No Strings Attached

Chapter Thirteen

“I’ve always wanted to go to Milan,” she gushed in the seat next to him on the aeroplane, radiating a nervous energy as her foot bounced agitatedly on the floor.

He smiled affectionately at her anticipation – she looked like a kid at Christmas, her face was just lit up beneath the dim lighting on the air craft.

It had taken four hours to get everything in order, and then another two waiting in the terminal to board, so that dusk was descending around them nicely, and faint shards of moonlight were running across her delicate features as she looked out of the window in absolute awe, watching the distant lights a thousand feet beneath them. They’d decided to stay until Wednesday, leaving them two nights in Milan, which was all that he could really spare from his schedule. Apparently, he had a few imperative things to sort by the end of the week, but Shannon didn’t think to ask what.

She’d typed out a quick text to Rory on her way to the airport, careful not to let Nate know. She’d not exactly lied about him staying with her, but Rory’s disappearing act had made it easier, and Nate hadn’t given a thought to it.

She really didn’t want to rock the boat, not just yet, so she’d carried on skirting the issue, and Nate hadn’t pressed it.

“I know you have,” he said smugly, reaching for her hand and entwining their fingers, “Why do you think we’re going? I don’t even like Espresso!”

“You’re such an old Grouch,” she giggled, “There’s more to Milan than coffee! Besides, I’ve seen you drink it before!”

“Americano,” he grumbled, “And I’ll only tolerate that when I watch how these little fashionistas can’t make a brew. I’m not paying good money for that dishwater!”

For the rest of the plane journey, she curled into his side in comfortable silence – just watching the sky from the window with a Cosmopolitan in hand (first class really did have its perks!).

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The hotel that he took her to was literally steps away from the piazza del duomo – an incredible array of architectural perfection, towered by the white marble cathedral. She’d only ever read about it in the magazines – sighed wistfully over the flat photographs. How he knew to bring her here – to this particular cultural landmark – to this one place she’d dreamt of since she first stepped foot in the industry, she didn’t have a clue.

She didn’t argue though, as she followed his lead into The Gray. The hotel was a wonderland for her untrained yet incredibly creative eyes, and each simple feature seemed to lend itself to a brand new world of design possibilities – even the door handles became vibrant sculptures – live and inviting when they were set against the cosmopolitan sleek lines, and the vast expanse of glass that cloaked one wing of the building.

The only downfall as far as she was concerned was the beautiful young girl on the reception desk. The dark-haired beauty whose sultry green eyes lingered on Nate’s full lips as he spoke. The pale blue shirt that he wore was strained across his heavy muscular frame – Shannon could almost make out the stark ridges in his six pack as the material dropped shadows over the indentations,  and the dark ink bled through the thin cotton to accentuate his broad chest, and it seemed that the other woman had seen it also – and wasn’t entirely immune to it.