Cinderella In The Sicilian's World. Sharon Kendrick

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      He had commandeered a shaded table which sat on the edge of the sea, where, after a little persuasion, she had removed her socks and trainers so that her bare toes could wriggle luxuriously in the sand. Then she’d sat back in her chair watching the crystal blue waters lapping against the crushed silver shore, as armies of waiters rushed over to serve them. It was the most luxurious thing which had happened in her twenty-eight years and Lina found herself savouring every moment. Terrified of doing the wrong thing, she’d watched Salvatore closely throughout the meal to make sure she didn’t let herself down. But he had surprised her. He hadn’t behaved remotely how she thought a billionaire would behave. He hadn’t ordered lobster or scallops or any of the fancier items which adorned the menu. Instead, he had rolled up the sleeves of his white silk shirt and devoured his meal as hungrily as any labourer and Lina had been surprised at his very traditional choice of tomato sauce, fried aubergine and ricotta cheese.

      ‘I didn’t notice it on the menu,’ she said.

      ‘That’s because it isn’t. But they always make it for me when I come here.’

      ‘Was it something your mother used to cook?’ she guessed.

      As far as she was aware, it was the only awkward part of the meal for his face suddenly grew cold. Cold as the ice bobbing around in her glass of sparkling water. Suddenly his voice sounded like stone. ‘No,’ he clipped out. ‘My mother wasn’t into cooking.’

      She found herself wishing she could take the words back and attempted to lighten the mood by asking other questions, more questions about his life, and he filled in some of the gaps which village gossip had been unable to provide. He told her that he’d been a humble waiter in America when he had overheard his boss complaining how difficult it was to transfer money internationally. At the time, Salvatore had been doing a course on digital technology at night school and this one remark had inspired him to invent an amazingly simple phone app which solved just that problem. He’d made a fortune in the process.

      ‘Just like that?’ Lina asked, wide-eyed.

      ‘Just like that,’ he agreed.

      ‘And then what did you do?’

      He then went on to explain that he had diversified, buying up property and department stores and a small airplane company which chartered rich passengers between the different Caribbean islands. And when he’d made more money than any man could spend in a hundred lifetimes, he poured his funds into a charitable foundation for children, set up in his name.

      But he seemed more interested in talking about her, though Lina couldn’t quite shake off the feeling that he was regarding her with the interest one might display towards an unusual exhibit at the zoo. Maybe he saw her as some kind of relic as she chattered away about the family dressmaking business. Like some sort of curiosity.

      She remembered his stand-out incredulous question.

      ‘So you’ve never even been abroad?’

      ‘I almost did once,’ she replied, a little defensively. ‘Last year, I was supposed to go to Florida for my cousin’s wedding and I was going to spend a little time working out there, but...’

      ‘But?’ he probed.

      ‘My mother got ill and said she’d rather I didn’t go, so I didn’t.’

      ‘Let me guess—she got better straight away?’

      ‘She did, yes. How did you know that?’

      He had given a bitter laugh. ‘Human nature. Otherwise known as manipulation. You don’t need to be a genius to work it out.’

      But now the empty coffee cups and scatter of amaretti crumbs on the table indicated that the meal was well and truly over and Lina was aware that she really ought to make a move.

      ‘I’d better go,’ she said again.

      ‘You sound as if you don’t want to go anywhere,’ he observed, lifting his fingers in a careless gesture, which instantly had a waiter scurrying towards them with the bill. ‘Is there something special you need to be back for?’

      Lina couldn’t help the feeling of dread which fluttered inside her stomach as she reached beneath the table to retrieve her trainers and wondered what he’d say if he knew what she was really going home to. Not the pared-down and slightly amusing version of village life with which she’d regaled him, but her mother’s sour face and incessant demands. Cheap denim and cotton stacked into high piles, waiting for her to turn them into skirts and shirts and knock-off designer dresses. The endless hours alone with her whirring sewing machine and then those long and desperately lonely evenings which followed—the silence broken only by the constant chiming of the church bells. Suddenly it all seemed so empty—and more than a little bit sad. Was that what made her look into his eyes with a sudden rush of resolve, which was accompanied by an unfamiliar sense of defiance?

      ‘Not really, no,’ she said. ‘I’ll have to get back in time for dinner, of course.’

      ‘Of course.’ There was the merest flicker of a pause as he deposited a wad of notes on top of the bill and his blue eyes were shuttered when he glanced up at her again. He slid his wallet back into his jacket pocket. ‘Well, then. What would you have been doing this afternoon if you hadn’t bumped into me?’

      Lina thought about it. She would have driven to her favourite hidden cove, hoping that nobody else would be there. And, after swimming until she was cool and pleasantly tired, she would be attempting to brush the stubborn sand from her body and performing a few clumsy acrobatics as she tried to modestly remove her swimsuit from behind a towel. ‘I was planning on going swimming,’ she said.

      He looked across at the rows of loungers which were laid in neat lines. ‘Swimming?’ he repeated. ‘You mean here?’

      Lina followed his gaze, noting that the occupants of the loungers wore bikinis which were little more than a series of flimsy triangles, which someone as curvy as her would never be able to get away with. She thought about the swimsuit she’d stuffed at the bottom of her rucksack. Imagine the reaction if she took to this exclusive beach wearing that! She’d probably be frogmarched straight off for committing a crime against fashion!

      ‘No, not here,’ she said quickly. ‘This beach is private. Only guests of the hotel are allowed to use it.’

      ‘Oh, don’t worry about that,’ he said, with the cool confidence of a man for whom no door was ever closed. ‘Nobody’s going to stop you from swimming.’

      Not while you’re with me, went the unspoken subtext but Lina still shook her head. ‘No, honestly,’ she said quickly, unable to keep the sudden panic from her voice. ‘Forget I ever said it. I don’t... I don’t really want to swim here, if it’s all the same with you.’

      He gave her a considered look. ‘Well, what about a swim at my villa, if you don’t want an audience?’

      Lina’s throat thickened with an emotion she didn’t recognise. Just as she didn’t recognise the sudden hopeful squeak of her voice. ‘You mean you’re staying here? In Sicily?’

      He shrugged. ‘Only tonight. My plane will take me back to San Francisco tomorrow.’

      ‘I don’t want to put you to any trouble.’

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