But will it last? Being the woman in Vito’s life?
An invisible tremor went through her. One day would she be the next Stephanie? The next beautiful blonde ex?
Or was something else growing between them? Something that would mean much more to both of them? Could there be?
Again, the questions hovered in her mind. Seeking answers that it was too soon for her to give. Reminding her of the need for caution where her heart was concerned.
Hadn’t her mother fallen head over heels in love, committed herself in marriage on a whirlwind of romance, only to find out too late how deeply incompatible she and her husband were on matters that were of profound importance to them both? A discovery that had torn them apart and lost their daughter her father.
I mustn’t make the same mistake. It would be so easy to tell myself I’m in love with Vito! Especially when I’m living this kind of dream existence...one gorgeous hotel after another!
But his European tour would be completed soon, for it was all part of Vito making his mark in his new role as head of Viscari Hotels. It was a role he’d been jettisoned into at the young age of only thirty-one, after the unexpected death of his father.
‘I’ve had to step into large shoes,’ he’d told Eloise, his face shadowed. ‘I’m the only Viscari left—the only one to carry on the legacy. It all rests on me now. I can’t let my father down.’
Had there been a tension in his voice that was more than grief for his lost father? But all he had gone on to say was how Viscari Hotels had been founded by his great-grandfather, the redoubtable Ettore Viscari, at the end of the nineteenth century, during the heyday of luxury hotels. He had then passed it on to his son, and thence to his two grandsons—Vito’s father, Enrico, and Vito’s childless uncle Guido.
It had been Guido who’d overseen a major expansion of the chain across the globe, as more and more international locations had become fashionable destinations for the rich clientele the hotels catered to.
Now, as the fourth generation of the Viscari family, it was clear to Eloise, that Vito was pressingly conscious of the legacy he had been left to run, and of the demands it made on him—including much of his social life, as it was this evening and all the evenings since she’d been with him.
‘All this socialising with people who are or who will be guests at the hotels is unavoidable,’ he said now. ‘But, however wearing it gets, I can never let it show.’ The shadows had left Vito’s face. ‘Your being with me makes it so much less onerous!’
It lifted her heart to hear him say such things, and she felt a familiar little thrill go through her—a thrill that was accentuated when, as he helped her to a plate of delicious food, she saw a telltale glint in Vito’s dark, lustrous eyes.
Soon—oh, very soon—he would murmur his farewells to their hostess for the evening, take his leave of the other guests smoothly, courteously, and then whisk Eloise away to his suite to have her entirely to himself! To indulge in a night of exquisite, sensual bliss...
A tremor of anticipation went through her. Making love with Vito was like nothing she had ever known! His skilled, sensitive touch could bring her to an ecstasy that left her breathless, took her soaring into a stratosphere she had never known existed—and that seemed to sweep away all her questions and wariness about her headlong romance with him.
As she lay in his arms later, her heart beating like a wild bird, she felt emotion pour through her. Felt full of longing...
Oh, Vito—be the one for me! Be the one man for me!
It was so easy—so dangerously easy—to believe that he was that one man she could love.
But dare I believe it? Dare I?
She could not answer—only knew in those moments that above all else she longed to dare. Longed to believe he was the man for her. Longed to let herself love him.
VITO EASED THE throttle and settled down into a cruising speed along the autostrada. They’d just passed the Franco-Italian border at Mentone and were heading to his next stop, the Viscari San Remo, along the Riviera dei Fiori.
It had been a crowded morning, meeting with his managers at the Monte Carlo Viscari, outlining his strategy, addressing their specific issues, taking in their input and feedback. That had been followed by a working lunch, and only now, in mid-afternoon, were they travelling on. Heading back into Italy.
He was filled with mixed emotions. It was good to be back in his homeland after weeks out of the country, that was for certain, and yet he was all too aware that his extensive European tour—necessary though it had been—had been something he’d welcomed for quite different reasons than simply to make his mark as the new head of the company with his management teams.
It had got him out of Rome. Given him a lengthy break away from the city and the complications that it contained. Complications he could well do without.
Automatically, his mouth tightened. Those complications still awaited him, and in a couple of days they would be in the forefront of his life again. Somehow he would have to deal with them.
But not yet.
Deliberately, he shook them from his thoughts. No need to spoil these last few carefree days—not when he had Eloise at his side.
Eloise! He turned to glance at her, and as his eyes lit briefly on her beautiful profile he felt his spirits lighten. How totally and absolutely glad he was to have followed through on that first overpowering instinct that had speared him as he’d raised her to her feet from the concourse at Heathrow airport.
Of course it had been her glowing blonde beauty that had first captivated him—how could he possibly have resisted such a gift! He’d always had a passion for blondes, ever since he’d been a teenager, first discovering the enticements of the opposite sex, and as he’d looked down at the gorgeous, long-legged, golden-haired beauty who’d been gazing up at him with celestial blue eyes out of a face that was as gorgeous as the rest of her, he’d been instantly smitten.
The immediate desire he’d felt for her then had been richly fulfilled in Paris, and it had seemed the most natural thing in the world to continue his European tour with her at his side. With every new destination he’d reaffirmed how right he’d been. For it was clear to him that it was not merely Eloise’s stunning looks that were so captivating. Unlike so many of his previous inamoratas—the elegant Stephanie in Nice, for example—Eloise was possessed of a sweetness of nature he had not encountered before. She was never capricious, never demanding, never out of temper. Her sunny mood seemed constant, and she was always willing and complaisant, easy-going and smiling, happy to do whatever he wanted to do.
He had never known another woman like her.
His eyes went back to the road ahead. There was a slight question in his expression now. In a couple of days they’d be in Rome.
Will we still be together?
Or would it be time to end their affair? In his many previous love affairs it had always been he who’d moved on, bidding his lover a graceful farewell before waiting for the next beautiful blonde to cross his path and catch his interest. He’d enjoyed every affair, had been faithful and attentive during the course of each one, but when he’d ended them he’d had no regrets about knowing it had run its course.
A frown shadowed his eyes. Would it always be like that? One easy affair after another? Until—
Until what? What is it that I want?
It wasn’t a question he’d ever posed to himself so insistently. Yet he knew the answer to it all the same. Maybe he’d always known it.
I