had spent the past half an hour, as she’d dried her hair and then dressed, building herself up to a quiet fury—but one look at this relaxed, smiling Dmitri and she was once again aware of everything about him. The way his hair fell silkily onto his brow. The fact that there was no longer any shadow darkening that square and determined chin—evidence that he must have shaved. The unbuttoned shirt allowed her to see the start of the dark curling hair that no doubt covered most of his chest before dipping down below the waistband of his—
‘Would you care for some red wine?’
Lily gave a startled blink as she realised she had been staring so intently at the utterly gorgeous man in front of her that she had completely forgotten he was probably using that time to stare right back at her—thereby allowing him to see how her cheeks had become flushed, her lips moist and slightly parted, even as her gaze hungrily devoured everything about him.
Double damn it!
This man held the key to her gilded cage, and as such was not a man she should be drooling over, she told herself firmly.
Lily closed her eyes briefly before opening them again. ‘Thank you,’ she accepted huskily as she stepped farther into the kitchen. ‘The food smells good,’ she excused herself uncomfortably when her stomach gave an audible growl as a reminder that she hadn’t eaten anything since those snacks on the plane.
‘Let’s hope that it tastes good too.’ Dmitri took a second glass from the cupboard and poured some wine from the open bottle, handing it to her before topping up his own glass.
Lily took a welcome sip of the red wine, not in the least surprised at its delicious smoothness. She doubted a man as rich as Dmitri was reputed to be would ever have anything but the best wines in his cellar, and the finer the wine the smoother on the palate.
‘Am I allowed to ask whereabouts in Rome we are?’ Lily frowned, having become totally disorientated earlier, during her drive through the city.
‘Of course.’ He nodded, leaning back against one of the kitchen units, heavy lids lowered over piercing green eyes as he slowly sipped his own wine.
‘Well?’ she prompted impatiently, when he added nothing further.
He shrugged broad shoulders. ‘You have not asked yet.’
Lily drew in an impatient breath. ‘I’m asking now,’ she grated between gritted teeth.
‘We are in the area of Parioli. It’s—’
‘I know where it is.’ She also knew what it was—the most prestigious and exclusive residential area in Rome! But then, where else would he live?
Lily had bought several books on Rome once her ticket was booked, and had enjoyed poring over all the different areas and historical attractions of Rome in order to decide which places she wanted to visit while she was there. The area containing most of the homes of the wealthy and privileged inhabitants of Rome hadn’t been one of them.
Dmitri eyed her from beneath dark lashes. ‘You don’t sound as if you approve.’
‘It’s not for me to approve or disapprove. It is what it is.’ She gave a dismissive lift of her shoulders and avoided meeting his perceptive gaze. ‘What are we having for dinner?’ she asked as she looked down into the simmering cooking pots rather than at him.
‘Spaghetti alla carbonara. It’s—’
‘I know what it is, Dmitri. We’re quite cosmopolitan in England nowadays, you know,’ she added snippily. ‘We even eat with knives and forks on special days and holidays!’
Dmitri had been hoping that they might be able to spend a relaxing evening together—maybe enjoy some light conversation as they ate the meal he had cooked, and in the process dispel some of her antagonism towards him. Yet, after only a few minutes spent in her company, he knew she was spoiling for another fight rather than relaxed conversation!
Admittedly he should not have taken her mobile phone earlier, without first telling her what he was doing. Except by the time he had seen it lying on the bed, amongst her purse, a lipstick and a couple of paperback books, she had already locked herself in the bathroom, with the sound of running bathwater precluding any further conversation.
He sighed his impatience with her continued hostility. ‘I remember eating in some very acceptable Italian restaurants during the years I lived in England.’
‘I trust you passed that on to the proprietors? What a coup—to have a personal recommendation from Count Dmitri Scarletti!’
Yes, Dmitri acknowledged wearily, this promised to be a very long evening indeed. ‘I was not Count Scarletti at the time, Lily,’ he informed her quietly. ‘My father did not die until the summer after I had left Oxford.’
Well, that had completely knocked the wind from her sails, she acknowledged a little guiltily, as she saw the pain he still felt at his father’s death reflected in the grimness of his expression.
She winced. ‘I’m sorry …’
‘You are?’ He looked surprised. ‘I would have thought you might enjoy my obvious discomfort at the loss.’
‘Really?’ Lily bristled. Being angry with Dmitri on a personal level was one thing, but using the pain of his father’s death as a means of hitting back at him would hardly have been fair. Admittedly this situation was decidedly odd, but she had never been a vindictive person—nor was she about to become one now. ‘My own parents died in a car accident when Felix and I were only eighteen, so I’m hardly likely to relish hearing of someone else having suffered the same loss at an early age.’
‘Even me?’ Dmitri finished dryly.
‘Even you,’ Lily muttered. ‘You must have been quite young when your father died,’ she realised with a frown.
He nodded. ‘My mother died when I was fifteen and my father when I was twenty-one.’
Lily thought of what she’d been doing when she was twenty-one. She had already worked her way through her degree course and had been preparing to embark on a student teacher course. It had been tough going, admittedly, but she’d only had herself to think about—bar the odd occasion when she’d had to bail her irresponsible brother out of trouble! But those things were nothing in comparison with the responsibilities Dmitri must have taken on at that tender age.
Oh, for goodness’ sake, Lily, she instantly admonished herself. He’s a multi-multi-millionaire—how tough could it have been?
Tough, she conceded ruefully. Money might have helped to cushion the situation for him, but Dmitri would still have been responsible for his much younger sister, and for all of the people who worked and lived under the Scarletti umbrella—either in the numerous companies he owned or on the family estates.
Oh, great—now she was starting to feel admiration for the man!
‘Can we eat now?’ she asked brusquely. ‘I’m starving.’
Conversation over, Dmitri acknowledged ruefully. The subject of the conversation hadn’t been exactly pleasant, but at least it had been conversation of a sort. ‘Would you prefer to eat in here or upstairs in the formal dining room?’
A
