Her First-Date Honeymoon. Katrina Cudmore

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СКАЧАТЬ me why I should give it to you.’

      This would be so much easier if he wasn’t so gorgeous—if he wasn’t so self-assured, so ice-cool.

      ‘I will work myself to the bone for you because I have so much to prove. To you—but especially to myself.’

      He stared at her as though she was a discount store garment made of polyester. It looked as if she would be packing soon. A heavy sensation sat on her chest—embarrassment, disappointment.

      ‘As I’m stuck, I’ll let you take on the position—but any mishaps and you’re gone.’

      His scowl told her he wasn’t joking. Her ankle and heart began to throb in unison.

      He came a little closer. Studied her for far too long for her comfort.

      ‘You will need to stay here...’

      For a moment he paused, and a heavy boom of attraction detonated between them. She fell into the brown sultry depths of his eyes. An empty ache coiled through her. Heat licked against her skin. She pulled the neck of her jumper down, suddenly overheating.

      Matteo stepped back, tugged at his cuffs and cleared his throat. ‘I will require frequent briefings from you, so you will need to stay here. I’m hosting a reception in the ballroom on Thursday night, which I will want you to co-ordinate and host alongside me.’ He flicked his hand towards the palazzo. ‘If you come with me to my office I’ll brief you on the event schedule and then pass you the files.’

      Emma walked alongside him, her enflamed skin welcoming the shade of the palazzo. But her mind continued to race, asking her what on earth she had just done.

      Could she keep her promise that nothing would go wrong? What if she slipped up and he saw even a glimpse of how attracted she was to him? An attraction that was embarrassingly wrong. Humiliatingly wrong. Shamefully wrong. She had been about to marry another man yesterday. What was the matter with her?

      They walked side by side into the deeper shadows of the palazzo, and she felt guilt and sadness closing over her heart.

      * * *

      Later that afternoon, his phone to his ear, Matteo walked into the temporary office Emma had set up for herself in the palazzo’s dining room.

      Sheets of paper were scattered across the table. He tidied the paper into a bundle. A long navy silk crêpe de Chine scarf dotted with bright red gerbera daisy flowers was tossed across the back of a chair, the ends touching against the terrazzo flooring. A bright exclamation against the dark wood. He folded it quickly and hid it from view by placing it on the seat of the dining chair.

      His call continued to ring unanswered.

      Where was she?

      He had told her to be back at the palazzo by four so that he could take her to see his stores on Calle Larga XXII Marzo. She needed to be familiar with his companies and their products before her interactions with the clients.

      Before lunch they had spent two hours running through the visit’s itinerary. Two hours during which he had questioned his judgement in agreeing to her taking over the event co-ordinator role.

      With her every exclamation of delight over the events planned, with every accidental touch as they worked through the files, with every movement that caused her jumper to pull on her breasts he had become more and more fixated with watching her.

      And throughout the morning she had progressively impressed and surprised him with her attention to detail. Impressed him because she had picked up on some timing problems he hadn’t spotted. Surprised him because, tidiness-wise, the woman was a disaster.

      Obviously timekeeping wasn’t a strength either.

      The Chinese delegation were arriving in Venice this evening. He had to be at Hotel Cipriani at eight to greet them on their arrival. Emma had travelled over there, at her suggestion, after lunch to meet with the hotel co-ordinator and the interpreter employed for the duration of the visit.

      He hit the call button again.

      After yet more infuriating rings, she eventually answered.

      He didn’t wait for her to speak, ‘Dove sei? Where are you?’

      ‘I’m not sure.’ There was a hint of panic to her voice. ‘After my meetings in Hotel Cipriani I decided I would visit the restaurant booked for the clients later this week on Giudecca. I found the restaurant and spoke to the owner and the chef. But when I left I must have gone in the wrong direction, because I’m totally lost. I can’t find my way back to the vaporetto stop.’

      Now he really was regretting his decision to employ her. ‘Can’t you ask someone to help you?’

      ‘I have! But each time I follow their directions I end up even more lost down another narrow alleyway.’

      Dio! ‘Can you see a street name anywhere?’

      ‘Hold on...yes, I see one! Calle Ca Rizzo.’

      ‘Stay there. I’ll come and get you.’

      ‘There’s no need. I’ll—’

      He hung up before she had time to start arguing with him. It was already past four.

      * * *

      Emma placed her phone back into her padded jacket’s pocket, her already racing heart now acting as if it was taking part in the international finals of the one hundred metre sprint. The day had been going so well until she had gone and got lost in this warren of laneways or, as they were called locally, calli that made up Giudecca, an island suburb of Venice.

      Her meetings in the opulent surroundings of Hotel Cipriani had gone smoothly, all the little extras she’d requested had been accommodated, and she had then made her way to Ristorante Beccherie, excited at the stunning views across the water to St Mark’s Square, the Basilica di San Marco and the Campanile clearly visible under the clear blue sky.

      After her meeting at the restaurant she hadn’t minded getting lost at first. She had been enchanted by the three-and four-storey medieval red-brick houses on deserted narrow alleyways, by the washing hanging between the houses like bunting, the endless footbridges crossing over the maze of canals. The lack of the sounds of the twenty-first century because of the absence of cars.

      But as she’d grown increasingly disorientated, her uneasiness had increased. She’d ended up in dead-end alleyways, silent and beautiful courtyards with no obvious signage.

      Matteo was annoyed with her. No—scratch that. He’d sounded ballistic. Would he fire her on her first day?

      She walked over to the canal that ran diagonally to the start of Calle Ca Rizzo and moved down onto the canal steps. The temperature was dropping and the cold stone bit against her skin.

      Matteo was like Venice. Utterly beautiful but completely frustrating. All morning she had tried to remain professional, but she had been constantly distracted.

      Distracted by his deep, potent musky scent when he moved closer to her to point something out in the file sitting between them.

      Distracted СКАЧАТЬ