‘I’d prefer to work in the kitchen …’ Her voice was a croak, her protest pathetically weak compared to the one she had intended, but Luca wasn’t listening anyway.
‘You work where I tell you to. Nine o’clock tomorrow.’ His thickly accented voice clipped his order and Meg stiffened. ‘You come and see me then, tell the security staff who you are when you arrive and they will show you where to go—oh, and wear something nice.’
‘Lucky you.’ Antoinette beamed as Luca stalked out of the kitchen followed by his entourage, but normal services were definitely not resumed, every member of the kitchen crew staring at her, awaiting her reaction as Antoinette excitedly chatted on. ‘Tomorrow you will be working on the casino floor—’
‘I don’t want to,’ Meg broke in. ‘I’ve already told him that!’ But Antoinette firmly shook her head, her voice more insistent now.
‘You will do as Luca says. You have to go and see him—he has ordered you.’
‘He can order away,’ Meg said grimly, peeling off her drenched apron as Antoinette did the same, the long, exhausting shift over, and even as they took their work cards to the management and were paid for their time, somehow Meg knew that tonight had been her first and final foray as a kitchen hand at the Niroli casino, that when she didn’t turn up tomorrow for promotion, her services would no longer be required.
But it wasn’t a lack of work that was troubling Meg.
It was the effect that look had had on her—the fact that, despite her brave words, despite his appalling rudeness, she was actually thinking of going to see him again tomorrow.
Meg practically ran back to her hotel room, ran as if the devil himself were chasing her, but she couldn’t outrun her feelings, shocking emotions beating her to her door.
With one look, one brief exchange, it was as if he’d somehow reached inside and flicked a switch, aroused feelings that were so deeply buried Meg was barely aware of their existence—till now. It was as if he’d undressed her right there in the kitchen with his black, knowing eyes, as if in the two seconds he’d graced her with, somehow he had peeled away every layer of clothing, leaving her vulnerable and exposed. And if ever it were possible to make love to someone and never even touch them, then that was surely what had just happened.
Tomorrow morning she’d pack her things and head to Mont Avellana, look for work in the vineyards or orange groves. She was tired of Jasmine anyway; it wasn’t running away, Meg countered her own question as her shaking hand put the key in the lock.
It was about staying in control.
CHAPTER THREE
‘COME ON, Meg—loosen up and live a little!’
Since Meg had arrived back from her shift Jasmine had been attempting to persuade her to dress up and venture out to explore the night life on their doorstep, but it was positively the last thing Meg felt like doing. They’d been travelling since the early morning, she’d worked in the hot kitchen and that was all on top of the disappointment of missing Alex. Stepping out of the shower and falling into bed were the only things on her mind; except it was their last night together and loosen up and live a little had been the exact reasons for this trip. Though she might be travelling lightly, Meg’s emotional baggage was weighty and few would ever know the supreme effort it took for Meg to give a casual shrug of her shoulders and finally nod in agreement. ‘Just for a couple of hours,’ Meg warned, peeling open her backpack and peering inside.
‘Well, hurry up and don’t take for ever deciding what to wear!’
Which was a joke only backpackers could understand! In an attempt to travel lightly, Meg had packed only one outfit suitable for a glamorous night out—which on the positive side removed the usual angst of what to wear, whilst on the down side.
What had she been thinking when she’d packed it?
The short black tube skirt had seemed a good choice when packing as it took up a mere square inch of her backpack, and the crushed silk azure top took up even less space; only they showed off way more of her body than Meg really felt comfortable with—the confident, assured woman she had envisaged wearing these was probably a few weeks further into her getting her life together.
Stepping back, Meg stared at her reflection, took in the slender, tanned body, her hair scooped up and twisted into a casual but elegant style. Her face that had been void of make-up for her entire trip seemed unfamiliar now—her blue eyes sparkling vividly with the help of shimmering eye shadow and a slick of black mascara, high cheekbones accentuated with a hint of rouge and her lips plump and full with the help of some lipstick. But despite the vision that stared back at her, despite the transformation that had taken place in the small, cramped bathroom, still Meg eyed herself critically, fighting the urge to rip off the clothes, to rub off the make-up, to dive into her bed and pull the sheet over her head. She almost hated the woman who stared back at her, the confident, feminine, sultry image that belied the terrified child inside, her exposed flesh, the curves on her body, the jutting, high breasts, provoking terror within her. She knew that tonight she’d turn heads, that men would look at her, men like Luca….
Her throat felt tight as she swallowed hard, forced herself to relive that brief encounter. She could feel his eyes burning her skin all over again, the shock of sexual awareness fizzing through her body no matter how she’d tried to douse it. Since she’d first glimpsed him, since first he’d stepped closer into her personal space, Meg had felt unsettled, as if he’d taken some imaginary spoon and skillfully stirred her somewhere deep inside.
He was beautiful—even that blatantly obvious acknowledgement was a monumental feat for Meg, a step forward even. Too many times in the past she’d buried her feelings, refused to examine them, but standing there staring at her reflection, her knuckles white as she gripped the sink, Meg forced herself to stay with her feelings for a moment—to explore them. Those dark, liquid silk eyes had caressed her, the deep drawl of his voice had moved her, and Meg acknowledged how much she had wanted to take him up on his offer, and find out what exactly he had in store for her … to see him again!
‘No!’
She said the word out loud, pulled the window shut on the thoughts that were flittering in. He wanted her for how she looked—could look; he’d made that blatantly clear. Men like Luca were used to getting what they wanted, most women couldn’t resist their charms.
Only she wasn’t like most women.
‘You look fantastic!’ Jasmine thrust a glass of cheap wine into her hand as Meg stepped out from the bathroom. ‘I adore your top. Where did you get it?’
‘At a craft market in Queensland.’ Meg attempted girltalk, tried and wished to be as happy and carefree as Jasmine as they discussed her top; mind you, it was divine. The deepest azure, it scooped into a halter neck and from the front it looked elegant and simple, but it was rather more daring from behind, its low cut making the wearing of a bra impossible and instead revealing the vast expanse of her golden sun-kissed back and almost the entire column of her vertebra. The crushed silk fabric was caught at the bottom and ruched together in a glittering butterfly encrusted with glass beads and semiprecious stones. The moment Meg had set eyes on it she’d wanted it—one of the few impulse buys in her life.
‘Well, you look stunning,’ Jasmine affirmed with a slight hiccough as she forced down her wine. ‘Why on earth do you hide yourself away all the time?’
‘I don’t,’ Meg clipped, refusing to accept the compliment and certainly not answering the question. Instead, she took a sip of the drink and screwed up her face, wondering how Jasmine managed to drink it as if it were flavoured water. Her heart rate seemed to be topping a hundred and Meg knew that if they didn’t leave now, then she’d surely change her mind. ‘Come on, Jasmine—let’s