hadn’t planted them on him that night... He didn’t like the way the knowledge sank like a stone in his belly.
The crush and chaos of the club that night came back to him and a flash of a memory caught him unawares: Serena’s hand slipping into his. He’d looked down at her and she’d been wide-eyed, her face pale. That had been just before the Italian police had separated them roughly and searched them.
The memory mocked him now. He’d always believed that look to have been Serena’s guilt and pseudo-vulnerability, knowing what she’d just done. But if it hadn’t been guilt it had been something far more ambiguous. It made him think of her passionate defence when he’d questioned her trustworthiness. And why on earth did that gnaw at him now? Making him feel almost guilty?
The flaps of the tent moved and the object of his thoughts emerged, blinking in the dawn light. She’d pulled her hair up into a bun on top of her head, and when that blue gaze caught his, Luca’s insides tightened. He cursed her silently—and himself for bringing her here and putting questions into his head.
For possibly being innocent of the charges he’d levelled against her.
She straightened up and her gaze was wary. ‘Morning.’
Her voice was sleep-rough enough to tug forcibly at Luca’s simmering desire. She should look creased and dishevelled and grimy, but she looked gorgeous. Her skin was as dewy and clear as if she’d just emerged from a spa, not a night spent in a rudimentary tent in the middle of the jungle.
He thrust a bowl of protein-rich tinned food towards her. ‘Here—eat this.’
There was the most minute flash of something in her eyes as she acknowledged his lack of greeting, but she took the bowl and a spoon and sat down on a nearby log to eat, barely wincing at the less than appetising meal. Yet another blow to Luca’s firmly entrenched antipathy.
He looked at her and forced himself to ignore that dart of guilt he’d just felt—to remember that thanks to his mother’s stellar example he knew all about the mercurial nature of addicts. How as soon as you thought they truly were intent on making a change they went and did the exact opposite. From a young age Luca had witnessed first-hand just how brutal that lack of regard could be and he’d never forgotten it.
Serena looked up at him. She’d finished her meal, and Luca felt slightly winded at the intensity of her gaze. He reached down and took the bowl and handed her a protein bar. His voice gruff, which irritated him, he said, ‘Eat this too.’
‘But I’m full now. I—’
Luca held it out and said tersely, ‘Eat it, Serena. I can’t afford for you to be weak. We have a long walk today.’
Serena’s eyes flashed properly at that, and she stood up with smooth grace and took the bar from his outstretched hand. Tension bristled and crackled between them.
Serena cursed herself for thinking, hoping that some kind of a truce might have grown between them. And she cursed herself again for revealing what she had last night.
Luca was cleaning up the camp, packing things away, getting ready to move on. When she’d woken a while ago it had taken long seconds for her to realise where she was and with whom. A sense of exultation had rushed through her at knowing they were still in the jungle and that she’d survived the first day, that she hadn’t shown Luca any weakness.
Then she’d remembered the gentleness of his hands on her feet and had felt hot. And then she’d got hotter, acknowledging that only extreme exhaustion had knocked her out enough to sleep through sharing such an intimate space with him.
Before Luca might see some of that heat in her expression or in her eyes, Serena busied herself with rolling up the sleeping bags and starting to take down the tent efficiently.
‘Where did you learn to do that?’ came Luca’s voice, its tone incredulous.
Serena barely glanced at him, prickling. ‘We used to go on camping trips while we were in rehab. It was part of the programme.’
She tensed, waiting for him to be derisive or to ask her about it, but he didn’t. He just went and started unpegging the other side of the tent. Serena hadn’t shared her experience of rehab with anyone—not even her sister. Even though her sister had been the one who had sacrificed almost everything to ensure Serena’s care, working herself to the bone and putting herself unwittingly at the mercy of a man she’d betrayed years before and who had come looking for revenge.
Against the odds, though, Siena and Andreas had fallen in love and were now blissfully happy, with a toddler and a baby. Sometimes their intense happiness made Serena feel unaccountably alienated, and she hated herself for the weakness. But it was the same with her half-brother Rocco and his wife and children. If she’d never believed in love or genuine happiness theirs mocked her for it every time she saw them.
Without even realising it was done, she saw the camp was cleared and Luca was handing Serena her backpack.
He arched a brow. ‘Ready?’
Serena took the pack and nodded swiftly, not wanting Luca to guess at the sudden vulnerability she felt to be thinking of her family and their very natural self-absorption.
She put on the pack and followed Luca for a few steps until he turned abruptly. ‘How are your feet?’
Serena frowned and said, with some surprise, ‘They’re fine, actually.’
Luca made an indeterminate sound and carried on, and Serena tried not to fool herself that he’d asked out of any genuine concern.
As they walked the heat progressed and intensified to almost suffocating proportions. When they stopped briefly by a small stream in the afternoon Serena almost wept with relief to be able to throw some cool water over her face and head. She soaked a cloth handkerchief and tied it around her neck.
It was only a short reprieve. Luca picked up the punishing pace again, not even looking to see if Serena was behind him. Irritation rose up inside her. Would he even notice if she was suddenly pulled by some animal into the undergrowth? He’d probably just shrug and carry on.
After another hour any feeling of relief from the stream was a distant memory and sweat dripped down her face, neck and back. Her limbs were aching, her feet numb again. Luca strode on, though, like some kind of robot, and suddenly Serena felt an urge to provoke him, needle him. Force him to stop and face her. Acknowledge that she had done well to last this far. Acknowledge that she might be telling the truth about the drugs.
She called out, ‘So, are you prepared to admit that I might be innocent after all?’
She got her wish. Luca stopped dead in his tracks and then, after a long second, slowly turned around. His eyes were so dark they looked black. He covered the space between them so fast and silently that Serena took an involuntary step backwards, hating herself for the reflexive action.
He looked infinitely dangerous, and yet perversely Serena didn’t feel scared. She felt something far more ambiguous and hotter, deep in her pelvis.
‘To be quite frank, I don’t think I even care any more whether or not you did it. The fact is that my involvement with you made things so much worse. You were enough to turn the incident into front-page news and put certainty into people’s minds about my guilt—because they all believed that you did drugs, and that I was
