An Invitation to Sin(24)
Taylor stopped chewing. ‘Pardon?’
‘Milza means “spleen.”’
At the point of swallowing, she choked. ‘I’m eating a spleen burger? You fed me spleen burger?’
‘Your translation is less than elegant but yes, the meat is spleen. Pane con la milza is a delicacy, particularly around Palermo. My grandmother used to make it in her kitchen when I was a little boy.’
She dropped the rest of the ‘burger’ in the bag and put it on the floor of his car. ‘Pull over. Now.’
‘Why?’
‘I’m going to throw up.’
‘Throw up in my Ferrari and this engagement is off. Nothing is worth that. Cristo, Taylor, stop behaving like a wimpy female.’ He flung her an impatient look before fixing his eyes on the road again. ‘What is that phrase you use? Put your big-girl pants on. But not literally—I prefer you in something more revealing. A thong works for me. Does that phrase exist? Put your sexy-girl thong on? Whatever—show some guts.’
‘Thanks to you I just ate guts.’
‘And even as we speak the nutrition will be flowing into your starved veins. Your starved body should be thanking me.’
‘You have a problem with my body? That’s odd because it certainly didn’t seem that way when you were ripping my clothes off a few days ago.’ She had the satisfaction of seeing his hands tighten on the wheel.
‘I didn’t see enough of it to judge.’
The atmosphere in the car had shifted dangerously and she wished she’d kept the conversation on the topic of food. Wiping her fingers on a napkin, she shuddered. ‘Do not ever mention this particular meal again. I do not want to even think about the fact I just ate a—never mind.’
‘I never would have thought you were squeamish. Meat is meat.’
‘I don’t often eat meat and when I do I like to know what I’m eating before I eat it. Now I understand why all your relationships have been short. I don’t think I can even pretend to love you enough to marry you. You drive me crazy.’
‘Anyone choosing to get married has to be crazy, so I don’t see that as a problem.’ He slowed the car, waiting as a pair of electric gates opened slowly, and then accelerated along a drive bordered by tall cypress trees.
‘Where are we?’ She threw a glance at his profile, wondering why he was so firmly against marriage. She decided it was probably because he lived his life surrounded by gorgeous women.
‘We’re somewhere exclusive where we can be assured of privacy.’ The tyres crunched over gravel as he pulled up outside a beautiful building built from honey-coloured stone.
A woman appeared from nowhere. ‘Luca!’ She burst into a stream of fluent Italian and Luca replied in the same language. Taylor glanced around her, trying to ignore the fact that hearing him speak in that beautiful, lilting language made her tummy tighten.
Impatient with herself, she reminded herself that any time her self-control weakened around him she just needed to think of him feeding her a spleen burger. Most of all she needed to remember that there was nothing romantic about this situation.
Which suited her just fine.
Never again was she trusting a man. Or any other person for that matter. She was using Luca Corretti, just as he was using her.
Having reminded herself of that, it was doubly unsettling when the woman walked across to her and took her hands, her eyes filling.
Taylor suppressed her natural impulse to back away. ‘Er, bueno, er…’ She glanced hopelessly at Luca, who rolled his eyes.
‘That’s Spanish. What are you trying to say?’
Taylor felt her face turn scarlet with embarrassment. ‘I’m trying to be friendly and say hello.’
‘If it’s after midday you can just say buona sera. This is Geovana. She speaks some English, although she might not be familiar with “spleen burger.”’
‘You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that.’ Geovana’s hands tightened on hers. ‘Welcome.’
Touched by the warmth shown to her, Taylor looked at Luca. ‘How do I say “I’m pleased to be here” in Italian?’
‘I amarlo così tanto la sua folle.’
She repeated it slowly and was stunned when Geovana flung her arms round her and hugged her tightly. Unused to being hugged, Taylor held herself rigid. ‘Oh! This is…nice and…welcoming.’ Most of all it was unfamiliar. She frowned slightly, feeling something inside her unravel. Geovana was warm and plump and…motherly. Taylor swallowed. Her own mother had seen her as a meal ticket, as a means to live out her own dreams, not as a daughter to be hugged. Their conversations had only ever been about how Taylor could do more, be more, never about who she was or what she wanted, and it had never, ever been about affection. They’d parted ways when Taylor was seventeen and hadn’t spoken since.