Page 130 of A Diamond Deal
He pulled back a little, so their eyes met. ‘I trust no one.’
A shiver ran the length of her spine, but it was snuffed out by the heat he was generating, by essentially wrapping his far larger body around hers.
‘I get that,’ she said. Inside, she was nodding, but she made a conscious choice not to shift her head, because it might break the spell of being near to each other. Even as, in the back of her mind, she forced herself to remember that this was all for show. It didn’t negate the fact it felt incredible.
‘Somehow, I don’t think you do,’ he drawled, eyes hooked to hers in a way she found impossible to look away from.
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Because you are soft where I am hard.’
She frowned. His English was excellent, but she didn’t fully understand. ‘What does that mean?’
‘That you cannot, I think, help giving people chances. Letting them in.’
‘You’re wrong.’
His lips lifted in a cynical half-smile. ‘Am I?’
‘I have literally no friends and no family,’ she muttered. ‘I am completely alone in the world.’
He leaned closer, so now his lips brushed against her ear. ‘Except for me.’
She shivered then, from warmth and longing. ‘For two years,’ she said. ‘And only in name.’
His face hovered where it was, so close her insides twisted with awareness, and then he pulled back a little, so they could once more look into each other’s eyes. Her heart turned over, as silently she implored him to say something that might dispute that.
He didn’t.
A moment later, the waiter left, and Massimiliano expanded the conversation to include his grandfather. Amelia pretended she didn’t mind.
Chapter Seven
‘YOU’RE RIGHT. HE’S GREAT,’ Amelia said as Massimiliano’s limousine cut a path across Rome. She glanced towards her window, regretting the change in scenery. While this part of the city was undeniably more beautiful and picturesque, she’d loved her time at the trattoria. The food had been, as Massimiliano had promised, exquisite. She wasn’t sure she’d ever eaten anything quite so delicious, in fact. From the squid-ink pasta entrée to the courgette flowers that were served deep fried and stuffed with soft goat’s cheese on the side, to the aubergine and prosciutto Parmigiano stack she’d enjoyed as a main course. While Massimiliano and Antonio had opted for short black coffees for dessert, served with a bitter almond biscuit, Amelia had chosen a tiramisu, and it had been prepared fresh at the table.
She wasn’t sure she’d ever need to eat again, however.
‘He liked you, too.’
Her eyes lit up as she turned to face him. ‘How can you tell?’
‘Because he’s my grandfather, and I know him.’
Warmth wrapped around her.
‘I’m more like you than you realise,’ she murmured, toying with the bottom of her blazer, running a finger over the discreet stitching. ‘I keep people at a distance, as a matter of course. It’s just so much easier not to rely on anyone,’ she pointed out. ‘I go out of my way not to like people. Not to want them to like me. But he has a way of breaking down your barriers.’
Massimiliano’s eyes, when she glanced up at him, were boring through her, as if weighing the truth of her words.
‘Yes,’ he admitted, finally, giving very little away. ‘He is open and charming. What you see is what you get.’
‘He must have taken things with your father very hard.’
Massimiliano didn’t react physically, as she might have. He simply nodded slowly. ‘It was a betrayal on every level.’
She was silent, wondering if he’d continue, not wanting to spook him away from doing so.
‘My grandfather raised my father to follow in his footsteps. To share his values, his beliefs. To be just like him. But where Antonio is scrupulously honest, my father lied as easily as he breathed. He was deceitful for the sake of it.’
