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She evidently didn’t share any of his feelings on that score.
“It’s been decided. I’ll be on the flight over.”
Portia groaned. “This can’t happen.”
Okay, he had a robust enough ego not to be wounded but he was definitely not loving the way her reaction made him feel.
“What’s your worry?”
“I’m a terrible liar,” she said with a groan, pressing a palm to her forehead. “Dante knows me almost as well as anyone on earth.” Something barbed in Marco’s chest. “He’s going to take one look at us—at the way I am when you’re near me—and he’s going toknow.”
“And how are you when you’re near me?” He demanded. To hell with it, he thought, as he crossed the room and stood right in front of her, an expression of haughty impatience on his features.
She pressed a hand to her chest. “We can’t fool him. And I don’t know who he’d be shittier with—me or you—but he’ll be pissed. And my job…which is all I have left, in so many ways, will never be the same. You told me you wouldn’t hurt me,” she reminded him. “I need you to not hurt me.”
Something was cracking inside his chest. Disbelief, frustration, impatience. “This is supposed to be fun,” he reminded her. “What’s more fun than sneaking around in one of the most romantic, beautiful cities in the world?”
“I don’t want romance!” She said, loudly, then made an effort to lower her voice. “I don’t want beauty.”
“You want sex,” he answered, wondering at the cold edge to his voice when she was saying things that were perfectly reasonable and sensible.
“Yeah.” She closed her eyes. “Please, work out a way around this.”
“I have to go,” Marco said after a beat. “But you can always stay in London, run Dante’s life from here.”
Her eyes lifted to Marco’s and he wondered what she saw there? He couldn’t say how he was feeling. He’d sought to reassure her, and instead, she’d balked even worse than he’d anticipated, changing their plans entirely.
“You never come on stuff like this.”
“Acto is important.”
“Because of the Valentinos?”
“I don’t care about that family rivalry shit, but my brothers do. My cousins do. My parents sure as hell do. So yes,cara,because of the Valentinos, and because Acto is stuffing us around and they should be called out on that.”
Her lips parted and he yearned to kiss her, to make her his.
“You’re right,” she said softly, pressing a hand to his chest. “Go to Florence with Dante. I’ll see you when you get back.”
“You’re seriously not going to come?”
“I can’t. Dante can never know about this—,”
“He won’t.”
“I told you, I can’t lie to save my life.”
“It’s not a lie not to tell him every single detail of our personal lives.”
“That’s semantics, and you know it.”
“You’re serious?”
“Yeah, absolutely. I’ll see you when you get back.”
Marco scowled, bit back a curse, then nodded.
“Fine.” But desire was lashing him, making him want to throw down the gauntlet, to demand more of her than he suspected she wanted to give. Again he remembered the skittish cat analogy and knew he had to step gently to avoid scaring her off. “I’ll come over when we get back.”
