Italian knows when the spaghetti is done simply by looking.’
‘Where did you grow up in Italy?’ Ellery asked. It was an impulsive question, breaching the wall she’d erected between servant and guest. Tearing down the self-defences she’d made despite her resolve not to be involved. Interested.
Yet somehow she kept asking the questions, somehow she stayed. Her mind and body were clearly at war.
Larenz drained the pasta and ladled it into two bowls before replying. ‘I’m originally from Umbria,’ he finally said. ‘Near Spoleto, but really in the middle of nowhere.’
‘Your family is still there?’ Ellery asked.
Another pause. She felt as if the questions were becoming intrusive, although she’d meant them to be innocuous. ‘Not any longer,’ Larenz finally answered, and brought the bowls to the table. ‘Now let’s eat.’
He’d placed the bowls on one end of the table, leaving Ellery little choice but to sit next to him instead of her earlier, safer place at the far end. It would surely be offensive—and obvious—to move her bowl to the other end of the table.
Still, Ellery hesitated and Larenz glanced at her, clearly amused. ‘I don’t bite, you know. Unless asked, of course.’
Ellery rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, please.’ She sat down and, from the fleeting little grin he gave her, she knew he’d been outrageous on purpose; it had, strangely, put her at ease.
They ate for a few moments in a silence that was surprisingly companionable. Larenz’s knee occasionally pressed against hers, and Ellery wondered if it was accidental. He seemed unaware of the times when they touched, although surely he could see how those brief brushes affected her? Several layers of fabric separated their skin and yet, every time his knee pressed against hers, her whole body tensed as though preparing to resist an assault.
And it was an assault, an onslaught of the senses, for each time he touched her she felt her body—and her resolve—weakening further. She felt pleasure and need flood her body, overwhelm her senses, so that she couldn’t think about anything but the purely physical joy of being touched.
She wanted this. To be touched, desired, loved, even if it was only for a moment’s amusement.
No. The realization was far too shaming. She could not allow herself to think this way. Feel this way. Yet her body disagreed; every nerve blazed to life, every sinew singing with reawakened awareness. Her body wanted more.
And so her body betrayed her. Without being even fully cognizant of what she was doing, she moved her foot so it brushed against Larenz’s leg. She felt taut muscle under her toes. He didn’t even pause, and Ellery felt a ridiculous flaring of disappointment. What on earth was she doing? Was she actually playing footsie under the kitchen table?
And the most galling part was Larenz didn’t even notice.
Maybe he really hadn’t meant to touch her, the brushing of their knees no more than an accident. Perhaps his attraction, just like her own need, was all in her head. In her body, now stirring to life with suppressed longings and taking over her common sense. Larenz looked as if he felt nothing at all. And while that should relieve her—keep her safe—Ellery discovered, to her annoyance, that it simply made her feel frustrated.
He raised his head to smile at her, and Ellery knew she’d been caught staring. She turned resolutely back to her pasta. ‘So tell me about this business proposition of yours, if there really is one at all.’
‘You doubt me?’ Larenz asked, sounding amused. Ellery shrugged. ‘As a matter of fact, I own a chain of department stores—De Luca’s.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘You’ve heard of them?’
Ellery nodded. Of course she’d heard of them; there was a De Luca’s in nearly every major European city. She’d hardly call it a department store, though. It was too upmarket for that. She certainly couldn’t afford anything there. She supposed she should
‘Where did you grow up in Italy?’ Ellery asked. It was an impulsive question, breaching the wall she’d erected between servant and guest. Tearing down the self-defences she’d made despite her resolve not to be involved. Interested.
Yet somehow she kept asking the questions, somehow she stayed. Her mind and body were clearly at war.
Larenz drained the pasta and ladled it into two bowls before replying. ‘I’m originally from Umbria,’ he finally said. ‘Near Spoleto, but really in the middle of nowhere.’
‘Your family is still there?’ Ellery asked.
Another pause. She felt as if the questions were becoming intrusive, although she’d meant them to be innocuous. ‘Not any longer,’ Larenz finally answered, and brought the bowls to the table. ‘Now let’s eat.’
He’d placed the bowls on one end of the table, leaving Ellery little choice but to sit next to him instead of her earlier, safer place at the far end. It would surely be offensive—and obvious—to move her bowl to the other end of the table.
Still, Ellery hesitated and Larenz glanced at her, clearly amused. ‘I don’t bite, you know. Unless asked, of course.’
Ellery rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, please.’ She sat down and, from the fleeting little grin he gave her, she knew he’d been outrageous on purpose; it had, strangely, put her at ease.
They ate for a few moments in a silence that was surprisingly companionable. Larenz’s knee occasionally pressed against hers, and Ellery wondered if it was accidental. He seemed unaware of the times when they touched, although surely he could see how those brief brushes affected her? Several layers of fabric separated their skin and yet, every time his knee pressed against hers, her whole body tensed as though preparing to resist an assault.
And it was an assault, an onslaught of the senses, for each time he touched her she felt her body—and her resolve—weakening further. She felt pleasure and need flood her body, overwhelm her senses, so that she couldn’t think about anything but the purely physical joy of being touched.
She wanted this. To be touched, desired, loved, even if it was only for a moment’s amusement.
No. The realization was far too shaming. She could not allow herself to think this way. Feel this way. Yet her body disagreed; every nerve blazed to life, every sinew singing with reawakened awareness. Her body wanted more.
And so her body betrayed her. Without being even fully cognizant of what she was doing, she moved her foot so it brushed against Larenz’s leg. She felt taut muscle under her toes. He didn’t even pause, and Ellery felt a ridiculous flaring of disappointment. What on earth was she doing? Was she actually playing footsie under the kitchen table?
And the most galling part was Larenz didn’t even notice.
Maybe he really hadn’t meant to touch her, the brushing of their knees no more than an accident. Perhaps his attraction, just like her own need, was all in her head. In her body, now stirring to life with suppressed longings and taking over her common sense. Larenz looked as if he felt nothing at all. And while that should relieve her—keep her safe—Ellery discovered, to her annoyance, that it simply made her feel frustrated.
He raised his head to smile at her, and Ellery knew she’d been caught staring. She turned resolutely back to her pasta. ‘So tell me about this business proposition of yours, if there really is one at all.’
‘You doubt me?’ Larenz asked, sounding amused. Ellery shrugged. ‘As a matter of fact, I own a chain of department stores—De Luca’s.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘You’ve heard of them?’
Ellery nodded. Of course she’d heard of them; there was a De Luca’s in nearly every major European city. She’d hardly call it a department store, though. It was too upmarket for that. She certainly couldn’t afford anything there. She supposed she should
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