CHAPTER TWO

      ‘ARE YOU HUNGRY?’

      He didn’t look up as she entered; Tilly hadn’t even realised he’d heard her.

      ‘Not really.’

      She paused inside the doorframe, studying him surreptitiously from behind hooded eyes. She caught the moment he lifted his head, saw his eyes running over her figure, his face giving nothing away. She’d have loved to pull on a baggy shirt and jeans, but she’d only packed frothy dresses and bikinis. She’d chosen the most conservative of the dresses—a dark blue linen that fell to her knees.

      Wary of distracting him when he was in the middle of working, she gnawed on her lip for a moment. Then, ‘My phone doesn’t work here.’

      That caught his attention. He flicked a brief glance at her. ‘No. There’s no cell tower. No infrastructure of any nature.’

      She nodded, but one side of her mouth quirked downwards at the corner. ‘What do you do in an emergency?’

      ‘What kind of emergency?’ he prompted curiously.

      ‘Um...any kind. A band of marauding pirates storming the beach, or any angry flock of seagulls pecking their way across the sand...’

      His smile was unexpected—and so was its effect. Her tummy filled with frantic butterflies; her skin dotted with goosebumps.

      ‘You don’t think I could defend you against a band of pirates?’

      She arched a brow. ‘I think you have an inflated sense of your physical abilities.’

      He arched a brow. ‘A theory I’m willing to disprove at any time,’ he promised darkly.

      And now the butterflies went into overdrive, fluttering down to her knees and making them wobbly.

      ‘I’m serious,’ she said, the words stiffened by disapproval. ‘What if there’s a fire, or you break your leg or something?’

      ‘I have a satellite phone.’ He shrugged.

      ‘But what about emails?’

      ‘I can connect to it for internet access,’ he said. ‘It’s slow as hell, but it gets the job done.’

      ‘Electricity? Water?’

      ‘Generator. Tank.’

      Her mind was busy processing that. ‘Whoever built this really wanted to be off the grid.’

      ‘Not a lot of options on a deserted island,’ he pointed out, with a pragmatism that annoyed her.

      ‘I don’t know... It seems like a post-apocalyptic bolthole.’

      Or the perfect love-nest for a cheat and liar, Rio amended silently. How many women had Piero brought here over the years? Whispering sweet nothings about Prim’amore, promising a future he had no intention of providing.

      ‘Do you need to use the phone?’ he asked belatedly, drawing his attention back to her original query.

      Fantasies of calling Cressida and unloading on her were clouds Tilly would never catch. Of course she could do no such thing. Besides, Cressida had said she was ‘going to ground’ until the wedding—that she didn’t want to be seen or heard by anyone for the week, and that included turning her cell phone off.

      Tilly shook her head, a distracted smile flickering across her lips. ‘I thought I’d go exploring.’

      He stood, and ran a hand through his hair. His shirt lifted, revealing an inch of tanned flat abdomen. She looked away as though she’d been burned.

      ‘You know I only have a week, and Art is... Daddy is,’ she corrected quickly, ‘keen to hear what I think of the place.’

      ‘Your wish is my command.’ His voice was low and husky and her body reacted instantly, her nipples straining against the fabric of her dress, her eyes widening. And he saw. She just knew he was aware of the effect he was having.

      ‘I’m fine.’ She shook her head with an attempt at professional detachment. ‘I can find my own way.’

      His face wore a slow, sardonic grin. ‘Just like you were fine to get off the boat?’

      She huffed. ‘That’s not very gentlemanly of you.’

      ‘What gave you the impression I’m a gentleman?’ he queried softly, moving closer so that she found thoughts difficult to string together.

      ‘Nothing,’ she muttered. ‘But I really will be fine. I’m just going to walk along the beach today. If I get lost, I’ll turn back. Even I should be able to navigate my way around an island without coming to grief.’

      ‘Still,’ he said, wondering in the back of his mind why he was arguing with her. ‘I’m here to show you around.’

      She nodded, lifting her gaze to his face thoughtfully. She caught a flicker of emotion in his eyes that she didn’t understand. ‘Why?’

      He shrugged. ‘Because it’s a big island and you could get lost.’

      ‘No, I mean why you? You must have people who could sell an island for you.’

      ‘Yes.’ His mouth was a grim slash in his face.

      ‘So? Aren’t you too busy to act as tour guide?’

      Rio thought of the paperwork cluttering his desk in Rome and shook his head. Contracts for the high-rise in Manhattan. The lease for the Canadian mall. The purchase offer he’d made on a mine in Australia.

      It could wait. Keeping the invasive tabloid press away from his private life was priority number one. He’d spent the last five years making sure his parentage wasn’t revealed, and he wasn’t going to let the truth come out now. Involving more people than necessary in this deal was a sure-fire way to invite public attention.

      ‘Yes.’

      Why had he decided that distraction was the best way to get her off the scent and stop her questions? He couldn’t have said, but he moved closer, noting with interest the way her pupils darkened.

      ‘But I don’t really like the idea of you drowning in my ocean. Or tumbling off a cliff on my land.’

      ‘Your ocean? Your land? Someone’s got a bit of a God complex, haven’t they?’

      His laugh was deep; it resonated right through her.

      ‘Until your father signs on the dotted line, that is the truth of the matter.’

      She tilted her head to one side, lost in thought. ‘I don’t know if I believe anyone truly owns an island like this.’

      ‘I have a piece of paper that would beg to differ.’

      She waved her hand through the air distractedly. ‘Yes, yes—legally. But don’t you think...?’ She left the sentence unfinished as she realised what she’d been about to say. Discussing her personal philosophies wasn’t part of the job. And, essentially, she was on Prim’amore to work.

      She’d been paid—and paid a small fortune. Now she had to uphold her end of the bargain.

      ‘Yes?’ he prompted, but Tilly had zipped away from their conversation.

      ‘Well,’ she said, injecting her voice with the same sense of entitlement she’d personally been on the receiving end of any time Cressida had called and asked for a favour, ‘if you really want to waste your time playing sales agent, then let’s go.’

      He arched a brow, but if he was surprised by her pronouncement he didn’t otherwise show it.

      Tilly did a pretty good Cressida huff as she strode down