Simone went to stand next to him. “Why am I here?”
He turned to her. The dark shadows under his eyes were somehow more accentuated in the play of lamplight than in the bright sunshine. “Let’s talk somewhere else.”
“Where do you suggest? The guests are bound to arrive soon and you know we can’t walk around by ourselves after dark.”
“Come to my room.”
She inhaled sharply, her hands clenching into fists. “Is that why I’m here? Do you really think–”
With a soft groan, Carlo curled his fingers around her arm and pulled her onto the deck, away from the other people sitting in the lounge. “To your room then,” he whispered, “although I much prefer mine. And no scenes, if you please.” His hand was a ring of fire around her arm, propelling her to the wooden walkway.
He walked next to her but let go of her arm.
A few steps from her tent she stopped. “I don’t care who hears this. If you think we’re going to carry on where we left off four years ago you are very much mistaken.”
He didn’t blink an eye. “You seem to be singularly one-track-minded, Simone.”
Heat rose to her cheeks; it spread down her chest to her treacherous heart, which pounded at the thought of him. Why was he still able to do this to her? Being alone with him was the worst possible idea.
“Well, if not for that, why march me to my tent as if you would have your way–”
“You may still be devilishly tempting, Simone, but now that I’m your boss you’re completely off limits.”