Page 39 of His Housekeeper's Twin Baby Confession
She turned to face him. ‘Look, about earlier, I didn’t mean to sound—’
But Massimo cut her off. ‘I think it’s the music. It has that effect on people. You know the dance originated among the migrants and slaves in the poor areas of the city? Men danced it together because there were no women. Its roots are European and African. I’m not remotely romantic, but that music more than any other has the power to make me believe that romance exists.’
‘I’m not remotely romantic.’
A clear message that he knew what she had been about to say.
So she said, ‘I’m not remotely romantic either.’
She certainly wasn’t. Not any more—if she ever had been. So why did that assertion cause a little pang in her chest? As if she was betraying some part of herself?
She ignored it.
She could see their hotel in the distance, and then Massimo surprised her by saying, ‘We could go straight back to Rio now, if you like? Wake up there in the morning. Or we could stay here for the night?’
Carrie didn’t want to leave Buenos Aires. But the truth was that this city seemed to evoke in her too many emotions and revelations for her liking.
She said, ‘Would you mind if we went back to Rio?’
Massimo shook his head. ‘Not at all. I can have the hotel pack our things and send them on. We can sleep on the plane.’
He took her hand and lifted it, pressing a kiss to the palm. It felt shockingly intimate.
And then he said, ‘Or not sleep...it’s your choice.’
The car turned around to head in the other direction and Carrie felt inordinately relieved—as if she was escaping her conscience and her emotions.
Coward, whispered a voice.
She ignored it. ‘I’m not that tired, actually.’
Massimo put his hands on her waist and pulled her close. ‘That’s funny, I’m not either...’
As soon as the plane hit a certain altitude Massimo undid his belt buckle and stood up, holding out a hand to Carrie. He’d taken off his jacket and bow-tie. His shirt was undone. Stubble lined his jaw. He looked uncharacteristically roguish.
She put her hand in his and let him pull her up. She should have felt ridiculous on a plane in full evening dress, but she didn’t. It seemed that nothing fazed her any more. It was as if something had just happened between them. A clarification.
This is just an affair. We’re not romantics. We know what’s happening. We’re in control.
Massimo led her into the bedroom suite, where there was a massive walk-in shower. He let her hand go and went and turned it on. Steam quickly filled the space.
Carrie realised the audacity of what they were about to do. ‘The cabin crew won’t disturb us?’
‘They know not to.’
Ouch.
An even clearer reminder that she wasn’t the first woman Massimo had done this with and wouldn’t be the last.
In a bid to hide how that made her feel, she started to take down her hair. Massimo watched her as her hair fell down around her shoulders. She shook it out. Then she found the zip at the side of her dress and pulled it down. The dress fell to her feet in a soft swish of expensive fabric.
She stepped out of the shoes. Now all she wore was a strapless bra and matching briefs. Mere wisps of material.
Feeling bold under Massimo’s hungry gaze, and aware of how finite all this was, Carrie turned and walked straight into the shower.
She turned around and Massimo looked almost feral as he took in the water sluicing down over her body, turning her underwear completely translucent. She might as well have been naked.
He didn’t wait. He ripped off his clothes and they scattered around him. Gloriously naked and aroused, he stepped into the shower with Carrie. Dispensing with her underwear with a mere flick of his wrist, he caught her under her arms and lifted her up.
