The Italians: Rico, Antonio and Giovanni
What an idiot she’d been, letting herself fall for every word he’d said. Accepting everything at face value. She really ought to have known better. The man she’d spent three days with—the man she’d let into her bed and started to let into her heart—just didn’t exist. Rico the tour guide was a complete fabrication. Rico the CEO was a complete stranger; she knew nothing of his true self.
As for that coin she’d thrown into the Trevi Fountain—well, she had no intention of ever coming back to Rome.
Finally, Rico left Mr Banks smiling and satisfied. The man had to be the most difficult guest he’d ever encountered—the room was too small, the towels were the wrong size and hadn’t been laundered, the pillows were too flat, the bed was too hard, the air-conditioning didn’t suit him, and as for the city tax that tourists had to pay on top of an already extortionate hotel bill …
Rico had listened, empathised and made suggestions. And he’d upgraded the man’s room, even though he suspected that Mr Banks was the kind of customer who booked the cheapest room in every hotel he stayed at and then complained until he was upgraded to the best suite. He’d gently explained that anyone staying in Rome had to pay the city tax, and Mr Banks’ travel agent should have told him when he booked that several other cities in Italy, including Venice and Florence, levied the same tax on visitors. And he’d also very politely pointed out the notice in the bathroom asking guests to help the hotel be more environment-friendly by leaving the towels that needed laundering in the bathtub and putting the ones they didn’t mind re-using on the towel rack. If Mr Banks wanted all his towels laundered every day, that was fine.
He took a deep breath. At least now he could see Ella.
Except she wasn’t waiting for him in the lounge next door to the hotel reception, as he’d expected. Maybe she’d missed the message and was waiting for him in her room, he thought, and rang her room. Again, there was no answer.
He frowned and went over to the reception desk. ‘Gaby, did you manage to get hold of Signora Chandler?’
‘Ah, Signor Rossi. I’m afraid not. She’d already checked out and left.’
What? He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Why had Ella gone without a single word to him?
‘Maria booked a taxi for her.’ Gabriella gestured to the other receptionist.
‘A taxi?’
‘To the airport.’
‘Right.’ He could see that Maria was busy with a guest. ‘Can you ask her to come to my office for a quick word when she’s free?’
‘Of course, Signor Rossi.’
‘Thank you,’ he said, keeping a lid on the hurt and anger that threatened to bubble over, and headed for his office.
‘Rico? I thought you were taking three days off?’ Lina said when he walked through the door.
‘I changed my mind.’ Warning her silently not to ask, he closed his office door behind him.
Ten minutes later, there was a rap on the door. ‘Signor Rossi? Gaby said you wanted a word.’ Maria looked worried.
‘Come and sit down,’ he said, forcing himself to give her a reassuring smile. It wasn’t her fault that Ella had left without even saying goodbye. ‘I believe you booked a taxi for Signora Chandler?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did she leave a message for me?’
‘No.’ Maria frowned. ‘Is something wrong?’
Yes. But how could he explain it without making himself look a fool? ‘She’s a friend of the family,’ he fibbed. ‘I was going to give her a lift to the airport this morning, but then …’
Maria rolled her eyes. ‘Signor Banks.’
He should’ve reminded her that they should always be ultra-polite about a guest, however difficult, but he understood exactly what she meant. ‘Gaby was going to give Signora Chandler the message that I’d been delayed, but she’d already left before Gaby could find her.’
‘But Signora Chandler pointed you out in the lobby and asked me who you were. I told her.’ Maria frowned. ‘If you were giving her a lift to the airport, why didn’t she know who you were?’
Oh, great. Now he was tangled in a real web of lies. His own fault, for not being honest in the first place. All he could do was bluff it out. ‘Nonna knows her grandparents. We don’t really know each other.’ That last bit at least was true. He’d thought he knew Ella—but how wrong he’d been. ‘I guess she saw I was busy and thought I might not be able to get her to the airport in time.’ He smiled at Maria. ‘I just wondered if she’d left me a message. But no matter. Thanks for clearing that up for me.’
‘Prego.’ Maria smiled back and left his office.
Rico leaned back in his chair. Maria had told Ella who he really was—and Ella had obviously realised that he’d lied to her. But it had been a white lie. He hadn’t done it to hurt her, and she’d completely overreacted to the situation.
Perhaps it was just as well that she’d gone and they’d never have to see each other again. He could go back to his normal life. No more strange feelings that something was missing. What he’d shared with her had been good sex and nothing more. A holiday fling. He’d obviously spent too long in the sun—and that crazy idea of trying to make things work between London and Rome was just that. A crazy idea. Ella Chandler was nothing special. He didn’t need her, he didn’t want her, and he was perfectly happy with his life as it was.
CHAPTER FIVE
FOR the next three weeks, Ella was busy—more than busy. She spent her time working her way through all the local cafés and sandwich businesses to see if they wanted to stock her cupcakes, talking to managers at function rooms and taking samples of her cakes to see if they’d put her on their recommended supplier lists for celebration cake bakers, planning the launch party for Ella’s Cakes, and making sure that all the invitations were sent out on time.
When she crawled into bed at night, she should’ve slept like the dead. Except she couldn’t get Rico out of her head. Which made her even crosser with herself. Why was she thinking about a man who’d lied to her? Especially as she couldn’t see a single reason for him to need to lie.
Yet still she dreamed of him. Every single night. And it was driving her crazy.
Rico couldn’t get Ella out of his head. He kept telling himself that it was because she was the one who’d ended it and that usually he was the one who called it quits; it was just hurt pride making him feel that way. She wasn’t anything special. He was being an idiot.
And yet he found himself brooding. He didn’t even sit on his rooftop terrace any more, watching the sun go down and the lights of Rome bloom in the darkness—because all he could see was Ella and the delight on her face as she looked out over Rome.
He really needed to snap out of it. Focus. It wasn’t as if he had nothing better to do. He had all the details through of The Fountain, a boutique hotel in Bloomsbury; the initial figures stacked up, so all he needed to do was go and see it for himself, see if his gut feel told him it was the right place for Rossi Hotels to expand in London.
London.
Where Ella was.
Maybe he should look her up while he was there. Then he could prove to himself once and for all that what they’d had was nothing out of the ordinary—and he could finally get her out of his head.
Julia plucked a leaflet from Ella’s hand and replaced it with a glass of wine.
Ella shook her head. ‘I don’t need this, Ju—’
‘Yes, you do. Just one sip,’ Julia said. ‘It’ll help you relax.’
‘I’m fine,’ Ella protested.
‘I’ve known you since we were ten. I know when you’re panicking,’ Julia said dryly. ‘And you really don’t need to, you know. Everyone’s going to turn up and it’s going to be a raging success.’
‘That, or the local ducks are going to be having the biggest party in the world tomorrow morning,’ Ella said gloomily.
Julia just laughed. ‘The ducks don’t stand a chance. Once people taste your cakes, they’ll be thinking up excuses to have cakes made for them.’
Ella put the wine down untouched and hugged her friend. ‘Thank you. I really appreciate your support. You know, you’re the sister I never had.’
‘You, too.’ Julia returned the hug.
To her horror, Ella felt tears sting her eyes, and blinked hard. ‘Oh, God. I’ve gone all wet. I’m not going to be able to do this.’
Julia patted her arm. ‘Of course you are. Think about it. You’ve been working like crazy, totally overdoing things, so it’s not surprising you’re tired and feeling a bit emotional. Today’s a big deal for you. Your dream’s finally coming true. Take a swig of that wine and then a deep breath, and you’ll be fine. And remember that you make the best cakes in the whole wide world.’
This time, Ella did as her best friend said.
‘OK?’ Julia asked gently.
‘OK.’ Ella squared her shoulders. ‘Let me go through my list. Wine, soft drinks and glasses, tick. Coffee and tea, tick. Cakes, tick. Business cards on every table, tick. Display book on every table, tick. Extra supplies for filling up plates in the kitchen at the back, tick.’
‘Smile, tick,’ Julia added.
Ella forced herself to smile. ‘Yes.’
The function room was full; people were chatting and talking and clearly having a great time. Rico noticed that there was a woman refilling the plates with beautiful cupcakes in different colours. Clearly Ella’s launch party was a success and the cakes were going like—well, hot cakes.
It took him a matter of seconds to locate her. She was at the far side of the room, talking to someone and writing on a pad—or was she sketching? She looked animated, almost glowing with pleasure. A kick of desire went through him. He could remember how to make her glow even more than that …
Oh, for pity’s sake. It was just sex. He hadn’t slept with anyone since Ella had left Rome; he’d been too busy to date, and this was just a physical reaction to abstinence, he told himself. There was absolutely no reason why his heart should be thumping like this. And he absolutely wasn’t going to give into the temptation to march over to her, sweep her off her feet and kiss her until they were both dizzy. Apart from anything else, it looked as if she was talking to a potential customer. He wasn’t going to barge in and spoil the deal for her. It wouldn’t be fair.
Maybe some coffee would clear his head and bring his common sense back. He went over to the tables where hot and cold drinks were being served, accepted a mug of coffee from the woman serving, and smiled appreciatively at her when she encouraged him to help himself to some cake.
He took one of the smaller cakes and the taste exploded in his mouth. Wow. He’d never eaten chocolate cake this good, before. He tried another. The ivory and deep pink two-tone icing turned out to be raspberry, the tartness of the fruit cutting through the sweetness of the icing. And the peach-coloured one was a glorious riot of passion fruit icing on a coconut base.
He was pretty sure Ella had been a very competent accountant, but she’d been totally wasted in the financial world. Being able to cook like this was a gift, and setting up this business was definitely the right thing for her to do. He ought to back off and leave her be. Except something nagged at him to stay.
Something dragged Ella’s attention from her client. She glanced up briefly to see what was drawing her, and nearly choked when she saw Rico.
No, it couldn’t be him. It had to be someone who looked a bit like him. He was hundreds of miles away, in Rome. And why would he come to her launch party, anyway? She hadn’t invited him. And if she’d really meant anything to him—if the time they’d spent together in Rome had been more than just Rico acting a role to amuse himself—then he would’ve got in touch with her before now. The hotel had all her details from her booking. His silence proved what she’d learned so shockingly on that last day: that it had all been some kind of spoiled playboy’s game. He wasn’t interested in her. He’d made that clear. He’d lied to her when there hadn’t been any need to lie.
But then he caught her eye. Raised his mug. Blew her a kiss.
And every circuit in her brain felt as if it had just fried.
This wasn’t fair. Just when she really needed to concentrate, all she could think of was the way that gorgeous mouth had enjoyed every centimetre of her skin, brought her such glorious pleasure. He was breathtaking to look at, and he made her feel like no one else ever had. Which made him incredibly dangerous to her peace of mind.
She hated the fact that she couldn’t tear her gaze away from him. That she still wanted him every bit as much as she’d wanted him in Rome.
She dropped her pen. Although she knew it made her look clumsy, at least it made her look away from Rico. ‘I’m sorry. I’m not usually this scatty,’ she said apologetically to her client. She forced herself to ignore Rico and concentrate on what she did best, planning and making cakes to delight people. Finally she had all the details of the commission, took a deposit and gave her new client a receipt. She was just putting everything in her briefcase when Rico walked over.
‘Ella bellezza,’ he said softly, his voice low and husky; in response all her hormones sat up and begged.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, trying desperately to sound cooler than she felt.
‘I think we have unfinished business.’
‘No, we don’t.’
‘You walked out on me in Rome without a word.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘You lied your face off. What did you expect, congratulations and a helium balloon?’
‘I think,’ he said, ‘we need to talk.’
She knew what he meant by that. She’d been there before with Michael. No doubt Rico, too, thought he could exercise a bit of charm and talk her round to his point of view. Wrong. She wasn’t repeating her mistakes. ‘I have nothing to say to you.’
‘Is everything OK?’ A tall, statuesque woman appeared beside Ella and gave her a concerned look.
‘It’s fine,’ Rico said, smiling. ‘Ella’s cakes are amazing. And I was about to ask her to make me a special cake.’
She was looking daggers at him, and the other woman clearly picked up the atmosphere. ‘Perhaps I can help you. Ella’s been on the go all day.’
‘You’re Ella’s business partner?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ the woman said.
‘No,’ Ella said at the same time, and sighed. ‘It’s OK, Ju. I’ll deal with this.’
‘Signal me if you need me, Ella,’ Julia said, and gave Rico a hard look, as if warning him to go easy on Ella or he’d have her to deal with.
‘Your guard dog?’ Rico asked.
‘My best friend,’ she corrected. ‘Though, yes, she does look out for me.’ She lifted her chin. ‘What do you want, Rico?’
‘To commission a cake.’
She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘I don’t have time for playing games.’
‘I’m not playing games. I have a business opportunity in London. If I decide to add the hotel to my chain, then I’ll need to have some kind of opening ceremony, and that in turn means I’ll need a cake for the party.’
‘So that’s an “if”. Not a definite.’ She shook her head in disgust. ‘Where do you stop with the lies?’
‘I haven’t lied to you.’
She folded her arms. ‘You told me you were a tour guide.’
‘Which I was. For that day. I’m hands-on in my business. I do a stint in every job, every few months, so I can see the issues my staff face and where things can be improved for both customers and staff. The day I met you, I was a tour guide.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me who you really were?’
‘Because.’ He sighed. ‘Ella, this isn’t the place to discuss it.’
‘You’re telling me.’
‘Can I take you to dinner, when you’ve finished here?’
‘Why?’
‘So you can continue with your launch party and do what you do best. And then we’ll talk.’
‘I …’
‘We have unfinished business,’ he said softly, ‘and you know it, Ella bellezza.’
She scoffed. ‘I don’t think so.’
There was only one way to prove it to her. He stooped very slightly and brushed his mouth against hers in the lightest, sweetest, softest kiss. His mouth tingled where it touched hers.
She shivered, and he noticed that her pupils had dilated hugely.
‘And that was barely a kiss. If I kissed you properly, Ella, neither of us would give a damn that we’re surrounded by strangers. We’d both go up in flames. That’s what I mean by unfinished.’
She swallowed hard. ‘I’m working,’ she whispered.
‘Which is why I suggested dinner. Afterwards.’
She closed her eyes, looking defeated, and for a moment Rico really didn’t like himself for the way he’d pressured her. But he hadn’t done anything wrong—had he? ‘Just dinner, Ella. When we’ve talked things through.’
She opened her eyes again. ‘OK.’
‘Good—and, by the way, your cakes are superb.’ He couldn’t resist just one taunt. ‘I particularly like the passion fruit one.’ He put the emphasis on passion, and Ella blushed to the roots of her hair.
He winked at her, and disappeared back into the crowd.
Flustered, Ella grabbed the mug of coffee she’d abandoned half an hour earlier and took a gulp of the lukewarm liquid.
‘Who was that?’ Julia asked, returning to her side.
‘It’s complicated—a long story.’
‘Tell me after.’
‘I’m, um, having dinner with Rico afterwards.’
‘Rico. Hmm.’ Julia raised an eyebrow. ‘And although his English is perfect, there’s a definite accent there. Would I be right in saying you met him in Rome?’
Ella felt her skin heat. ‘Yes.’
‘You had a fling with him?’
‘Um, yes.’
Julia looked hurt. ‘You never said a word to me.’
‘It’s complicated,’ Ella said again.
‘You don’t have to see him if you don’t want to.’ Then Julia’s eyes narrowed. ‘Hang on. I know you’ve been working like crazy to get things up and running, but I remember the last time you threw yourself into work like this.’
‘He didn’t do a Michael on me, if that’s what you’re asking.’
‘But he knows about your lottery win?’
Ella nodded. ‘That isn’t an issue.’ She could guess what her best friend thought: Rico was a con-man after her money. ‘Actually, the money would be small change to him. He could buy me out ten times over and still have a fortune left.’
‘So if he’s not after your money, what does he want?’
‘Right now, I don’t have a clue.’ That wasn’t strictly true. That kiss had told her a great deal. And it had also made her libido sit up and beg.
Why had he walked back into her life, offering her temptation? Yes, physically it was good between them. Better than it had ever been for her with anyone else. But Rico had already proved to her that she couldn’t trust him. She had no idea who the real Rico was. She wasn’t stupid enough to put herself back in a vulnerable position; so she’d have dinner with him—and she’d tell him to stay out of her life.
She managed to keep her focus on business for the rest of the evening, though it was a real effort; even when she couldn’t see Rico, she was so aware of his presence.
Finally, the last person left the party, and she started to clear up. She could hear noises from the kitchen at the back of the function room, but Julia was in the front with her, collecting plates and mugs. So who was in the back?
She nearly dropped the crockery she was carrying when she walked into the kitchen and saw Rico with his sleeves rolled up and his hands in sudsy water. ‘What are you doing?’
He rolled his eyes. ‘Ask the obvious, Ella bellezza.’
‘But …’
‘The quicker you’re done here, the quicker I get to spend time with you. So it makes sense for me to help you clear up.’
‘I guess so.’
He frowned. ‘You look exhausted.’
‘She’s been working crazy hours since she got back from Rome,’ Julia told him.
‘In that case, I won’t drag you out to dinner tonight, Ella,’ Rico said.
She had a reprieve?
Then he added, ‘I assume you have the makings of an omelette and salad in your fridge, so I’ll cook for you instead. Or order takeaway, if you’d rather.’
‘I …’ She was too tired to think straight. Right at that moment she didn’t have a clue what to say.
He sighed. ‘You really are exhausted.’ He dried his hands, then took the crockery from her. ‘Sit down.’
‘I’ve still got things to clear up out there.’
‘I’ll do it. Don’t argue.’
Before she had time to collect her thoughts, he’d made a mug of coffee for Julia and herself, finished clearing up in the function room, and was back to dealing with the huge pile of washing up.
‘So how do you know each other?’ Julia asked.
‘We met in Rome,’ Rico said.
‘And you’ve come all this way to see Ella?’ She sounded disbelieving.
‘I’m in London on business,’ he said. ‘And I saw the details of the launch party on Ella’s website. So I thought I’d drop in and say hello.’
‘Hmm.’
Ella could tell her best friend was still suspicious of Rico, though the fact that he was helping to clear up without being asked had redeemed him a bit in Julia’s eyes.
‘Is there anything else that needs doing?’ he asked when he’d finished drying the crockery and Julia had put it away.
‘No.’
‘Good.’ He rinsed out the sink. ‘Can I give you a lift home, Julia?’
‘No, I’m fine—I’m only two stops away on the Tube.’
Ella blinked at him. ‘You drove here?’
‘No, I don’t have a car in London. I called a taxi.’ Rico flicked open his phone and speed-dialled a number. ‘Address?’ he asked.
‘Here?’
‘No. Your address.’
Of course. She was too tired to think straight. And that kiss earlier hadn’t helped. She couldn’t stop thinking about it, about the way he made her feel. Bad, bad idea. She mumbled her address at him.
‘The taxi will be here in a quarter of an hour,’ he said.
It gave them enough time to lock up.
‘I think,’ he said softly when they were inside her flat, ‘you’re too tired to talk tonight.’
‘I am.’
‘You look all in.’ He rummaged in her fridge.
She frowned. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Making you something to eat.’
‘I’m not hungry.’
‘Tough. You need to eat to keep your strength up. Especially if you’re working crazy hours.’
He made her an omelette, then sat opposite her with his arms folded until she ate it. The food was surprisingly good, but then she already knew he could cook. One thing he hadn’t lied about.
‘Aren’t you having anything?’ she asked.
‘I’ll eat later.’ He flapped a dismissive hand. ‘I don’t usually eat until late anyway.’
He washed up her empty plate and cleared up in the kitchen. ‘I’ll call you tomorrow. We can do lunch, or dinner—whatever fits in your schedule.’
‘What about yours?’
‘I can be flexible.’ He touched her cheek gently with the backs of his fingers, a sweet and cherishing gesture. ‘Goodnight, Ella bellezza. I’ll speak to you tomorrow. Sleep well.’
She was pretty sure she wouldn’t. He’d just turned her upside down all over again.
And yet she was out like a light the second her head hit the pillow. The next thing she knew, her alarm was beeping crazily.
She showered and washed her hair, and was halfway through drinking a mug of coffee when the phone rang. She grabbed it without looking at the display. ‘Ella Chandler.’
‘Buongiorno, Ella bellezza.’’
That sexy, melted-chocolate voice undid all the good that the caffeine had done in sharpening her brain again. And she hated the way her libido betrayed her like this, turning her into a puddle of hormones. A pushover. ‘Good morning.’
‘So, are you having lunch with me today or dinner?’
‘Do we really have anything to say to each other?’
‘I think we do.’
She sighed. ‘Dinner, then.’
‘Good. I’ll pick you up at eight.’
Before she could protest, the line went dead.