The Italian's Final Redemption - Jackie Ashenden Page 0,40

fabrics, and all her size, and she, who’d never been much of a clothes person, found herself smiling as she pulled out a light, gauzy dress made out of pale green silk.

It was pretty, and when she put it on she could see how the colour brought out the green in her eyes. Immediately, her first thought was about what Vincenzo would think if he saw her in it and whether he would like it.

Your mother would have liked it too.

Oh, she would. She’d loved dressing Lucy up and Lucy had loved it too, but after Kathy had died she’d lost all interest in her appearance. Faint glimmers of interest were returning, though.

Perhaps it was silly to want to look nice for a man, especially a man who was still her enemy in many ways, but she decided she didn’t care if it was silly or not and kept the dress on. She attempted to do something with her mass of hair, but, since she wasn’t sure what, having never paid much attention to styling it before, she left it loose. Besides, she was hungry and wanted some breakfast.

She went downstairs to the terrace, where all the main meals of the day were served, hoping to find Vincenzo already there. But he wasn’t. The table was set and food was on it, but the place was empty.

The disappointment she’d felt on waking returned and she turned around to go back inside and search for him, only to stop.

Why was she going to find him? What did she think she’d say? They’d spent the night together, that was all. No promises had been made, nothing had been said.

He’d given her pleasure and it had been the most incredible experience of her life, but he was still who he was. That hadn’t changed. Nothing had changed.

But perhaps you have.

A strange feeling pulsed through her, part certainty, part strength. As if last night he’d given her some of his, along with the pleasure.

Yes, she had changed. She felt...different. More sure. Less afraid. And maybe if she had the urge to find him, to tell him that she wanted him again, then she should do it. He’d told her to be honest, that it was precious, so why shouldn’t she be honest with him?

Avoiding things and hiding was what she’d done in the past and that had kept her safe. But safety was beginning to look overrated to her now. He’d given her a night without fear, a night of pleasure and warmth, and she wanted more.

She only had a few days left of it, after all—if she couldn’t change his mind, that was.

First, though, she would eat.

Fifteen minutes later, full of coffee, bacon and some delicious pastries, Lucy went to find Martina to ask where Vincenzo was. Through some emphatic gestures, she understood that he was in his office and wasn’t to be disturbed.

That gave her a moment’s pause. Did that apply to just her or did that mean he didn’t want to be disturbed by anyone? She only needed five minutes. That was allowable, wasn’t it? Deciding that it was, she made her way to his office.

It was at the other end of the villa and the door was closed, so Lucy gave it a discreet knock. When there was no reply she stood there a second, debating, but then, nothing ventured, nothing gained, so she opened it quietly and went in.

The room was large, with fabulous views out over another terrace, a formal garden below that led all the way to the edge of the cliff and then the sea. A big desk stood near a set of high, arched windows and behind it stood the tall, powerful figure of Vincenzo.

He faced the windows with his back to the door, talking on the phone in his beautiful Italian, his voice calm and casual-sounding. His usual tone.

He wasn’t in a suit today, wearing a pair of well-worn jeans that sat low on his hips and a faded blue T-shirt. As casual as his voice. A man doing a bit of light work on the weekend.

Except there was nothing casual about the tension that gathered in his broad shoulders and back, and even standing where she was by the door she could sense it. Was something bad happening? Did it have to do with her father?

She slipped into the room and closed the door behind her, moving over to the desk and pausing in front of it. Obviously hearing her footstep, he swung