The Italians: Rico, Antonio and Giovanni: The Hidden Heart of Rico Rossi / The Moretti Seduction / The Boselli Bride. Kate Hardy

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      ‘Oh. So they’re not official—not part of the Colosseum itself?’ She looked disappointed, and then slightly wary.

      ‘They’re freelance. And sometimes they can be a bit pushy. But they won’t be pushy with you, because you’re with me.’ He smiled. ‘And I’m happy to take as many photographs for you as you wish. It’s all part of the tour service.’

      ‘Thank you.’

      Once they were through the entrance and he’d paid for the tickets, Rico took Ella through into the building, showing her where the different classes of people would have sat to enjoy the shows. He took photographs of her with the iconic arches of the Colosseum behind her and a view over the arena and the basement; even though she was wearing sunglasses in the bright Roman sunlight, he could tell that her smile reached her eyes. And her pleasure in the place was infectious. He’d grown used to thinking of it as just one of the buildings near his hotel. But seeing Ella’s reaction made him look at the building again. And he could see what she saw: a truly spectacular place, more than just the iconic symbol of the city. This was the epicentre, where emperors had held processions and entertained the entire city. Where ordinary people had seen lions and bears and elephants, creatures they would never see in their daily lives.

      On the second floor, he took her through to the temporary exhibition. ‘Apart from the written sources we have, the graffiti gives us a pretty good idea of the kind of spectacles people saw here.’ He showed her a leaping wolf scratched into the stone, and a gladiator fighting with a net. Ella pushed her sunglasses up to rest on the top of her head so she could take a closer look, and the expression of sheer wonder in her eyes fascinated him. How long had it been since something had enthralled him like that? Too many years to count …

      At thirty, Rico was jaded way beyond his years—and he knew it.

      Not that he was going to beat himself up about it. He didn’t have time. He had an empire to run.

      When they left the Colosseum, Rico took Ella past Constantine’s triumphal arch. ‘This is my favourite view of the building,’ he said, stopping to give her time to turn round and admire it.

      ‘It’s spectacular. Everything I thought it would be,’ she said softly. ‘Thank you so much.’

      ‘Hey, it’s my job,’ he said. Mainly to remind himself that she was a client, and that made her off limits. And even if she wasn’t off limits, she wasn’t his type. He always dated tall, slender, sophisticated women who knew the rules and didn’t make any emotional demands on him. In return, he gave them the lifestyle they wanted. Temporarily. Nobody had ever tempted him to make it permanent.

      He forced his thoughts back to the job in hand. ‘Let me show you through the Forum next.’

      ‘Is this the place where Marc Antony did the speech—well, according to Shakespeare?’ she asked.

      He laughed. ‘Yes. Normally you can hear half the tour guides declaiming it.’ He pointed to some columns in the distance. ‘The spot where he gave the funeral oration is at the New Rostrum—over there by the Temple of Saturn.’

      ‘Is that what you do, as a tour guide? Declaim the speech?’

      She had dimples, he noticed. The cutest, cutest dimples.

      And it took Rico a real effort to concentrate on her question instead of reaching over to touch her cheek, to find out if her skin was as soft as it looked. What on earth was wrong with him? He never got distracted like this. Ever. ‘I can do. Unless you’d rather do it?’

      ‘I know it’s a bit touristy, but would you mind if I did?’

      ‘Sure. Do you have a video setting on your camera? I could film it for the people back home, if you like.’

      ‘That’s so nice of you.’

      No, he most definitely wasn’t nice. His last girlfriend had said he was a machine, totally focused on his work—because he’d refused to change his rules for her. But he supposed that Rico the tour guide would be nice, at least on the surface. ‘It’s what I’m here for. To make Rome feel like home for you.’

      Ella showed him how the camera worked and her fingers accidentally brushed against his. Awareness flooded through his whole body and he almost gasped. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d reacted this strongly towards someone; and it was as much as he could do to concentrate on taking the film while she declaimed the speech.

      ‘You have a very clear voice, and you spoke it well,’ he said when she’d finished and he handed the camera back to her.

      ‘Thank you.’

      She blushed. Very prettily. He couldn’t help wondering what she’d look like, all flushed and drowsy with pleasure. Pleasure that he’d just made her feel.

      Enough. He really shouldn’t be thinking about Ella Chandler in sexual terms. She was a client, for pity’s sake. So what if she was the first woman to intrigue him like this in more than three years, since he’d taken over as CEO of Rossi Hotels? He knew how fleeting sexual attraction was. And he didn’t have time to let her distract him.

      As they walked back up towards the Via Nova, Ella looked enchanted by the wisteria that grew along the wires, the leaves making a kind of canopy and the pale purple blooms hanging down.

      ‘Hand me your camera and smile,’ he directed, and took several shots of her with the wisteria framing her.

      There was a secluded corner of his roof garden just like this. And he suddenly had the strongest vision of kissing her there under the night sky, her palm cupping his cheek and his hands tangled in her hair, her mouth opening underneath his to let him deepen the kiss …

      Help. He needed to get back to a neutral topic. Fast. Something that didn’t make him think about sex. This was so inappropriate, it was untrue. Plus it unsettled him that she could have this sort of effect on him. He’d never found it hard to concentrate on work before.

      ‘What do you do at home?’ he asked.

      ‘My job, you mean?’ She shrugged. ‘I’m an accountant.’

      ‘And you enjoy it?’

      ‘It’s a safe job.’

      He noticed she hadn’t said that she enjoyed it. Odd. Why had she gone for a safe job, rather than one that would make her happy?

      As an accountant, she probably spent most of her time at her desk. She didn’t look the type to hit the gym or go running every morning. He’d already taken her on a longish walk, climbing up stairs and across uneven ground; and, since she wanted to see several other landmarks as well, they still had a fair bit of ground to cover. Exhausting his customers wasn’t a good business idea. He’d better schedule in a rest break.

      ‘Time to flop, I think,’ he said. ‘Let’s go and have some lunch.’

      He took her to a tiny osteria where he knew the food was good, and found them a table in a little courtyard with vines growing across like a canopy to protect diners from the midday sun.

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