wanted something?’ Acid dripped from her words.
Domenico’s eyes dropped to her mouth, soft pink again now that colour had returned to her face. The blush pink of rose petals at dawn.
A pulse of something like need thudded through his chest. He told himself it was the urge to wring her pretty neck. Yet his mouth dried when he watched her lips part a fraction, as if she had trouble inhaling enough air. There was a buzzing in his ears.
Her eyes widened and Domenico realised he’d leaned closer. Too close. Abruptly he straightened, dropping her arm as if it burnt him.
‘I want to know what you plan to do.’
He didn’t have the right to demand it. Her glittering azure gaze told him that. But he didn’t care. She wasn’t the only one affected by this media frenzy. He had family to protect.
‘I want to find somewhere private, away from the news hounds.’
He nodded. ‘I can arrange that.’
‘Not here!’ The words shot out. A frisson shuddered through the air, a reminder of shadows from the past.
‘No, not here.’ He had estates in Italy as well as in California’s Napa Valley and another outside London. Any of them would make a suitable safe house till this blew over.
‘In that case, I accept your generous offer, Signor Volpe. I’ll stay in your safe haven for a week or so, until this furore dies down.’
She must be more desperate than she appeared. She hadn’t even asked where she’d be staying. Or with whom.
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