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of alcohol seared a path behind her sternum.

An antipasto course was served. The staff didn’t leave so they spoke of general things. Luca asked about the rest of her presentation, and Amy managed to say something lucid.

“What drew you to public relations as a career?” he inquired.

“Dumb luck. I was serving drinks at a pub. They had a band coming in, and I put it on my social media feeds. My circle was quite posh from school, daughters of celebs and such. One was a girl from a movie that was a cult favorite. She came out, and it turned the pub into that summer’s hot spot. Another pub asked me to put them on the map, and word got out on the music circuit. Instead of serving drinks, I started planning and promoting events. The more people I knew, the more I got to know.”

“I presumed you’d taken a degree, not learned on the job.”

“I’ve since taken a vocational qualification.” She didn’t have to elaborate on why she hadn’t gone to uni. Rice and fish were served, delicately spiced with saffron and scallions.

While they enjoyed it, he told her some more history about the palace and his country.

By the time they’d finished with a custard tart topped with whipped cream and fresh berries, they had discovered they both enjoyed mind-teaser puzzles, horseback riding—though they found little time to pursue it—and shared a fascination with remote places on Earth.

Amy had forgotten who he was and why she was here. This had become the most effortless, enjoyable date she’d been on in ages.

Then Luca told the server, “We’ll take coffee in my drawing room,” and Amy crashed back to reality. This wasn’t a date.

She found a smile and said, “Coffee sounds good.”

A few minutes later, they walked down the hall to the room where they’d kissed last night. The drapes were open, allowing sunshine to pour into the expansive space, but it still felt intimate once the espresso had been served and they were alone.

She understood the expression “walking on eggshells” as she approached the sofa. Each step crushed something fragile underfoot. Should she acknowledge last night? Express regret and move on? Ignore it completely and see if he brought it up?

“I saw your press release this morning,” she said, deciding on an oblique reference to the phone call that had pulled them apart last night. “I’m glad things weren’t more serious.”

After a brief pause, he drawled, “You ought to defuse bombs for a living.”

“I do,” she replied mildly, obeying his wave and sinking onto the cushion. “Proverbial ones.” She felt as though a sizzling string was running toward a bundle of dynamite sitting beneath her.

She added a few grains of raw, golden sugar to her coffee. He took his black.

“It’s fine if we’re not going to talk about it,” she said in the most unconcerned tone she could find, sitting back and bringing her cup and saucer with her. “I respect boundaries. Yesterday’s evidence to the contrary,” she added with a wince of self-recrimination. “I don’t make a habit of behaving so unprofessionally.”

“My behavior was wildly inappropriate, given my title and the fact I’ve hired you. I want to be clear that I expect nothing from you beyond the work I’ve commissioned from London Connection. If our contract is something you’d prefer to dissolve now, I would understand.”

Weren’t they the most civilized people on the planet? And why did it make her feel as though she was swallowing acid?

“We bear equal responsibility.”

“Do we?” He sounded so lethal, it struck her as an accusation. Her heart lurched.

“I’m not a victim.” Conviction rang in her tone. She refused to be one ever again. “I don’t think you are, either. Are you?” It took everything in her to hold his gaze and not shake so hard she’d spill hot coffee on her knee.

“No. On the contrary, I can have nearly anything I want.” He smiled flatly. “It’s up to me to exercise control and not take it.”

“You didn’t take anything I wasn’t giving. I’m not afraid to tell you no, Luca. I’ve done it before, I can do it again.” If I want to. The problem was, she didn’t really want to.

His expression shifted into something close to a smile, but his exhalation gave away his annoyance.

“What?” she asked caustically.

“It makes you even more attractive,” he said bluntly. “That toughness inside that angelic persona you project. I find it infinitely fascinating. Which I shouldn’t tell you, but we’re past pretending we’re not attracted to each other. Better to name the beast.”

Was it? Because something ballooned in her chest, cutting off her airways. She really was going to freak out and spill hot coffee all over herself.

“It’s not like we can do anything about it,” she reminded him. “You’re about to publicly tie yourself to another woman.”

His expression shuttered, and he didn’t sound pleased as he said, “True.”

“I think I’ve found a good fit.” Amy forced herself to plow forward.

“Oh?” Luca sat back, projecting skepticism. Reluctance, perhaps?

“She’s an actor.” She leaned forward to set her coffee on the table. “She plays a spy on that cold war series that’s streaming right now. Even if you haven’t seen it, people would believe you might have. It’s very popular, and they film all over Europe so it’s feasible you would have been in the same city at some point. We could say you were introduced by a mutual acquaintance who remains nameless. She’s very pretty.” Amy flicked through her phone for the woman’s image.

Luca took the phone long enough to glance at it before handing it back. “Why didn’t you suggest her yesterday?”

Amy almost said, Because she’s very pretty.

“I don’t know her that well. We met at a club a few weeks ago.” Amy had provided a shoulder while the woman poured her heart out over a man she was having trouble quitting. “I reached out last night with a very superficial mention of a potential ‘unique opportunity.’ She said she’d take a meeting. I’m waiting

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