Her Roman Holiday

by Jamie Anderson

  He shrugged. “You are the one who is upset by what I say. So, it is you whom I seek to appease by apologizing for any aspect of it that you find offensive.”

  Calia was surprised by the admission. “But don’t you feel any genuine regret over what you’ve said?”

  “I feel regret that you are offended. It was wrong of me to make that comment. I spoke without thinking.”

  “But you don’t actually think you misjudged me when you made the accusation in the first place.”

  He seemed about to agree with her. He had opened his mouth to say something, then suddenly frowned and closed it again. After a few moments of thoughtful silence, he finally did speak. “I do,” he said, sounding surprised at himself. “I was wrong to say what I did—it was my jealousy speaking. And I apologize for making the wrong assumptions about you as well as for causing you offense.”

  Funny how such simple words could completely dissipate her sense of grievance. In its place, she felt a swell of excitement—he actually felt he had misjudged her! Even the realist in her had difficulty denying that this seemed to be progress. When they first met, he probably would have stuck to his guns and made some insufferable comment about how women were inherently calculating and in it for all they could get.

  Now, he was actually acknowledging that she might in fact have some integrity—despite the fact that she was female.

  She smiled at him. “Apology accepted. Thank you, Gio.”

  He frowned. “I am being honest. That is all. You have nothing to thank me for.” With his olive complexion, it was difficult to tell for certain, but Calia thought she noticed a slight flush staining his cheeks.

  “I will say this though—I suspect Sorvignac’s brother-in-law won’t be involved with too much of the key decision-making or negotiations soon enough.”

  “Oh? And why would you suspect that?”

  “Sorvignac told me as much. But I also heard the two of them talking, before they knew I was within earshot. Something about the release of a report and funding from some Foundation.” She shook her head. “But regardless, Marron didn’t come over as too competent—and Sorvignac’s impatience was evident.”

  Gio looked thoughtful. “What did they say about this report?”

  Calia recounted what she had heard of the conversation.

  “Interesting… and why do you suppose they were discussing this in English?”

  “They weren’t.”

  He chuckled. “Ah yes—of course. I forgot that you are fluent in French as well. Do they know that?”

  She shook her head. “Not that I’m aware. I certainly didn’t let on that I understood what they had been talking about.”

  “Excellent. You are probably right in thinking this is something to do with Sorvignac’s other holdings. But, I will look into the question. Our next meeting is two days from now, to give us time to revise certain clauses in the agreement. We will see what comes of this.”

  In the ensuing pause, his expression shifted, becoming warmer and more immediate, as if he had decided to set aside business considerations for the moment and concentrate on her instead. He smiled as he reached for her, cupping her cheek with one hand as he drew her close to him with the other. “And now, are you ready for some sightseeing?”

  She looked up at him with a cocky grin. “What kind of sightseeing are we talking about?”

  “I had a certain itinerary in mind, but if you would like to take a detour, I have no objections.”

  “Detours can be good,” she said, as she reached down to grasp his fullness. She felt him harden further against the pressure of her hand. He groaned, his eyes drifting closed as he leaned into her. He lowered his head, his lips closing on hers, tongue slipping into her mouth, penetrating her with repeated, sensual thrusts.

  She writhed against him, her grip on him loosening as he pulled her into his thrall. They moved closer still as he urged her backwards. She followed his lead blindly, barely noting when the backs of her legs came up against stuffed leather. He lowered her onto the leather sofa she had vaguely noted earlier.

  As he loomed above, she pulled him down on top of her, writhing against his body. He let out a low growl, his mouth moving from her lips, along her throat—moist darkness with a hint of teeth in its depths.

  She gasped, arching back, her nipples exquisitely hard, pressing against him as he guided her through a world of vivid sensation.

  Then somehow, he was inside her, thrusting hard and deep—and it was only some tiny thread of restraint that kept her from crying out at the ecstatic, pulsing rightness of it all. Instead, she bit into his shoulder—only fleetingly surprised to find bare flesh, where she had expected fabric—to muffle her cries of fulfillment.

  Later, when they emerged from his office, having made hasty reparations to their rumpled clothes and tousled hair, Calia gave Daria a smile as she wondered how much the other woman had overheard of what had gone on behind the closed doors of Gio’s office. But, Daria’s friendly greeting set her mind somewhat at ease—if Gio’s secretary had any suspicions, she gave no indication of them.

  For lunch, Gio took Calia to an elegant eatery on a cobblestoned street near the Spanish Steps. Though the food was luscious, Calia found her attention riveted on Gio himself, as he gave her a lively history of the area, spiced up with colourful tales about some its famous inhabitants—personages both historical and contemporary. He proved to be a surprisingly animated and skilled storyteller. He’d have her at the edge of her seat, as he drew out the tension of an anecdote—only to dissipate it with some fascinating twist or a wry turn of phrase that would make her laugh.

  The afternoon sped by as Gio took her to the Pantheon, followed by the Forum and the Colosseum, proving himself an entertaining and knowledgeable tour guide. But though she thoroughly enjoyed his lively stories, Calia was most enchanted by his air of relaxed openness as he recounted the history of his city. Gone was the embittered misogynist. Even the ferocious businessman had vanished without a trace—this man was all dark, sensual relaxation and warm appeal.

  But despite the fact that this Gio charmed and enthralled her with his handsome ease, Calia’s emotional warning bells remained dangerously silent. After they had finished exploring the ancient avenues of the Forum to their satisfaction, they left the grounds in search of refreshment, as the day had become stiflingly hot, and the shelter in some parts of the site was minimal.

  Gio nodded at one of the many stalls set up in the open area between the Forum and the Colliseum. “I will buy something from one of these places. You can wait here, if you like.”

  Calia complied, entertaining herself by watching the antics of her fellow tourists as they posed with the various, enterprising young men who had dressed themselves up as ancient Roman legionnaires and gladiators. The young men were obliging about adding a bit of novelty to visitors’ vacation photographs—so long as they were compensated for their troubles. As she watched, a heated discussion erupted between one of the legionnaires and an American, who felt he was being overcharged.

  “Calia.” The sudden touch of icy wetness against her bare shoulder startled her and she let out a surprised exclamation. She jerked away, turning to scowl at a grinning Gio. He held out a bottle of chilled blue liquid that was labelled a sport drink. In his other hand was another, opened bottle of the same stuff. “This was the only kind they had left. It is an unlikely colour and has very little flavour. Still, it claims it will boost our electrolytes, whatever those might be.”

  It was right then, as he smiled at her, his hair touseled and his expression relaxed, that it hit her, hard. Love. Smack, dab, right in the middle of her forehead.

  It was no longer a question of liking him or of becoming dependent on his lovemaking. At some point, while she was in the middle of denying her shifting feelings for him, she had neglected to notice that she had never felt as alive as she did when she was with him.

  She blinked, reeling at the power of her realization.

  H
is smile faded into a concerned frown. “Calia? Are you all right?” He shifted the two bottles to one hand and took her arm, leading her to a bench as he continued, “You look as though you need to sit, tesoro mio. Perhaps you have had too much sun.”

  “No, no, I’m fine,” she said, shaking her head absently, as she allowed herself to be led to the bench and seated. She accepted the bottle of blue stuff with the same air of abstraction, and complied as he urged her to drink some of it. He was right—it didn’t have much flavour, but perhaps its claims to replenish electrolytes were not completely off, because it did restore her somewhat.

  She made herself smile into Gio’s frowning face, before taking another swig of the drink. “It’s all right, Gio. I think I must have just been a little dehydrated. I’m fine now.” She took a few more sips. “So, what’s next on the itinerary?”

  But he wasn’t having any of it. “Home. We will take a taxi to my office now, and then I will drive you back to the villa.”

  Calia was about to protest, but stopped herself when she realised that she really was tired. And she had some serious thinking to do. Perhaps home would be the best option after all—and that way she would be able to retreat to her own room for a time and sort through the confused mess of emotions that had tangled up her mind in the wake of her startling insight.

  She gave him a tired smile. “Maybe you’re right. Let’s go back.”

  His scowl deepened. “No arguments? Now I know you must be feeling unwell. Perhaps we should just take the taxi straight back.”

  She shook her head. “That would just be silly—I’m not an invalid. I’m fine with stopping by to pick up the car.”

  Once they were settled into the back seat of the cab, he drew her into his side and curled his arm around her. As she allowed her head to droop against his shoulder, Calia couldn’t avoid acknowledging how right and comfortable it felt to be snuggled against him like this.

  Before she knew it, she had drifted off into sleep. The next thing she knew, Gio was shaking her gently. “Calia,” he murmured against her ear. “We are home. You must wake up now.”

  She blinked groggily, trying to pull herself into proper consciousness as Gio settled up the bill with the driver. Looking around, she realised that they had taken the taxi all the way home after all.

  He guided her into the villa and up to her room. Calia was distantly aware of his gentle ministrations as he helped her take off her shoes. He started on the buttons of her dress, but she shook her head. “’Sokay. I’ll sleep in this,” she mumbled, and he nodded, before helping her lie back in bed and tucking the covers under her chin. He left her after planting a kiss on her lips.

  “Sweet dreams, tesoro mio.” The soft murmur was the last thing she heard before she drifted back into sleep.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Calia passed the night in restless, headachy sleep, finally falling into a deeper slumber somewhere in the wee hours of morning. But, when she did finally wake up, she felt far better for the rest. A glance at her watch revealed it was well past nine o’clock.

  As she sat up in bed and pushed the hair out of her face, her eye was caught by the sundress she was still wearing from yesterday. That was when the rest of what had happened the day before hit her.

  In love. With Gio.

  She blinked, shaking her head. Not possible. It must just have been too much sun. Dehydration and some form of heat exhaustion must have addled her wits, so that the sight of him approaching with something cold to drink had pushed her over the edge into delusion.

  She couldn’t be in love with someone like Gio—no matter how blindingly sexy he was. She simply wasn’t that foolish.

  Having resolved that issue to her satisfaction, she propelled herself out of bed and headed for the shower. The hot water cleared away the last of the cobwebs and Calia lingered under the pounding jets for several moments.

  As she toweled herself off, she reflected that, regardless of her feelings—or rather, her definitive lack of feelings—for Gio, she was still glad he’d be at work by now. It would just be too weird looking at him and knowing that for a few hours yesterday, she had somehow been deluded into thinking herself in love with him.

  So it really is a good thing I won’t have to face him till this evening, she concluded. She had wrapped a towel around her chest and was using another to rub at her hair as she let herself into the hallway.

  “Now what have we got here?”

  She let out a shriek, dropping the towel she had been using on her hair as she self-consciously clutched at the one covering her body. Gio watched her antics with an ever-widening grin. He wore a casual shirt and slacks, looking comfortably cool—and sexily hot.

  “Sound effects too. I am impressed.”

  She felt something inside her go all moist and gooey at the warm amusement in his smile. Dammit. This was definitely more than lust, she realized with a sinking feeling. Next thing she knew, she’d be simpering and stuttering like a fool.

  “Wh-what’re you doing here? I thought you’d be at work by now.” Right on cue. Sometimes, she really hated being right.

  “The next meeting with Sorvignac is not till tomorrow. I have been dealing with all other essentials from my office, with my remote connection here at the villa. I wanted to see how you were this morning. You are certainly looking better, notwithstanding the histrionics.”

  She suddenly felt painfully awkward. She couldn’t look at him, but somehow her eyes were having difficulty finding another place to settle

  “I-I should go and get dressed,” she muttered. Had some alien taken possession of her body? She’d always been able to cover up her nervousness with bravado—so what was with all the muttering and feeling like she suddenly had too many limbs?

  Just goes to prove what I always thought—falling in love really is like getting a lobotomy.

  “Would you like some help? Though I am usually indifferent to gifts, I would take great pleasure in unwrapping you from that towel.”

  Calia swallowed, hard. She wasn’t ready to make love to him. Not yet. “Um—maybe later, Gio,” she said, edging away from him, towards her room while still avoiding his gaze.

  Just as she reached for the door handle, she permitted herself a glance at him. He was frowning as he watched her, but he didn’t protest her hasty retreat.

  “So I’ll see you in a little while, then. I just have to get dressed and then I’m going to scare up some breakfast.” As she spoke, she pushed the door open. Then, she slipped inside and closed it behind her, leaning against it with a slow exhalation.

  She dressed with unsteady fingers, her mind still reeling from the magnitude of what she had somehow allowed to happen. When had she let her guard down—and how had she been stupid enough to allow such feelings to slip past her defenses? She didn’t know. All she could do now was try for some damage control.

  So, after pulling on a pair of shorts and a tank top—couldn’t let him think she was dressing for him, now could she?—she straightened her shoulders and took a few deep breaths. Be steady. She told herself. Calm. Flippant, even.

  They were passion partners—and nothing more. Because no matter how much he objected to the phrase, he clearly had no problem with the meaning behind the label.

  Love simply wasn’t in the contract.

  * * *

  She was deflated to discover he was nowhere to be found when she went in search of breakfast. It was only as she poured herself a second cup of coffee that he appeared in the doorway of the dining room, his expression neutral. For a few moments, they eyed each other like a pair of diplomats about to enter tricky negotiations.

  Then, as he came into the room and sat adjacent to her at the table, Calia returned her attention to her fruit salad with studied nonchalance.

  He broke the silence. “So, would you like to tell me what that was about?”

  She made herself finish chewing the bite of honeydew she had taken. Then, she swallowed, as she pretended to think about it.
/>   Finally, she spoke, “Would you care to elaborate on the question?” Evasion. She nodded to herself. Always a good tactic.

  The loud slap of his palm against the table made her jump in her seat. “I dislike moody women,” he growled.

  She stared at him with wide eyes. “Sheesh, you’re one to talk! Maybe you should try hitting the table harder next time. I didn’t quite hear the wood crack.”

  “Sarcasm is also a very unattractive trait.”

  “I’ll be sure to remind you about that the next time you’re ripping my clothes off.” This was good. So long as she didn’t look at him too often, she could manage to sound more or less like her usual self. Very good.

  “Besides,” she continued, “liking wasn’t part of the contract—unless you somehow slipped it by me in the small print or something.”

  He watched her with narrowed eyes. “What game are you playing at? You have been projecting a strange… attitude. Since yesterday. I thought it was the sun, but now I begin to wonder. I do not like it.”

  She sighed, setting down her bowl and fork. “Are you always this paranoid?” She frowned at him. They said it was sometimes best to hide the truth in plain sight. Time to test the hypothesis. “So what are you thinking? That I’ve suddenly fallen madly in love with you? Maybe that I’ve decided to trap you with my amorous machintions?”

  He snorted. “Not likely. No. I think you are having second thoughts about this. Perhaps you are one of those people who try to antagonize the other person into ending things so that they do not have to do the dirty work.”

  “Do I strike you as the passive aggressive type, Gio? Someone who has trouble with directness?”

  He scowled at her. “You have a point. So then? Have I given you reason for uneasiness?”

  She shook her head. “No, no. Not at all. And I’m not playing any games. I just… got weirded out earlier, that’s all. I don’t usually let people see me running at less than full capacity,” she admitted uneasily, only realizing it was true as she said it. She had always been careful to conceal her vulnerabilities. But yesterday, she had actually gone so far as to snuggle up against him and fall asleep on his shoulder, she realized, her cheeks burning up at the memory. Funny that it hadn’t even occurred to her until now.