‘You’re always dating.’
‘Yes.’
‘So what’s the difference?’ Ariana frowned. ‘I might be innocent in the bedroom, but I am not stupid, Gian...’
‘I never said you were.’
‘I’m not asking for love. I don’t want lies to appease and promises that you won’t keep,’ Ariana said. ‘I’m all too familiar with them, but I do want you to make love to me.’
‘Ariana—’
‘No,’ she broke in, and they argued in loud Italian all the way home. ‘Don’t make me ashamed for admitting it. I’m twenty-five and a virgin. I don’t want to be married, Gian. Do you not think my mother has endless suitors in mind for me? I can’t have a casual relationship or it will be a kiss and tell. You know that...’
He looked at the spoilt, immature Ariana speaking like the woman she was.
‘Surely there have been kisses...?’
‘Yes,’ she admitted, ‘plastic kisses from plastic men, but your kiss nearly made me come.’
He laughed because she fascinated him.
Like a stunning portrait, like a song you had to pause just to go back and listen to the lyrics again.
He loved how she stated her case.
They argued all the way to the swish apartment block where she lived. ‘I get that I’m not as experienced or as worldly as Svetlana...’
‘Stop,’ Gian said. ‘Just stop right there. Why would you sign up for inevitable hurt, Ariana?’ Gian asked. ‘You know it’ll go public, and you know your family will find out, and I know that I’ll end things...’
‘How?’ Ariana asked. She wasn’t begging or persuading, more genuinely perplexed. ‘How do you know?’
‘Because I never want to get too close. I date women who understand from the get-go that we’ll never progress further than we did on the very first night.’
‘So I would get no more than a kiss and a cone of hot chestnuts,’ she teased. ‘Well, rest assured, you wouldn’t have to worry about dumping me, Gian. I would grow bored with you very quickly.’
He didn’t smile at her joke and he would not relent, but rather than face being alone she turned off the voices in her head and tried to argue with a kiss. She put her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth to his, but there was no longer solace there for his was pressed closed and unyielding, and she sobbed as he pulled his head back.
‘Go in!’ he warned her.
‘Please, Gian, I don’t want to be lonely tonight.’
But when he remained silent, Ariana got the message. He did not want her, so she scrabbled around for her dignity. ‘Thank you for seeing me to my door.’
‘Get some sleep.’ Gian said.
‘Oh, please,’ Ariana scoffed as she huffed off. ‘As if that’s going to happen.’
He watched her leave, and by honouring Rafael he felt like he’d failed her. ‘Ariana...’ Gian called out, and it troubled him how quickly she turned and was back at his side.
He would not sleep with her, no matter how much they both wanted it.
He would do the right thing by Rafael and Ariana.
‘I’ll come in, but I’m taking the sofa.’ She nodded, both regret and relief flooding through her as he spoke on. ‘You don’t have to be alone tonight.’
CHAPTER SIX
THEY PASSED THE dozing doorman and took the elevator, although Gian stood like a security guard to the side of her, rather than like a man who had almost kissed her to orgasm.
She was all dishevelled in her head as they stepped into her apartment. ‘Thankfully,’ Ariana said as she closed the drapes, ‘it was serviced while I was away, or we would be knee-deep in...’ Her voice trailed off.
Knee-deep in what? Gian wanted to ask, for there was no real evidence of her here. He could be walking into any well-heeled woman’s apartment in Rome—and Gian had walked into many—and the décor would be much the same. It was all very tasteful with plump sofas and modern prints, yet it was rather like a show home and there was barely a hint of Ariana. Even her bookshelves offered no real clues, for there were a few classics on the shelves as well as elegant coffee table books. There were at least some photos up, but even they seemed carefully chosen to show, so to speak, only her best side.
‘Do you want a drink?’ Ariana offered.
‘No, thank you.’
Now that she had him here, Ariana didn’t quite know what to do with him. It was, she thought, a bit like stealing a bear from the zoo, making it your mission to get him home and then...
‘I’ll show you around,’ she offered, ‘where you’re sleeping. Given that you’d rather it wasn’t with me.’
‘I don’t need a tour,’ Gian responded. ‘I will stay here.’ He pointed to the sofa.
‘I do have a guest room.’
‘I’m not here to relax.’
‘You are such a cold comfort.’
‘Better than no comfort at all. I do have some scruples, Ariana. I am not going to make love to you on the night of your father’s funeral when you are upset and not thinking straight.’
‘Oh, believe me, I am thinking straight. Life is short, Gian, life is for living, for loving.’
‘Then you’ve come to the wrong man because, as I’ve repeatedly said, I don’t do love.’
She wanted to stamp her feet. She knew she was being a bit of a diva but she was beyond caring.
When Ariana wanted something, she wanted it now, and when she’d made up her mind...well, it was made up.
‘Can you unzip my dress, please?’ Ariana lifted her hair and stood with her back to him, waiting for the teeniest indicator—a run of his finger, a lingering palm, him holding his breath—as he found the little clasp at the top of the velvet dress and undid it. Yet Gian was a master of self-control and without lingering he tugged the zip down so that her back and the lacy straps of her black bra were exposed.
‘There,’ he said, with all the excitement of an accountant relocating a decimal point.
She turned around and
