her secret for too long to part with it now.
Trust, even this degree of trust, was so new to her it felt unfamiliar so she drew her hand away from his. ‘Enough of that. Tonight is about having fun.’
And she realised with a lurch that every moment she’d spent with him had been fun. Even when they were fighting, he made her laugh. Unsettled by that realisation, she lightened her tone. ‘Good job the board can’t see you now lying naked on a public beach. I think you’re newfound respectability just died a death, Corretti.’
‘What the board doesn’t see the board can’t moan about. And it isn’t a public beach.’ He wrapped his arms around her and hauled her back to him, showing no urgency to get dressed, and she relaxed against him. Why not? It was perfect lying here with only the sounds of the sea for company.
‘What do you mean? If it isn’t public, what are we doing here?’
‘It’s my beach. Private. There’s a path that leads up to the house from here.’
‘Seriously?’ She lifted her head and stared at him through the semi-darkness. ‘We’re that close? So we could leave the car and just walk?’
‘If you want to. But it’s not easy to follow in the dark and it’s steep. Car would be faster.’
‘Then let’s take the car.’ Suddenly she wanted to be home with him and she sprang to her feet and tugged her clothes out from under him. ‘I have no idea what happened to the wig.’
‘Doesn’t matter. It served its purpose.’ The serious nature of their conversation forgotten, he took her hand and they sprinted back to the car.
Taylor sat, covered in sand and happiness, wishing her life could always be like this.
‘I enjoyed being Teresa. It was fun.’ And she rarely did anything for fun. Fun wasn’t part of her plan.
‘Having fun suits you. You were built to have fun.’ He shot out a hand to steady her as the car lurched up the road. ‘Only next time let’s have fun in the Ferrari. I don’t mind buying you a wig but I draw the line at driving this car again.’
‘Where is the Ferrari?’
‘Hopefully back in the garage with no damage to the paintwork.’
‘I’m covered in sand. What if Geovana sees us?’
‘She’ll thoroughly approve, but I’d rather avoid that conversation if possible.’
Like naughty children, they sneaked into the house, trailing sand on polished wood.
‘We are going to be in trouble tomorrow.’ She gasped as Luca nudged her into the shower, removed her clothes for the second time in one evening and turned on the jets.
‘Then it’s a good thing I’ve never been frightened of trouble.’
Taylor opened her mouth to ask what would happen when everyone found out their relationship was fake, but then closed it again.
Tonight, she didn’t want to think that this was fake. And this part wasn’t, was it? The engagement—sure, that was fake. But everything else?
No, not this part, with his hands in her hair and his mouth hot and demanding on hers. This was definitely real, and she closed her eyes and let the water wash over her. Felt his hands move lower, gasped at the skilled slide of his fingers over the most sensitive parts of her and after that she stopped thinking at all and just let herself feel.
They fell into a routine—work during the day and each other at night. Neither of them used the word relationship, nor any other word that might have implied their arrangement had in any way veered from the original plan.
Taylor found working with Ella, the new director, fulfilling and fun.
Of Rafaele she’d heard nothing and even her phone was silent.
She started to relax for the first time in years. It occurred to her that maybe Luca had frightened him off.
And although she and Luca kept up their public appearances, he was remarkably good at protecting her privacy and giving her space.
It was several weeks after Rafaele’s departure when she woke one morning to find herself alone in the bed.
Luca was standing on the balcony of the bedroom wearing nothing but a pair of hastily pulled-on jeans, nursing a cup of strong coffee as he stared into the distance.
Taylor slid out of bed and walked over to him. ‘You have the board meeting today. Is that why you’re awake?’
‘I’m enjoying a few moments of smug satisfaction that my interior make-over has had such an impact on profits. Profits of Corretti Home are up by thirty per cent and I have a