Page 128 of A Diamond Deal
His hand lifted though, his thumb padding across her pink lips, pulling the lower to the side. ‘One night, Amelia. And not tonight.’
It was almost verbatim what he’d said when he’d dropped her home the night before.
Maybe she was wrong about his desiring her. Or perhaps he was just way better at controlling his instincts. It was hard not to take it personally, though, when her whole body seemed to catch fire if he was nearby.
Before she could say anything in response, her door was being opened by the driver, and Massimiliano was moving towards his own side, to get out of the car.
She watched him a moment, frowning, before pulling herself together and stepping onto the footpath, careful not to lose her footing in the sky-high heels.
A moment later, he was by her side, arm weaving around her waist, drawing her to him, so those fires that had been lit the moment he’d arrived at the hotel went into full-blown explosives territory.
‘Show time.’
Her heart turned over in her chest.
Yes, it was show time. A game of pretend. Nothing about this was real. Except for her reactions to him…
‘I’m ready,’ she said, forcing an over-bright smile as she glanced up at his face. His features were locked carefully into place, a mask of determination, and then they were walking forwards, together, towards the unassuming little restaurant. There were no suited staff here, so it was Massimiliano who stepped forward and pushed the door inwards, holding it for her, before returning his hand to her waist.
Inside was so much sweeter than she’d expected. Red and white tablecloths covered each sturdy timber table, the chairs were black bentwood, the lighting was warm and casual, there were ferns in pots dotted around to create a pleasing effect and old Chianti bottles had been pushed into service as makeshift candle holders on each table, their round bodies rumpled by wax pillars. The air was heavy with the fragrance of garlic and herbs, and in the corner there was a rustic-looking brick pizza oven, very clearly in use.
‘It’s wonderful,’ she murmured, smiling.
When she glanced up at Massimiliano, there was something in his face that made her insides go all warm and soft. Approval. Appreciation. It was gone again almost as quickly, but she was sure she’d seen it.
Amelia cleared her throat, eyes scanning the restaurant for people now. It was busy, though, unlike the place they’d gone the night before, this trattoria was filled with families, elderly couples, there was a group of female friends sharing a bottle of red wine and pizzas. There was a lot of ambient noise—chatter and laughter, and also, the gentle strains of Italian singing coming from crackly speakers in the corners of the ceiling.
‘Is there anything I need to know about your grandfather?’ she asked, realising it was probably a question she should have asked in the car.
‘Such as?’
‘Other than what I already know.’
He stopped walking and looked down on her. ‘He’s one of the best people you will ever meet. Honourable, intelligent and proud. I think you’ll like him.’
‘Is he…’ she hesitated, not wanting to be insensitive ‘…unwell?’
‘No. His cancer was detected in a routine check-up. So far, he has no symptoms, beyond a little exhaustion. He’ll start treatment this week.’
Panic squeezed her throat. A muscle memory, rather than related to anything he’d said. But she’d spent so long advocating for her father to have the benefit of the experimental drugs that were showing such promise, and without success. She would have put money on that not being an issue for Massimiliano’s grandfather. Despite his age, and no matter his prognosis, money talked, and that he had in abundance. The bitterness she felt had nothing to do with resenting Massimiliano’s ability to fund that medical care. It was fuelled by injustice—of cancer in general, and the practicalities of treatment.
‘Ready?’ he prompted, lifting his gaze and scanning the restaurant.
‘Of course. Let’s do this.’
His hand shifted to the small of her back, fingers splayed wide, so she felt his presence in her whole body. Arrows of desire needled just beneath her skin as they weaved through the restaurant, towards a table at the back.
The moment Amelia saw Massimiliano’s grandfather, she was struck by the similarities. Far from appearing like someone who was facing cancer, he looked to be the picture of health and vitality. Knowing Massimiliano’s age, she figured his grandfather had to be in his seventies, at least, yet he was clearly in great shape. He wore a light grey suit and polished brown shoes, and his hair, once the colour of Massimiliano’s, she guessed, was now a slate grey.
‘Massi,’ he said, shaking Massimiliano’s hand before pulling him into an embrace, slapping his back.
‘Nonno.’Massimiliano surprised her by using the affectionate title for Grandpa. He pulled away from the older man and gestured to Amelia. ‘This is Amelia Rossi.’
Antonio stepped forward, intelligent dark eyes locking to her thoughtfully. ‘So it is,’ he agreed, nodding slowly, his face lined in a way she hadn’t seen at first. Unlike his grandson, Antonio’s smile came easily. ‘I knew your mother, once upon a time. And your grandparents.’
‘Massimiliano’s mentioned that.’
‘Of course he has.’ He shook his head. ‘I’m a little thrown. You are so much more like her than I expected.’
