Page 30 of Back to Claim His Italian Heir
All those painful experiences had taught her a hard yet necessary lesson, and she knew now that she most definitely wasn’t ever going to open herself up to that kind of pain again. Since Nico didn’t seem to want to either, she hoped they really could make this work. Or so she kept telling herself.
‘This plane is amazing,’ she remarked, running her hand over the buttery leather of a built-in sofa on one side of the main cabin, facing another sofa, a low coffee table between them, with a bowl of exotic-looking fruit its centrepiece.
‘I’ll give you the full tour before we take off.’ He smiled at her, and she tried to ignore the fizzing sensation in her stomach the mere curve of his lips caused.Thatwas an aspect of their marriage she was both looking forward to and feeling extremely apprehensive about, because she knew when Nico touched her she forgot everything, especially how to guard her heart, and she needed to stay careful. Controlled. As soon as he touched her, all her resolutions could be blown to smithereens, and where would that leave her?
Nowhere she wanted to be.
‘Sure,’ she told him, smiling back, trying to ignore that fizzing, the way his jade gaze lingered on her, making her body heat, her blood surge, and her mind remember how it had been between them before. ‘That would be great.’
‘Come on, then.’ He kept one hand on the small of her back—his palm searing her through the thin material of her T-shirt—as he guided her to the back of the plane. ‘This is the study,’ he said, opening a door to a room with a large desk and a couple of leather club chairs, a wall lined with bookshelves.
‘I feel like I’m on Air Force One,’ she told him, not altogether joking. The private plane was really like nothing she’d ever seen before, nothing she could even imagine. She’d had a month of living in Nico’s luxurious world, but it had never felt as real and permanent as it did now, on their way to his private island. A whole island, to himself. Even after the luxury hotels and flats from before, this was definitely next level.
‘It’s convenient for work,’ he replied with a shrug.
‘Do you know, I don’t even know what you really do for Santini Enterprises.’ She turned from her perusal of the shelves, mostly books on economics and business, with a few classics of literature thrown in. ‘You said your father said you were the face of the operation, but what does that mean, exactly?’
Nico propped one powerful shoulder against the doorframe as he folded his arms. ‘I handle all the deals, basically,’ he told her. ‘Santini Enterprises has a lot of different interests—resorts, like the one in the Maldives I was going to see, as well as hotels, tech companies, a few other things. My father loves to acquire businesses, sell the ones he doesn’t need, and buy more. I manage the negotiations.’
‘Do you enjoy it?’
He looked startled, as if the question had never occurred to him. ‘I don’t know if I do or not,’ he replied slowly. ‘I like closing a deal, I suppose, but I never really thought about doing anything else. Working for Santini Enterprises was always going to be in my future. I was never given the choice to consider any other options.’ He grimaced slightly. ‘Even though my father resented the fact that he suspected I wasn’t his son, he still wanted me to take over the family business. Sometimes I’ve wondered why, if it was just a point of pride.’
‘Pride can be a very powerful thing.’ After all, Nico was a proud man. Had it been pride that had taken him all the way to California in search of her, or something more? Emma wasn’t sure, and she wasn’t brave enough to ask. ‘And if you had been,’ she asked instead, ‘what would you do? Your dream job. What would that be?’
He let out a little laugh, the sound one of uncertainty that made Emma’s heart both ache and melt in a way she wasn’t entirely comfortable with but couldn’t keep herself from. As wealthy and privileged as he’d been his whole life, she realised, Nico’s experiences oddly mirrored her own. A lack of choice. A fear, even an inability, perhaps, to let yourself dream. She hadn’t expected such a point of similarity.
‘I suppose,’ he answered slowly, his arms folded as he leaned his head back against the door, ‘I’d like to do something similar, but on my own, and for smaller companies that don’t usually get a look-in. A venture capitalist, of a sort, but for grass-roots operations, home-grown businesses who need the opportunity.’
She smiled, envisaging the kind of businesses he meant—companies that started in someone’s garage, a stay-at-home mum turning her kitchen into a bakery, a high-school geek making his tech ideas into millions. ‘I like the sound of that.’
‘Do you?’
He lifted his head so his jade-green gaze blazed into hers, both searching and finding, and her breath caught in her chest as her heart started to race. A moment of friendly solidarity morphed, in an instant, into something else. Something more.
‘I like the idea of looking after the little guys,’ she replied a bit unsteadily, ‘since I’ve always been one.’
‘Is that how you’ve felt? Like a little guy?’
She shrugged. ‘If a little guy is someone who never has the power or opportunity or choice? Yes. Pretty much. But I haven’t always been great about making opportunities for myself. That can be scary, on your own, which is why I think it would be great if you helped people like that along. Partnered with them.’ She hadn’t meant to reveal quite so much, and so she continued, a bit hurriedly, ‘I think you’d be good at that, too, actually. Giving people the courage as well as the opportunity to raise the bar...’ She trailed off because her mind was hopelessly buzzing and he was looking at her with such heat, such blatant need. When had anyone, anyone other than Nico, looked at her like that? Made her feel like this—important and, most of all, wanted? Very wanted.
‘Emma...’ He took a step towards her and she held her breath, waiting for his touch. Craving it, because she knew how it made her feel. How his hand skimming along her skin could create sparks, a raging fire. And how that fire could consume her, burn away all her good intentions to guard her heart...
But she couldn’t think about any of that now. She could only think about him, coming closer, about to touch her, consume her. They hadn’t touched since that sleepy fumble in bed that had awakened her body, made her remember all too well how he felt. How he made her feel—and wanted to feel again.
Last night, exhausted by everything, she’d gone to bed early while Nico had stayed up making preparations for their trip, and Emma had wondered when—not if, not any more—they would come together again. They would make this marriage real for a second time, even better than before.
He took another step towards her, reaching for her hand, lacing his fingers through hers as he tugged her gently towards him. ‘I’m glad you’re here,’ he said softly, and she gave a little, unsteady laugh.
‘So am I.’ Although she was still afraid. Afraid of falling for this man who was doing everything right—something she knew not to trust.
‘We can make this work,’ Nico murmured as he drew her ever closer, so her hips bumped his and heat flared deep inside, along with an almost unbearable yearning. ‘Can’t we?’
‘I’d...like to think so.’ Although she was having trouble thinking right now, with Nico’s body so close to hers, the scent of his cologne—of him—in her nostrils, making her dizzy. His fingers skimmed her cheek, tucking a tendril of hair behind her ear, and leaving a fiery trail of longing in its wake. Emma’s lips parted soundlessly. Nico dipped his head. Her heart tripped, caught, tripped again. He was going to kiss her...
‘Signor Santini?’ The flight attendant’s discreet cough had Nico dropping his hand and Emma springing away, her heart now juddering. ‘We’re ready to take off.’
‘Thank you, Enrico.’ Nico’s voice was calm although Emma saw the spots of colour high on his cheekbones. He had been as affected as she was by their almost-kiss, and the realisation was wonderfully thrilling. She, who had never had anyone care about her enough to be affected by anything she did, could make this man’s breathing ragged and his face heat with desire.