An Invitation to Sin(27)

‘Luca?' From somewhere in the distance Taylor's voice penetrated the mist of anger. ‘What are you doing?'

‘I'm doing what someone else should have done the moment he touched  you.' Springing back to his feet, he nursed his throbbing hand. ‘I'm  protecting you from him. Where the hell is everyone anyway?' He glanced  round and saw people emerge from The fringes of the set, openmouthed and  speechless.

‘I was demonstrating a scene, you idiot.' The director stumbled to his  feet, rubbing his bruised jaw with his palm. ‘She kept getting it  wrong.'

‘If she was getting it wrong then it must have been because your  direction sucked,' Luca said coldly, seriously tempted to knock him flat  again.

‘You shouldn't be on my set.' The other man stood there, covered in dust  and fuming. ‘I don't care if the producer is your cousin. You can't  barge in here and disrupt filming.'

Dealing with a suspicion that he might have overreacted just slightly, Luca turned his attention to Taylor.

Her hair was mussed up and wild, her face as pale as an Arctic winter, her slender frame impossibly fragile in the flimsy dress.

He spent his days dealing with women who were considered the most  beautiful in the world but in that moment he knew he'd never seen a  woman more beautiful than Taylor.

And suddenly he knew. He didn't just want the docklands for his advert, he wanted Taylor. ‘This is it.'

‘This is what?' Rafaele snapped the words but Luca ignored him.

‘This is the place.' Luca glanced around him, wondering why he hadn't  thought of it before. ‘It will be the perfect backdrop for the new  Corretti collection.'

‘Luca … ' This time it was Taylor who stammered his name and Luca strode  over to her and smoothed her tangled hair away from her face, worried by  how exhausted she looked.

‘I want to do the shoot here and I want you to model the clothes. We can  link it with the film. It will be great publicity for both sides of the  business. I'll talk to Santo.'

‘Luca, you just punched Rafaele. And your suit … ' She gave him a strange look. ‘You're covered in dirt.'

Surprised, he glanced down at himself and realised he hadn't given a  single thought to his appearance when he'd jumped the gates and wrestled  in the dirt. ‘There's a price to everything,' he drawled lightly. ‘I  wanted to stop him hurting you.'

‘But it was part of the film. This is my work.' Her eyes skidded to the  director and Luca felt a rush of emotion he couldn't interpret as he saw  the look they exchanged.

It was a look of two people who knew each other. Knew each other well.

‘You were struggling.'

‘That was the part I was playing. My character is very conflicted about seeing her husband again.'

‘You looked scared. Not the character, you. You were afraid of him.'

There was a few seconds of silence and then desperate eyes met his. ‘I  don't need you running to my rescue, Luca. What were you thinking?'                       
       
           



       

It wasn't what he'd expected her to say.

He'd expected gratitude, even silent gratitude. He hadn't expected criticism and he certainly hadn't expected that question.

What had he been thinking? Just for a moment his brain froze. ‘I'm your  fiancé.' He was relieved as the answer came to him. Yes, that was why  he'd reacted in such an extreme way. He'd got so deeply into the role  that he was actually starting to feel the way a fiancé should feel. What  did they call it? Method acting or something. ‘When I see you in  trouble I'm going to try and protect you, and yes, I'm a touch  possessive. Don't expect me to apologise for that. I'm Sicilian. We  don't hand our women over to other men without a fight. If that isn't  what you want from a relationship then maybe you're with the wrong guy.'

Her shock mirrored his own.

What the hell was he saying?

He didn't want the relationship to end. And anyway, how could you end something that wasn't real in the first place?

Freaked out by a nagging voice that told him he'd totally lost the plot this time, Luca turned on his heel and strode away.

‘Luca wait. Wait!' Taylor sprinted after him, ignoring the sick feeling  in her stomach that was her barometer of trouble. She knew a bucket load  of it waited for her back on set but right now she had other things on  her mind. Like Luca's extreme reaction.

She'd never seen him anything but relaxed. Even when he was driving too  fast or drinking too much she had the sense that every action he took  was deliberate, but this …

He'd been out of control, and if she needed confirmation of that then all she had to do was look at his suit.

Luca Corretti was never anything less than immaculate and yet his  perfectly tailored suit was marked from his scuffle on the ground and  there was a small tear in the leg of his trousers, no doubt caused when  he'd jumped the fence. Jumped the fence to protect her.

Her heart was racing like a horse leading the field in the derby. All  day she'd tried to block out memories of the night before but she  thought about it now, her mind and her body remembering the intensity,  the intimacy, everything they'd shared.

‘Don't walk away-don't-' She caught up with him by the gate and grabbed  his arm, releasing him immediately as he shook her off. ‘Just … wait, will  you? We need to talk.'

He stopped walking but his face was cold. Colder than she'd ever seen it. ‘You just made it clear I'm not welcome on the set.'

‘Because we're in the middle of filming, but-' She glanced over her shoulder quickly and his face blackened.

‘So are you going to tell me what is going on between you and that guy? I mean, what's really going on?'

Taylor's mouth dried and her heart bumped hard against her ribs. ‘Nothing.'

‘This is me you're talking to.' His voice was thickened with emotion as  he closed the gap between them. ‘Last night we shared everything. Last  night you were honest. Don't ever hide who you are from me.'

Was she the only one who thought this conversation was crazy? ‘Last  night was … ' What was it? Taylor shoved her fingers through her hair, not  knowing how to begin to unravel the emotions at play here. Not knowing  which questions to ask or which answers she wanted to hear. Glancing  over her shoulder, she checked no one was close enough to overhear them.  ‘Is this you acting? Because I don't know what's real and what isn't  any more.'

There was a long pulsing silence.

Luca stared at her. Something flickered across his face. ‘You were scared.'

She took a step backwards, shaken that he'd seen that when no one else had. ‘I was acting.'

‘No, that was real. You were scared.' He pushed and pushed, cracking  open the shell she'd put around herself, seeing right through to the  truth. ‘I know you were scared and as long as he scares you, I'll be  there to protect you.'

That statement ripped away another layer of her protection. ‘Why?' The  word was barely a whisper and it was a long time before he answered.

‘Because I'm your fiancé.'

Taylor looked away quickly, horrified to realise she'd hoped for a  different answer. ‘You were … very convincing. Unfortunately you've also  upset another director.'

And she knew just what that could cost her.

Rafaele was the wrong man to upset.

And suddenly fury mingled with despair. She'd been walking on eggshells  trying not to upset him and now Luca had made things worse. ‘Did you  have to go to those lengths? You humiliated him. You made him look like a  fool.'                       
       
           



       

‘He did that with no help from me.' Luca was unrepentant. ‘Why was he kissing you anyway?'

‘Because he was demonstrating a scene.' She rubbed her fingers over her  aching forehead, feeling crushed by the situation. ‘If he walks out too,  Santo will freak.'

‘I hope he does walk. I don't like the way he looks at you.'

Slowly she dropped her hand to her side. ‘You mean the fake part of you  that is "engaged" to me doesn't like the way he looks at me? I think you  just might have blown my film career by acting out a part we created in  order to protect my film career.' She looked away from him because  looking at him made her think of the night before and they were both in  enough trouble. ‘And what about you? You agreed to this to make yourself  respectable. Does your board approve of a man fighting over his woman?'

‘Of course. They're Sicilian.' But he was frowning, as if something  she'd said had given him pause for thought. ‘I don't want to have blown  your career. I'll talk to Santo.'