The Tuscan's Revenge Wedding (Italian Billionaires #1)(14)
The Italian made no answer but sat staring out the side window. For all she could tell, he might not have heard her.
The driver did, and apparently understood English, for he glanced up into the rearview mirror. He looked back toward the street ahead of them, then into the mirror again as if awaiting an order. When it did not come, he cleared his throat. “Signor, signorina, a suggestion?”
Nicholas replied then in a brief spate of hard-edged Italian. Reaching for a small knob on the arm beside him, he held it while a screen of smoked glass closed off their back section from the driver. He returned his gaze to the street scenes beyond the windows.
She really did need to learn the language, Amanda told herself in irritation. As it was, she had no idea if Nicholas had reprimanded his driver for speaking out of turn or given directions to a hotel already selected for her.
She should question it, she knew, but could not find the energy. It seemed just as well to wait and see.
It wasn’t that she was intimidated by the man, certainly not. It was simply that he was a stranger and she was shut into a confined space with him at the moment. Given the state of his temper, it seemed best not to provoke another argument, even if she had the heart for it.
She glanced at him, wondering a little at his silence. His appeared remote, completely unfamiliar in the dim light that was now pink-tinged with the beginnings of sunrise. She was aware again, as she had been off and on in the past hours, of his diabolical attraction. The flutter it caused in the pit of her stomach was beyond exasperating, as was the near compulsion she felt to stare at him.
He sat in somber contemplation, as if turning over some knotty problem in his mind. And so he might be, considering the serious weight of his responsibilities. His hair looked as if he had run his fingers through it in either frustration or anger, and his eyes were shadowed from weariness. How long had it been since he had slept, she wondered. Forty-eight hours? Longer?
He must have sped to the hospital at once from wherever he had been when news of the car crash came to him. Surely he had waited there many hours, until he knew his sister’s condition was stable. He had flown to the States, then spent time searching for her before flying back again. He had not slept on the plane for even the short time she had. He must be exhausted, and yet he made nothing of it.
He was a formidable man but not indestructible, she thought with an odd constriction around her heart. No one was, least of all those who cared about others.
Nicholas was watching over his sister with endless concern and a brother’s protective love. What would he not show toward a lover? What would it be like to become the center of such fierce devotion, especially with passion added to the mix?
Bone-deep yearning spiraled through her, warming her blood so its heat pooled in her pelvis. He had supported her there in the hospital hallway. She could still feel the places on her arms where his thumbs had smoothed in absentminded yet sensual caress. His full attention would be an erotic onslaught of stunning proportions she was sure, a conflagration of feeling.
Not that she was likely to find out. No, nor wanted to if it came to that. It was perfectly possible to have a fleeting fantasy about a man without acting upon it. Just because she felt as hot and liquid inside as melted chocolate didn’t mean she was ready to fall into his arms.
They were virtual strangers. And so they would remain, given all that stood between them.
Her thoughts were so far removed from her surroundings that it was a minute or two before she noticed that the wider city thoroughfares had faded away behind them. The big car was gliding along less crowded streets past gas stations, garages, garden shops stocked with stone columns and life-size statuary, and villas revealed only by gates inset in tangles of greenery.
“Where are we?” She swung from her side window to stare at the man beside her. “Where are we going? I thought you were taking me to a hotel.”
The look he gave her was implacable. “That would not be at all practical. You have no transport for hospital visits or the shopping you require. Besides, I brought you here. It’s my responsibility to see that you have a place to stay where you can be both comfortable and safe.”
“Safe.”
“You have forgotten the paparazzi already?”
“They won’t be around forever.”
“They will have discovered the connection between us by now, just as they discovered news of the accident. It’s unlikely they will rest until they know why you and I arrived together.”
“So I’ll tell them exactly how it came about.”
His smile had an ironic twist. “But will they print that when they can make up a better story, one that will sell more photographs and papers.”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“No? Try this: The De Frenzas and Their American Lovers — Brothers and Sisters in Quadrangle of Passion!”
“That’s obscene!” The heat of a flush scalded her face, though as much for the derision in his voice as the headline he suggested.
“It’s only one step more as your brother has already been labeled my sister’s lover. Of course, they might go for bigger fish with something like De Frenza Rushes to Sister’s Bedside with Lovely American Clamped to His Side!”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Not at all. For proof they need only print the photo with my arm around you as we entered the hospital.”