India Grey - The Italian's Defiant Wife by Anja

Author:Anja
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2012-04-27T20:07:38+00:00

Chapter 8

‘You travel very light,’ Raphael remarked drily, taking Eve’s single tattered bag as they walked across the tarmac towards the Lazaro jet.

‘I know. I’m sorry. I’m hopelessly scruffy,’ Eve muttered, miserably aware of the pitiful figure she must cut in comparison with the designer-clad, high-maintenance women Raphael was used to.

Ever since they’d left the villa she’d been unable to meet his eye, frozen by sudden shyness in his presence. She’d accepted his invitation to go to Venice because, as she’d told Lou last night, she had no intention of returning to England without proof of his guilt or otherwise. But she was not yet so deluded that she couldn’t see that it was also because leaving him now would be unbearable.

Walking beside him, she felt every cell of her body respond to his nearness. It was going to be an uncomfortable trip, she thought in anguish.

‘I thought we made a deal? No more apologies—it’s getting quite ridiculous.

Anyway, you have nothing to be sorry about. You may not be at the cutting edge of fashion, but you certainly have style.’ His tone was offhand—slightly bored, even—and he glanced down at her with a faint smile tinged with irony. ‘Perhaps it’s what your magazine would call “minimalist chic”?’

Eve looked down at her beloved but distinctly worn jewelled sandals. ‘I think it’s what any magazine would call “in need of a makeover”.’

‘Well, I’m sure Nico will approve,’ Raphael said, gesturing to the steward, who was coming towards them to relieve them of their small amount of luggage.

Last time Raphael had used Antonio’s jet Catalina had been with him. Catalina and four cases, plus one large trunk containing all her cosmetics. A weekend away with her had always felt a little like embarking on an Edwardian Grand Tour.

‘I haven’t brought anything smart, I’m afraid. To be perfectly honest, I haven’t actually got anything smart.’

‘In that case we’ll just have to go shopping.’

‘No! I couldn’t. I—’

Raphael cut through her objections. ‘After you.’

Eve hesitated for a fraction of a second, then swallowed hard and went up the steps of the plane. In her head she repeated her usual pre-flight mantra. Flying is statistically safer than crossing the road. Adding hastily at the last minute, Therefore I will not give Raphael di Lazaro the satisfaction of seeing me burst into tears on take-off.

As he stood back to allow Eve to climb the steps to the plane ahead of him, Raphael found himself staring at her, drinking in her fresh simplicity. She was wearing yesterday’s faded khaki combat trousers, rolled back to reveal slim, brown ankles, and had changed the damp shirt for a delicately embroidered and pin-tucked Victorian chemise with a low, lace-trimmed neckline that was simultaneously demure and sexy as hell.

Moodily he pushed a hand through his hair. Gone was the overt seductiveness of last night, but the shy self-effacement that had replaced it was having just as powerful an effect on his testosterone levels. Sticking to his resolution wasn’t going to be easy, he realised grimly, barely managing a smile at the pilot who awaited them at the top of the steps.

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