Her Roman Holiday

by Jamie Anderson

  Her mortification deepened as she recalled that wasn’t even the first time he had seen her brought low—until now, she had managed to conveniently blank out the fact that she had also bawled into his shoulder when they had first met, after that sleazeball had attacked her.

  She couldn’t recall ever having shown Dave that side of herself.

  His expression relaxed. “You have nothing to be ashamed of, Calia.”

  “Don’t patronize me.” She knew she was being unfair, but the recollection of her weakness still burned.

  “Do you make a conscious practice of being prickly, or is it more of an involuntary defensive tactic?”

  “You don’t expect me to answer that, do you?”

  He watched her, his expression weary. “Why are our truces always so short-lived? Must you deflect all attempts at personal connection between us?”

  “Hey, I agreed to become your lover. That’s pretty personal.”

  He shook his head, rising from his seat. “I give up. I will be in my office. Come find me when you feel ready to continue our—what was it you called it? Passion play?”

  She let out an involuntary laugh at the choice of words. He turned to leave.

  Just as he passed the doorway, he paused and glanced at her over his shoulder. “Oh, and by the way, the credit company called. They will be sending someone around with your replacement card sometime this morning. They said that the thief made no attempt to use your card. He must have just taken the cash and trashed the rest.”

  After he had left, Calia let out a slow whoosh of breath. So, the question was—cut her losses now, or give her all to what they did have, and face the emotional consequences later?

  She frowned, unsure of how to handle this particular quandary. It was unprecedented in her personal history. For that matter, her entire relationship with Gio was like that: one unprecedented situation after another. If not for the unusual circumstances surrounding their meeting, and the fact that she had been penniless and stranded, she probably would have walked away from someone like Gio long before they developed a rapport. So then, they would never have entered into a relationship that was meant to be purely physical—her first, which was probably why she had made such a mess of it and gotten her emotions involved.

  He, on the other hand, seemed to make a habit of not getting too involved with the women he took as lovers—so he didn’t have to worry about these sorts of entanglements.

  Just the thought of joining the faceless, half-remembered masses of women whom Gio had taken as mistresses sent a stab of bitter, hopeless anger through her. She didn’t want to be just one of those many, forgettable females who had caught his fancy for a fleeting moment or two.

  But then again, what choice did she have? Men like Gio looked to settle with quiet, compliant women who would blend into the background when they were not required to fill some specific demand. She wasn’t willing to become that person—not even for love.

  Far better to walk away than compromise her very self.

  So, that was that—or was it? She shifted in her seat, as another, far more intriguing thought captured her imagination.

  She had a little over a week left before her flight home and the end of her association with Gio. A lot could happen in a week—look at how much had happened in the last two days. She had managed to get attacked and rescued. She had entered into a physical relationship with an incredibly sexy man and, most unbelievable of all, had fallen in love.

  Wouldn’t walking away now be the coward’s way out? How could she even contemplate meekly submitting to the circumstances without making even the slightest effort to change them? She’d never do something like that if her career were at stake—she had always been determined and clear-sighted where business was concerned. A risk-taker. So why was she considering settling for less in her personal life?

  She had seven days to try to win Gio’s respect—and make him care for her. If she made that kind of progress, she’d be happy. From there, they could work out what would follow and where the relationship would go.

  And if she didn’t succeed, then she could walk away, knowing she had done her best. After all, the damage had already been done; she had fallen in love. She had nothing to lose, would be no less devastated if she had to leave him now, with her love unrequited and her prospects for seeing him again just this side of nil.

  Seven days.

  She stood, a smile creeping across her face as she headed for Gio’s office. He had told her she could find him there when she was ready.

  So now, she was ready. And she had absolutely no time to waste.

  * * *

  He looked up from his computer as she knocked on his office door, which stood ajar. His expression was neutral.

  She gave him a Mona Lisa smile, reveling in his breathtaking good looks, his frowning sexual magnetism.

  She had loitered on her walk through the corridors of the villa, wondering what she could do to distinguish herself from his other lovers. She didn’t want to pander to his medieval views about women and their roles—she wasn’t about to create a precedent with him that she had no intention of sustaining, if ever she did manage to gain a foothold in his affections.

  She finally decided that she would simply show him the best she had to offer—and if that didn’t interest him, so be it. There was a difference between agreeing to some give and take in a relationship and selling your soul. The one, she was willing to undertake, with the right person, under the right circumstances. The other, not.

  She met his gaze head on, and they squared off like two opponents in a tourney.

  “I’m ready for you, Gio.”

  His frown darkened. “What is this?”

  She had thrown him off balance. Not necessarily a bad thing. She allowed her smirk to widen into a grin. “You told me to come find you when I was ready to continue our passion play. So.” She shrugged. “Here I am. Pawn to king four.”

  His expression shifted, his eyes darkening to the colour of pewter as he sat back, watching her. “The classic opening. I see.”

  “You play chess?”

  He inclined his head. “Of course.”

  “Your move.”

  He stood and came over to stand a small distance from her, his eyes intent on her face. “Knight to king’s bishop three.”

  Without breaking his gaze, she moved closer, till mere inches separated them. “Pawn to queen three.”

  His eyes darkened further, and he raised his hand to cup her cheek. “Pawn to queen four.”

  She was distracted by roughness of his fingers against her skin, the warmth of his breath against her face. “Pawn takes pawn.”

  He smiled his predator’s smile. “Knight takes pawn,” he said, leaning into her. “Leaving things wide open for me.”

  He swooped down with a kiss that drove all thoughts of chess from her mind. By the time he pulled away, she could barely remember her own name, leave alone the progress of the game.

  “Your move,” he taunted, his voice a sensual murmur against her lips. But as she leaned towards him, wanting to bridge the gap and return to the bliss of his hot, plunging kiss, he pulled back slightly. “Calia?” he prompted.

  She groaned with frustration. “Look Gio, you can beat me at chess later, all right? I know when I’m outplayed.”

  “So long as you know it.” The satisfaction in his tone would have set her teeth on edge, had she not been intent on other goals.

  She began unbuttoning his shirt. “You really want your pound of flesh, don’t you?”

  “It seems to me it is actually you who wants my flesh, though perhaps a pound is underestimating things somewhat?”

  “Did anyone ever tell you you’re a smug bastard when you get your way?” She had finished unbuttoning his shirt, and now she pushed it back from his shoulders, taking the opportunity to run her hands over the sculpted muscles of his arms. She reveled in firm hardness of his bared skin against her own.

  “Often, but never quite so c
harmingly.”

  Further words dried up in her mouth as her heated gaze lingered over the hard breadth of his chest. She closed the final gap between them, pressing against him, rubbing sinuously against the grinding hardness of his erection until she heard him groan in response.

  His fingers closed over her shoulders as the balance of power shifted. She was soon lost inside a writhing, mounting excitement that culminated in a molten, pulsing explosion of release.

  As she spiraled back into herself, she found she was perched on his desk, her legs wrapped around his waist, her body slumped against his. He leaned into her, his dark head resting on her shoulder as their heavy breaths paced each other, slowly returning to normal.

  She allowed herself to rest against him for several more moments, squeezing her eyes tightly shut. If she couldn’t make him care… how was she ever going to be able to give this up? Where would she find the strength to walk away from this man, her head held high and her emotions quietly hidden away?

  She drew in a deep, steadying breath before answering her own question. From the same place where she found the strength to pull away from him now, despite the aching absence she felt, both inside and out, as she unwrapped herself from him, slid back and away. As she slipped off the desk, straightening her clothing and her hair.

  Summoning a saucy grin, she turned back to him and tilted her head. “You look all for it, Gio.” Then, she widened her eyes with elaborate innocence. “Oh, gee, I hope you’re not too tired to work, after all that.”

  He turned towards her, a sardonic smile tilting his lips as his gaze raked over her. “You need not worry about me, Calia. I am a man of boundless energy. But, I would suggest you take this opportunity to rest up for later. This has certainly whetted my appetite—and I can assure you I will be ravenous by the time I finish work for the day. I expect you to be rested and ready for a very long, very enjoyable night.”

  “Bragging again?”

  He tilted his head, his eyes narrowed into slits of steel. “You tell me.”

  She held his gaze for several moments, but something in the heavy intensity of his stare unnerved her, and she broke the contact. “I would call your bluff, but I don’t want to undermine your sense of your own masculinity.”

  He flashed her a grin. “My masculinity is not so fragile as all that. I think the only reason you do not call my bluff is because you know as well as I that it is not a bluff.” He took a step towards her. “Would you like me to prove it?”

  Despite her resolution to show him her best, she moved away. She still felt shaken by this last encounter, and the feeling of hollow absence that had followed it. But, to him, she shrugged with every appearance of calm. “Tonight will be sufficient.”

  He approached her, his expression implacable. “You do not sound convinced, Calia. I would not want you doubting me.”

  She stepped backward for every step forward he took. “I? Doubt you? Never think it.” As she spoke, she felt the wall behind her, cutting off any further retreat.

  “Ah, but you do,” he said. “Though, not for long, I can promise.”

  He reached for her, pulling her close against him, his fingers weaving into her hair as their lips met in a hard kiss.

  And, in spite of everything—her recent climax, her physical exhaustion, her emotional confusion—she felt herself beginning to stir at his touch. She knew that if she didn’t pull away soon, she would be lost in the complex, physical pleasures of his lovemaking once again.

  Summoning all of her rapidly dwindling willpower, she tore her lips from his and pushed herself out of his arms. “All right, Gio. You win. I believe you,” she said, her voice breathless.

  He watched her, his expression caught between amusement and frustration. After a few moments, the amusement won out and his lips tilted. “Such a pity. I think we both would have enjoyed the proof, tesoro mio. Are you certain you haven’t got any lingering doubts for me to vanquish?”

  Calia couldn’t help but chuckle at the exaggerated hope in his expression. “Now that you’ve more than amply demonstrated your prowess as a lover, shouldn’t you be lavishing the same care on your reputation as a workaholic? Wouldn’t want your legions of employees and scores of companies to feel neglected.”

  He threw a rueful glance at his desk, before nodding. “You are right, of course. Much though I would love to take you to bed right now and keep you there with me all day, I have much to do before my meetings with Sorvignac resume tomorrow. But be ready for me tonight, mia bella.”

  She was ready for him right now, but she wasn’t about to say so. Not while she had so much to sort through. She had negotiated a reprieve and she intended to make full use of it.

  “Well then, I’ll leave you for now.” Her tone sounded a little too hearty to her own ears, but he had already turned away and was settling himself behind his desk once more, so perhaps he hadn’t noticed. Certainly, his expression had grown preoccupied, as if, now that he had switched tracks, she had suddenly ceased to exist insofar as he was concerned.

  She quietly let herself out of the room, discouraged. Seeing herself so thoroughly and easily dismissed from his mind was profoundly deflating. So much for her rosy visions of winning his respect and making him care. What kind of delusion had that been?

  It wasn’t just in chess that Gio was well out of her league. She didn’t stand a chance with someone like him. He had all his barriers in place, and wasn’t about to lower them for the likes of her.

  As she headed back to her room, lost in the funk of her situation, she heard the doorbell ring.

  “Calia! Where are you, la piccola?” Larissa, from the direction of the front door. “The man, he is here with your card!”

  Calia obediently followed the sound of the other woman’s voice and signed for her credit card. After the courier had left and Larissa had bustled off, Calia stared down at the sealed envelope in her hand.

  She was independent once more.

  So.

  She resumed her walk to her room, slapping the envelope against her thigh as she frowned in thought.

  What to do? Perhaps it would be best to leave now—say her thanks to Gio, Larissa and Cosimo, then head out to a hostel for the duration of her stay. Except that her body was primed for the long night of pleasure Gio had promised her. Leaving now would deprive them both.

  And, far worse was the deep, empty ache around her heart at the thought of never seeing Gio again—the thought of leaving him even a moment before their allotted time was up.

  Besides, she had never walked away from a challenge in her life. The realization gave her the strength to push aside her doubts. She might not succeed, true. But planning for failure from the outset would not aid her cause.

  Until it became clear which way the cards would fall, she wasn’t going to allow any kind of second thoughts to cloud her vision.

  Still, she decided, her steps slowing, it might be worthwhile modifying her goals somewhat. She wanted him to care, true—and in an ideal world that was what would happen. But, after seeing him turn himself off like he had just now, she knew that seven days might not be enough. So, she would settle for his lust.

  If she could hold his interest, that might be enough. If he continued to desire her, he would probably be willing to go to some lengths to keep seeing her, even after her vacation was over. She planned to continue with her efforts to get work in Europe—and if she succeeded in that, then their affair could be prolonged indefinitely, so long as she continued to intrigue him.

  So now, she just had to figure out a way to let him know she had changed her mind about a long distance affair—ideally, without betraying her true feelings, since she was certain that any mention of love would have her out the door and on her way before she could say “arrivederci”.

  But, first things first. She hadn’t heard from the firm in Frankfurt—perhaps they had made their decision by now, perhaps not. She had, however, sent out other resumés in the interim. Now seemed like a good time to f
ollow up on the status of her job situation.

  Decision made, Calia resumed her walk to her bedroom with brisk steps.

  * * *

  A quick check of her phone messages revealed that the firm in Frankfurt had indeed called—that very morning. Maybe even while she and Gio had been making frantic love on his mahogany desk.

  She had apparently impressed them, because she now had a job offer. The message went on to say that they would iron out the details of starting date and so on over the phone, but in the meanwhile, a contract would be emailed to her, which she would need to sign and fax back to them as soon as possible.

  Calia should have been over the moon. Instead, the prospect of taking the job only made her time with Gio seem all the more finite.

  Shoving such thoughts aside, Calia determinedly congratulated herself on the job and went off in search of Larissa. She wanted to check her email and read over the promised contract. According to her guidebook, there were tons of internet cafés in Rome—if Cosimo wasn’t available to give her a ride to the subway, then Calia would need directions to the nearest bus stop.

  Larissa and Cosimo, it turned out, had inherited the slightly outdated desktop computer Gio used to have set up in villa’s office room. They were on the same high-speed connection Gio used and had no problem with Calia making use of it to check her email.

  It was a far newer model than the old clunker Calia owned back home, and it booted up with lightning speed.

  She read through the contract—which was far more generous than Calia expected, including a relocation allowance, in addition to the ample salary offered. Then she glanced through her other, older emails. Two of the other companies where she had sent her resumé had responded earlier in the week, with expressions of interest.