Page 104 of The Grand Duel

“Could we not have ice cream in Italy?”

He points at the two tubs as if it’s obvious. “But you like Macca’s ice cream.”

I bite my lip, popping the first lid off and finding honeycomb ice cream.

I smile, real and wide, handing it to him. “Yours.”

“For the time being.” He takes the ice cream pot, although his attention, his eyes, and that very slight smile, they all seem to belong to me.

I pop the next lid off with butterflies featherlike in my gut.

Neapolitan.

“It’s eight o’clock in the morning.” I chuckle, my throat tight. “Macca’s doesn’t open until ten.”

“They don’t. It was very expensive ice cream.”

I take a bite, wondering if anyone has ever done anything so thoughtful. “Charles?” I say, not looking up at him.

“Yes, Lissie?”

I purse my lips. “Did you call it a date just now?”

He looks down at me, his face harder now, and then he looks over the top of the seat, cheekbones tainted pink, and says, “Ready when you are, John.”

The flight was two hours and forty minutes, and I slept for two hours and fifteen of it. I didn’t get home from the club until gone three this morning and had to manic pack ready for my five a.m. alarm.

After the moment I had waiting for Charles to get on the plane, I feel a little dead inside.

I consider whether the lack of sleep I’ve had in the past forty-eight hours has anything to do with the memory of my parents.

Charles hasn’t said more than a couple of words to me since landing, guiding me to the car and then typing away on his laptop for the short journey to the hotel.

We’re stood shoulder to shoulder as the concierge pushes our bags into our room when he looks down at me. “Did you have a room added for yourself?” he asks, as if only now considering it.

“The suite has three bedrooms,” I tell him. “Is that okay?”

Relief seems to cool his features. “Of course.”

The hotel is as beautiful as the pictures promised it would be. Newly refurbished and set in the tranquil Positano. The perfect place for Charles to get some rest and recuperation.

“I’m so glad I talked you into this,” I say, smiling at the concierge as he leaves the room. “Isn’t it beautiful.” I lift the drape, letting the sea breeze blow over my chest and face as I peer out at the terrace.

“It sure is,” he says, although when I look at him over my shoulder, he’s looking at me. “I’m going to take your things to one of the rooms. Which would you like?”

“Charles, I’m just here to take notes. You take first pick.” I sigh happily and step through the folding doors.

He disappears for a while, and I make myself comfortable out on the terrace, my eyes still heavy and daring to close completely.

I probably should have tried to get the night off work last night like Charles suggested.

I sink into the lounger at my back, relishing the feel of the afternoon sun on my face.

My eyes are closed when Charles’s voice calls from behind me. “Snoozing again?”

I throw up my middle finger at him over my shoulder, wondering where he’s been and how long my eyes have been closed.

“So very classy, Lissie,” he says, coming to sit beside me on the lounger.