here to work.
All the same…
They’d always stayed in luxurious accommodation, but it had always been functional rather than beautiful.
Butterfly Island was stunning. This villa was stunning.
Wistfulness clutched at her belly. What would it be like if she were here with a lover? Someone she trusted enough to place her heart in his hands, who would not squeeze all the life out of it?
She scrubbed the image away—especially the image of Nico that kept trying to intrude. Finding another lover was the last thing on her mind. Sleeping with Stephen had been an act of folly—an act of desperation to purge the hurt that had almost consumed her whole.
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