Our Little Secret Rachael Stewart (best novels to read in english .TXT) 📖

me. It looks very much like a croissant. A very sweet and carb-loaded croissant. ‘Doesn’t it defeat the point of going for a run this morning, eating all this naughtiness?’

‘These are the reason I run.’

I take it from him with a grin. ‘You have a sweet tooth?’

‘And that surprises you?’

‘Yes.’ My grin widens. ‘You’re really not what I expected, Rafael Perez.’

He frowns as his eyes sparkle. ‘What did you expect?’

‘I don’t dare say. You’ll have to ask Dani.’

He laughs, low and husky. ‘Fair enough. Now go, and when you bite into it, and your taste buds dance, know that it tastes only a fraction as good as you do.’

I’m on cloud nine as I walk away, nibbling at the delicious pastry, his soft, ‘Ciao, bella,’ following behind.

CHAPTER SIX

Danielle and Tyler’s Wedding Week

Monday: Dive and Dine. Poolside, two p.m.

‘SI, DANTE, CIAO.’

I end the second call with my cousin that day and place my phone on the antique escritoire that sits alongside the opening to my balcony. It’s positioned to make the most of the view, and as I take up my drink, I do just that. I try to lose myself in the rolling hills as I massage the knot at the base of my skull.

It’s no use, though. Neither my fingers nor the view can work the same magic as Faye and take away the pressure that’s been building since my showdown with Marianna. As for her ‘issues’, I’ve had the staff move her to a room at the front of the house, which makes the most of the stunning landscape but brings her far too close to my wing. And I had the ‘talk’ about suitable male companions—more to pay lip service to the idea than actually to acquiesce and, for now, she is quiet.

And quiet means temporarily out of trouble.

I left her changing for the pool, where all the guests are gathering for an afternoon of fun and food, and escaped to my room to call Dante back. He should have been here by now but his call this morning was to let me know that Nonna had had a fall and it had delayed their trip to the airport. Cue missed flights and the rigmarole of having to source new ones, as well as making sure Nonna was still fit to fly. Turns out her own stubborn refusal to accept aid down the stairs resulted in her little accident and Dante getting a flustered apology from Nonna and an ear-bashing from his own mother, my Aunt Netta.

As for Aunt Netta herself, no sooner had I cut the call than the phone had rung again, with Netta herself informing me that, regardless of what her sister Marianna had told her, she was bringing her plus-one, and if her sister didn’t like it she could shove her phone where the sun don’t shine. And, me being me, I said yes. Yes, to get her off the phone, and yes, to rile my mother more—which is damn stupid but, the way my head is throbbing, I’m passed caring about my mother’s petty issues.

And, truth is, I have a PA who could deal with all this chaos, even the kind caused by my mother. Hell, even the wedding planner would have stepped in. But it’s my family, my mess, my responsibility. No one else deserves the aggro of it, or the embarrassment.

So here I am, at two o’clock in the afternoon, sinking a grappa and contemplating hiding for the rest of the day, even though I can’t. The wedding itinerary says ‘dive and dine poolside’—yes, in those exact words—and that’s what I’ll do. I’ve yet to greet the latest arrivals—Tyler’s parents and his best man, Harry, who I’ve met many a time before, but not his wedding date.

Plus... Faye will be there.

My blood fires of its own accord and I head for the third cold shower of the day. One pre-Faye, one post-Faye and now pre-Faye-in-a-swimsuit.

I blame it entirely on the impromptu end to our fun. To the memory of her coming hard against my mouth and having to let her leave without sinking myself deep inside her and achieving my release.

She certainly got hers.

Me...

I’m left in this state of semi-arousal that makes donning a pair of swim trunks wholly unadvisable. And yet necessary.

I take a deep breath and hit the cold jets, all with a sense of déjà vu and the acceptance that it won’t be the last time I try to freeze my head out of my pants this week.

Faye is different. My reaction to her is different. And that makes her a problem.

A problem I don’t know how to fix...other than to try to get my fill of her.

I squint into the full-length mirror in my room. It’s okay if I do that. The sheer mesh panels in the front of my swimsuit merge into a more opaque, solid colour and my skin’s not so on show. Damn Dani and her outrageous tastes.

Or maybe I should curse the fizz we consumed during our trip to the exclusive swimwear boutique she took us to. We had the entire place to ourselves, three sales assistants and more attention than I knew what to do with.

But the result...

I peak through one eye. It’s not that bad. I turn in the mirror and eye my rear; that’s perfectly sedate. Yes, just focus on the rear, not the front, not the barely concealed curve to each breast, the nipple just about hidden. One wrong move and—

My phone pings on the bedside table and I lunge for it, eyeing the swimsuit positioning after the boldness of the move and finding my nipples still have their dignity. That’s something at least...

I look to the phone. It’s a text from Dani:

Come on, slow coach, I’m waiting. Dante’s just arrived, and I can’t wait to see his eyes pop out of his sockets at your...

I shut the screen down without reading the rest, my cheeks flushing crimson. This is wild. Too wild. And she’s