Say You Will (7 page)

The sullen teenager shrugged. “Out. She dumped me here so Fran could watch me.”

“Do you need watching?”

“Mum thinks so.” She said it dully, but Rosalind could tell that the fact that Viola didn’t think she was grown up enough to stay at home on her own chafed her.

Rosalind looked at the piercing in Chloe’s nostril. It was at odds with the dark pleated skirt of her school uniform. It made her wonder if the once angelic child she remembered was a wild child now.

“Want some help?” Chloe asked with the disinterested drawl of a bored teenager. “It’s not like I’m doing anything, anyway.”

Rosalind looked at the long line of paintings. “Sure. Look behind the frames and let me know if you see anything strange.”

“We’re not going to be able to reach the paintings up there.” She pointed up high. “We need a chair or something to climb on.”

“I can ask for a ladder when we get to it.” She pursed her lips as she looked up. “I’ll ask for a broom, too. It looks cobwebby.”

The teenager shrugged and began checking behind the paintings. Rosalind watched her inspect one. She’d expected the girl to give it a quick glance and then move on, but Chloe surprised her by being thorough—running her hands along the frame and the backing, like she was feeling for suspicious bulges.

Satisfied, she recommenced her own search.

Chloe broke their companionable silence. “You don’t like it here, do you?”

Rosalind glanced at her. “Why do you think that?”

The teenager shrugged as she looked behind a painting. “This is the first time you’ve been back, isn’t it? I heard Mum and Dad fighting about it.”

Frowning, she stopped and faced her niece. “Your mother and father were fighting over me?”

“Mum wanted to ask you over for dinner and Dad told her she couldn’t, because you obviously didn’t care about her anyway. Is it true you never call?”

“I call.” Sometimes. She felt a pang of guilt for not being in touch more, though her sisters weren’t much better, except for Beatrice. “Your parents were fighting?”

“They’re always fighting,” the teenager said in a disinterested voice that suggested she wasn’t as detached as she acted.

Was Viola having marital problems? Was that why she’d looked drawn?

“This is boring.” Chloe stopped suddenly and stepped back. “I’m done.”

Rosalind bet it was her parents’ fighting she was really done with. But she nodded. “Thanks for helping.”

“Good luck finding your diamonds. If you find weed, let me know.”

“Right.” She shook her head and continued to search on her own.

Chapter Nine

Luca whistled, his gaze wolfish as he stalked toward her. “Nico, I think I’m in love.”

Nick followed more slowly behind his rival. “You say that each time.”

“This time, I mean it.” The Italian shook his head. “Look at her curves.”

“She looks wide.”

“She’s voluptuous.” Brow furrowed, Luca turned to face him. “I always have to remind myself that you’re British and therefore can’t appreciate the true female form.”

“I’m being practical.” Nick shook his head at the Lamborghini. “London streets are narrow. Can you imagine navigating her through them?”

“
Caro
, in this car, people move out of your way. I bet she growls and claws when you turn her on.” Luca hummed deep in his throat, smiling like he eyed a new lover.

Nick was about to reply when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He withdrew it, frowning when he saw the unfamiliar number. Holding a finger up to Luca, he walked out of the dealership to answer the call. “Hello.”

“Nick, it’s Rosalind.”

He paused, his heart catching at the sound of her voice. How had she gotten his number?

Summer, of course.

“I take it you’re not happy to hear from me,” she said in a self-deprecating tone.

Sighing, he rubbed his neck. “I shouldn’t be happy, Rosalind, but I’m ecstatic.”

“So ecstatic you’re willing to rescue me?”

“Is this a ploy to get my clothes off?”

She laughed, a light chuckle that warmed his belly. “You should be so lucky. No, it’s a serious plea. I need to get some work done, and my sister is making it impossible to think. I thought maybe you could pick me up and take me someplace interesting.”

“Interesting,” he repeated, suspicious.

She sighed. “You drive a hard bargain, Nick. Fine, this will be a nonsexual outing. This time. See you in half an hour.” She hung up.

He stared at his phone. He guessed he was going to pick her up.

Luca grinned knowingly. “That was a woman, and you want her.”

“You sound sure of that.”

“Of course I’m sure. I’m Italian.” The man shrugged. “You looked hungry when you talked to her. What did she say?”

That she wanted his clothes off, but he wasn’t going to pass that on to his rival. “She was just checking in.”

Luca faced him, his curiosity peaked. “You’re interested in this woman. What is she like?”

“Fat and ugly, and she wears man shoes.”

He raised his brows. “She must be beautiful, then. When can I meet her?”

“Never,” he vowed devoutly.

“You love her,” Luca declared.

Love? He’d only just met her, and he was trying his hardest to avoid her.

But deep inside, he wondered if what he felt was the seed of love. Excitement, longing for her, needing to see her smile …

Pathetic.

And wonderful, even if it defied reason. He hadn’t done more than kiss her. “It’s complicated.”

Luca’s brow furrowed. “How complicated could it be? Propose to her. No woman is going to turn you down. Unless, of course, she meets me.”

Nick shook his head. “I’ve always admired your modesty.”

The Italian shrugged. “There’s much about me to admire.”

Nick tucked his phone away. “I can’t propose to her. She doesn’t know who I am.”

“It takes a lifetime to truly know a person.”

“No, she literally doesn’t know who I am.” He grimaced. “She thinks I’m a lawyer.”

“You’re not smart enough to be a lawyer.”

Nick eyed his companion. “When are you going back to Italy again?”

Luca smiled slyly. “Tell me more about this woman.”

“No.”

“She wants to see you,” he said with authority.

She did, but he couldn’t betray Summer, and he didn’t want to deceive Rosalind. It was a conundrum.

Luca put his arm around his shoulder. “There’s a simple solution to every problem, my friend.”

“What?”

“Sex. You take her to bed and the rest won’t matter.”

“It matters that she thinks I’m a different person than I was presented to her.” He shrugged the Italian off him. He didn’t feel right about misrepresenting himself to her.

“It’s not your CV that needs to be impressive, my friend. She’ll forgive the rest.”

“Would you, if you found out that the woman you loved had lied to you about who she was?”

Luca shrugged in his Italian way. “How much do I love her?”

Nick nodded. “That’s the question, isn’t it?”

“Aren’t you going to find out?”

“Maybe.” He saluted Luca and went to pick Rosalind up.

She was pacing outside her family home on the sidewalk. She brightened visibly when he pulled up to the curb.

Hurrying to him, she hopped in his car and smiled at him with a combination of relief and happiness. “Thank you,” she said simply.

For a moment, Summer and her machinations faded in the background, and he was with the only woman he wanted to be with. “You wanted someplace interesting.”

She nodded as she strapped herself in. “Yes. And inspiring.”

“What sort of inspiration are we looking for?”

“Different tastes and textures for Sara’s wedding dress.”

He pressed his lips closed so he wouldn’t tell her not to bother working on it.

“I’m having tea with her in a couple days, and I wanted to have some ideas ready.” She angled toward him. “I hope you don’t mind.”

The only thing he minded was Summer’s deviousness. He’d talk to her again. In the meantime, he shook his head and gave Rosalind a reassuring smile. “I know exactly where to take you.”

“Good.” She ran her hands over the leather seats. “This is nice. What is it?”

“A Lotus.”

“Being a lawyer in London obviously pays off.”

He made a noncommittal sound, secretly vowing to kill Summer. Lotus was actually his largest sponsor—the car cost him practically nothing.

Zipping through traffic, they arrived across town in record time. They both got out of the car and met on the sidewalk. He gestured to the right. “This way.”

Rosalind took his arm and tugged him toward her to kiss him.

For a moment, he revelled in the feel of her lips on his. But he wasn’t going to do this, so he pulled away.

She grabbed his coat’s lapel and held him close, pressing her body against his as if she knew that’d paralyze him with pleasure.

It did, and then her kisses penetrated his common sense, heating him up to a slow, dangerous boil. Unable to help himself, knowing he may never allow himself another chance, he touched her face, her neck, her hair, wishing he could explore more of her.

He let his lips linger on hers before he lifted his head. “This was going to be nonsexual.”

She licked her lips. “I don’t see anything sexual happening.”

“Then you’re either lying or not paying attention.” He tipped his head to the left. “Inspiration awaits.”

“I was already feeling plenty inspired,” she mumbled, straightening her clothes.

“That’s because you haven’t seen Borough Market yet.” He waited for her to fall into step alongside him. “There’s not a scrap of clothing for sale there.”

She laughed. “Then how will it be inspiring?”

“You wanted new tastes and textures. Each stall has something different to offer, treats from all over the world.” He squeezed her hand. “I’ll show you.”

“Okay.” She walked close to him, so their hips bumped from time to time. “This is perfect actually, because you know Sara so well you can show me things she likes. How long have you been friends?”

“Entirely too long.” At Rosalind’s questioning look, he shook his head. “I’ve known her since she was born. We grew up together.”

He congratulated himself for sticking to the truth, however abbreviated.

“I don’t have many friends from childhood. It was always me and my sisters,” Rosalind said, her tone thoughtful. “It’s nice that you stayed close to Sara, because my sisters and I barely know each other anymore.”

“That’s a shame.” He glanced at her. “Isn’t it?”

She smiled. “Yes, it is. Do you have siblings?”

“Just a stepsister.” Before she could ask for more details, he said, “What do you usually do for inspiration?”

“Sometimes I have high tea at the Top of the Mark. Sometimes I walk in nature, in Marin, or I take a bus ride through colorful neighborhoods. It depends on the bride and what feeling I want her dress to convey.”

“The dress conveys a feeling?”

Rosalind nodded. “And an attitude. It’s sometimes borrowed from the bride, but usually the dress gives the person wearing it
oomph
. I just have to capture the right feeling, so the bride feels comfortable in the dress and not like she’s battling it.”

“Wedding dresses are more complicated than I thought.”

“You have no idea.” She pointed to a chocolate store. “It’s like the chocolate. There are hundreds of different flavors, to appeal to different people.”

He pulled her into the shop and pointed to the sample pieces on the counter. “Shall we see which flavor appeals to you?”

“I have a suspicion I know which one I’ll like,” she said in a husky voice that grabbed him low.

Careful to keep his distance, he held a bite of chocolate out to her. He watched her eyelids lower as her mouth opened to accept it. Her lips brushed his finger, and she hummed a low, throaty sound of content.

She’d make the same sound naked, riding him—he knew it without a doubt. His lower half perked up at the thought, and he couldn’t help leaning closer to her.

Gaze locked with his, she held his wrist and brought his finger back to her mouth, her tongue lapping the chocolate that’d melted on it. Her teeth nipped his skin, and she closed her lips over it and sucked for a brief second.

He tugged her against his body. “I feel like you’re asking for a different kind of inspiration.”

“I’m not sure I need to ask.” She pressed her hips against him. “You seem to know what I need.”

He knew what
he
needed, but he knew better than to go there before Summer and her scheming were resolved. “We should move along,” he said.

“You have a look,” Rosalind said as he led her outside. “You’re thinking of the future and what’s going to happen.”

He nodded, not at all surprised that she could read him so clearly.

“Don’t think about it. I want this to happen, regardless of where we end up.” She stopped and cupped his face. “I’m a big girl. I can handle whatever goes on here. I want to handle it.”

His groin tightened at her obvious insinuation. “And if something happens that we don’t expect?”

“I can safely say that’s already happened,” she said, “because I never expected to come back to London and find this.”

He felt her hand twine in his, and his heart filled his chest.

She looked at him, her eyes begging him to kiss her.

He couldn’t tell her no—not when she looked at him that way. He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her. Walking her backwards, his lips nibbling hers, his body pressed hers against the stone wall of the building.

Before he could stop himself, his hands slipped under her top. They both groaned. “I’ve been wanting to touch your skin since I laid eyes on you,” he heard himself say.

“But you keep telling me no.” She shivered as his hands trailed up her midriff, and then moaned as he pressed his hardness against her.

“Because I care about you.” He grazed her nipples with his thumbs, and their kiss grew hotter. He trailed kisses along her jaw to her ear. “But that doesn’t mean that I don’t want you. Since the moment I saw you, I haven’t been able to stop imagining stripping you and touching every inch of you.”