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‘Answer me, Cesare. This...whatever’s going on between us...is it another woman?’ she persisted in that damned husky tone.
Bitter laughter escaped before he could stop it. He poured a tall glass of water and handed it to her. ‘Why do women always think it’s another woman?’
She gazed straight at him. ‘Because men are as predictable as the tide during a full moon.’
‘Would it make it easier if I said it was another woman?’
He didn’t miss the shaft of pain that flitted through her eyes. Her lips wobbled before she pursed them. But her gaze didn’t waver from his. ‘Is it?’
In a way he wished it had been as easy as infidelity. Because infidelity would mean he’d stop caring. Or wanting what he couldn’t have.
‘Turn down the Marinello gig. Return to your commune in Bali. Or take another assignment abroad. Give me the summer with Annabelle. We’ll talk when you return.’
Her eyes flashed rebellious fire at him. ‘No. Annabelle needs me. Besides, too much has happened for me to just up and leave on an assignment. I think deep down you know that.’
He silently conceded the point. The earthquake had changed things between Ava and him just as much as it’d altered his relationship towards his daughter. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, looking at Ava in battle mode he hadn’t witnessed for a long time, he knew in that instant he was screwed.
He gritted his teeth. ‘The foreign minister is a close friend. You didn’t become an Italian citizen when we married. All it would take is a single phone call and I can have you thrown out of the country. Do you realise that?’ He threw out the straw-clutching Hail Mary.
‘Yes,’ she stated simply, not in the least bit cowed. ‘But if I leave I take Annabelle with me.’
Against his will, his eyes strayed to the soft curve of her mouth. It would be as soft and supple as he remembered. Along with the rest of her.
Having her close would drive him crazy.
But the need to have his daughter close—to begin to repair the damage he’d caused outweighed all else. His internal debate lasted milliseconds.
‘Fine. We’ll both stay here for the summer.’
Her mouth dropped open, then her eyes narrowed. ‘That was a little too easy.’
‘Don’t delude yourself, Ava. This isn’t going to be easy for either of us. I know what you want and I can assure you I am unable to give it to you. What I can do is ensure Annabelle isn’t caught in the crossfire of our...situation. You understand?’
She sucked in a ragged breath and Cesare knew he’d got through to her. The late afternoon sun slanting through the windows danced over her fiery hair as she nodded.
Grimly satisfied that his control was under firm guard, he headed for the door, ruthlessly suppressing the old sensations pulling at him, reminding him that his attraction to Ava had always held a fatalistic edge that had excited him.
Doomed him. He’d let it get out of hand the same way he’d let the situation with Roberto and Valentina unravel...
‘So, does that mean you agree to a truce? That you won’t try anything double-crossy somewhere down the line?’
He turned back from the door.
Her eyes reflected a defiance that reluctantly sparked his admiration. None of his family or subordinates would dare press home their advantage this way.
But a line needed to be drawn. ‘That very much depends on you, cara. Your innate inability to not rush in where angels fear to tread could prove your undoing.’
Her lips tightened. ‘Are you calling me a fool?’
‘I’m inviting you to prove me wrong. Stay out of my way for the next six weeks and I’ll have no need to declare war on you.’
* * *
Ava frowned at the closed door, her mind a whirlpool of jumbled thoughts.
She walked over to the French windows and gazed at the sparkling infinity pool. Something was wrong with the picture Cesare was presenting her with.
Even as a newly-wed, she’d realised very quickly that business came first with Cesare. She’d lost count of the times he’d upped and left on a business trip on the strength of a single phone call.
Now, all of a sudden, he’d taken weeks off to spend his summer here.
She wanted to believe that living through a devastating earthquake had changed him...but it was painfully obvious that Cesare was determined to keep her at arm’s length.
Although his attitude towards Annabelle had changed...
Recalling his face when he’d laid their daughter down for her nap, a bittersweet emotion filled her.
If Cesare meant to spend time with Annabelle, Ava welcomed that, although she couldn’t stop the tiniest well of jealousy from rising up.
Pushing the doors open, she stepped onto the terrace. The palazzo baked in the late afternoon sun. Perfumed scents of lemon trees and the specially reared roses the team of gardeners took immense pride in mingled in the air. She inhaled deeply, letting the fragrance suffuse her senses. But the clarity she sought never materialised.
The holiday in Bali had been her last-ditch attempt to reconnect with Cesare. She’d failed spectacularly right from the get-go. That first week, he’d shut himself away in the luxury villa’s study and worked until the early hours of each morning.
On the first morning of their second week, desperate for a break from the overwhelming evidence of her failure, she’d left the villa armed with her camera. She’d been taking pictures of the beautiful local wildlife when the earthquake struck.
Her insides clenched anew at the heart-rending three days they’d searched for Annabelle and Rita.
She shuddered and blinked back the rush of tears. Ironically, she’d felt closer to Cesare in those bleak moments they’d spent ripping apart the marketplace where Rita had been strolling with Annabelle than she’d felt in a long time.
Well, Cesare had been right about one thing...she was a fool.
* * *
The staff had unpacked and folded away her clothes in the master suite on the other side of Annabelle’s room by the time she went upstairs. It took moments to confirm Cesare’s I’ve rearranged a few things didn’t mean he’d moved back into the suite they once shared but rather the one on the other side of Annabelle’s room.
Ava refused to acknowledge the knot in the pit of her stomach and undressed. The sheer gold-coloured muslin curtains that framed the queen-sized bed had been caught up with white velvet rope.
Approaching the bed, she picked up her coffee-coloured kimono-style silk gown and went into the bathroom. Bypassing the sunken marble bath, she entered the shower cubicle. After a refreshing shower, she donned an ankle-length green and white flower-patterned skirt and white top and checked on Annabelle. Finding her still comfortably asleep, Ava slipped her feet into a pair of white thongs, grabbed her laptop and went downstairs.
The aim had been to head to the salone that hugged the western side of the villa and overlooked the stunning gardens. She’d always found that room soothing. But in the hallway she slowed, lingered, unable to stem the flood of memories from washing over her.
Her first time to the Villa di Goia had been on her honeymoon. Two weeks of bliss when they’d only come out of the bedroom to swim in the pool or for Cesare to teach her to waterski on the lake.
He’d wanted to take her somewhere exotic, but for a girl brought up in a dysfunctional working class home, who’d never travelled beyond the shores of England, Lake Como at the end of a hot summer had been exotic enough. And after being carried over the threshold and falling as swiftly and deeply in love with the charming elegance of the Villa di Goia as she had with its owner, she’d had no wish to be anywhere else.
Besotted fool that she’d been.
With an irritated shake of her head, she banished her thoughts. Through the window she caught another glimpse of the sparkling swimming pool and smiled at the thought of Annabelle’s delight when her water-loving child was reunited with her favourite pool.
‘If that’s a smile of victory, I’d caution against being too precipitate,’ a deep drawl sounded from behind her.
Cesare lounged against a Louis XVI credenza that had been in his family for four generations. Above him a portrait of another di Goia, long dead but no less imposing, stared down at her with similar unnerving tawny eyes. How long had the living di Goia stood there, silently watching her take the stupid trip down memory lane?
‘Poor Cesare. I can see my being home fills you with all sorts of unhappy feelings. I get it. But I’m not going into hiding just to please you and I’m certainly not going to stop smiling in case it offends you.’
His smile mocked her. ‘I have no problem with you smiling, cara, I just don’t want you deluding yourself that you’ve won an easy victory.’
‘I wouldn’t dare. But remember your rule goes both ways. I can’t stay out of your way if you insist on straying into mine.’
He straightened and sauntered towards her. ‘Is this where we indulge in the childish game of who was here first?’ he asked.
She shrugged. ‘It’s not childish. I was here first. And, if you must know, I was smiling at the thought of Annabelle being safely home and being surrounded by familiar things.’ Ava caught herself, realising she didn’t owe Cesare any explanation. ‘Anyway, I’ll let you reclaim your domain—’
‘You weren’t just thinking about our daughter. You were reminiscing about us.’ He said it so calmly, so matter-of-factly, Ava felt a shiver race up her spine.
‘You’re wrong.’ The need for denial was visceral.
‘Liar. We may have been apart more than together for most of the past year, Ava, but you’re still as easy to read as an open book.’
‘Then it’s a book whose language you don’t quite fully understand. Because, from where I’m standing, you couldn’t have got things more wrong if you’d tried.’
His jaw clenched, the mocking smile wiped clean. Part of Ava wanted to punch the air in triumph. The other just wanted to weep because if she’d been as open as Cesare claimed, then it meant he’d recognised her heart’s one desire—the need for the comfort of the loving family she’d never had—and he’d still denied her.
‘And, just so we’re clear, my memories are my own. They’re not a subject for your amusement or dissection.’
‘Then learn to hide them better.’
‘Why—do they make you uncomfortable? Would you rather I strip myself of every humanising emotion, like you?’ she challenged and immediately bit her tongue when he tensed. The light pouring through the tall shuttered windows carved his face in taut, almost statue-like relief.
‘You think I’m without emotion, cara?’ he queried so softly the hairs on her arms rose in desperate foreboding.
‘Not where I’m concerned. When it comes to me, you’re as emotional as a plank of wood.’
His eyes narrowed. Almost in slow motion, she watched his hands leave his pockets, reach up and curl around her arms. One slid down, relieved her of her laptop and set it carelessly aside.
‘What are you doing?’ Her question squeaked out as he captured her nape.
He didn’t answer, at least not verbally. The slow burn in his eyes and the steady pressure of his fingers on her skin told its own story. With effortless ease, he pulled her close. Ava actually heard her thonged feet screech across the floor in protest as he dragged her into stinging contact with his body. When he had her close enough, he boldly cupped her bottom.
‘Cesare!’
Electric heat, wicked and powerful, snapped through her, zapping awake her senses with a force so potent she gasped. She should’ve wanted to move away from it. Should’ve worked harder to release herself from the powerful, chaotic destruction.
Instead, she found herself straining up to meet the havoc-causing mouth descending towards hers, pressing herself up against the heat of the rock-hard body.
His mouth slanted over hers, barely stopping to explore before his tongue slid through the parted welcome of her lips.
Somewhere in the outer regions of her mind, she knew she should feel shame for letting him kiss her thoroughly with so little resistance. But the pleasure racing unfettered through her was too heady, too blissful, to deny.
But she tried anyway. ‘No...’
‘Yes, most definitely, yes.’ He tugged her closer.
With a soft moan, her hands settled on his chest. His polo shirt might as well have been non-existent as her hands stole over the hard contours of his muscled flesh.
When they slid around his neck, Cesare groaned. Heat erupted between them; the kiss grew fervent, rough. His tongue slid further inside her mouth, engaging hers in a rough play that made sweet fire rush to the apex of her thighs. Her nipples hardened into painful, rock-hard points. Boldly, she grabbed the hand at her nape and settled it over her breast.
He accepted her gift with a deep groan. One rough thumb grazed back and forth over her nipple, eliciting deep tremors of excitement within her.
If she’d thought distance and indifference would’ve lessened the power of Cesare’s attraction, she was sadly mistaken. If anything, the deep chasm between them had only intensified her need.
She yearned for him with a hunger that deeply terrified her. Knowing she would joyfully have given anything she owned to feel his potent arousal deep inside her should’ve shocked her. Knowing she wanted nothing more than to sink to her knees, free his erection from the confines of his jeans and take him in her mouth the way he’d once loved her to, dismayed her. Yet, even as the thought struck, her hand was moving lower, seeking the silver square of his belt buckle.
When her hand brushed his erection, he jerked, then plunged his tongue deeper into her mouth. His fingers closed around her nipples, squeezed and teased repeatedly until she wanted to die with pleasure.
She grappled harder with the buckle. The more she tried, the more her fingers fumbled. Using both hands, she managed to pull the belt through one hoop. Just then Cesare slid one hand between her legs. She lost the use of her fingers as unrelenting pleasure ricocheted through her. Unerringly, he found her nub of need through her cotton panties. Her breathing grew ragged as she parted her legs to accommodate him.
His buckle forgotten, she grasped his arms to steady herself and drowned in bliss. Reality fogged. Had she just thrown her head back? Was that his tongue sliding over the highly sensitised skin on her neck, drawing her closer to the edge of her endurance?
‘Dio, you’re so hot!’ he rasped.
‘Only because you set me on fire.’ Deep down, she knew that fire would be her undoing. But, for now, she remained blinded to everything but the storm raging within.
The sensation of being lifted registered, then the cool wall touched her back. Cesare increased the pressure of his fingers as his mouth captured one aching nipple. Mercilessly he teased, then his mouth returned to hers to smother her cries as she shuddered and fell headlong into cataclysmic ecstasy.
Slowly, sounds began to impinge as the force of her orgasm abated. Cesare’s scent mingled with the smell of arousal coating the air. Another shudder raked her frame when he withdrew his fingers. As if he knew letting her go would cause her immediate collapse, he wedged one muscled leg firmly between her thighs.
Against her stomach, his arousal burned hot and heavy.
More sounds encroached. She stood, dishevelled, in the hallway of the villa, barely hidden behind a trellised arch. Any member of their household staff could walk past. But Ava didn’t care. She’d just had a sizzling reminder of the potent lovemaking she’d experienced only with Cesare. Her senses had sprung to vivid life, her body readying itself for his fullest possession.
She looked into his face. Torrid heat blazed in eyes that held the look of barely leashed hunger. Her gaze dropped to his lips. The force of her kiss had bruised his lips and the sight of it made her melt with wanting. She reached for his button. ‘Your turn.’
Ava was woefully unprepared for the swiftness with which he clamped strong hands over hers. ‘No.’
CHAPTER THREE
A SHARD OF ice splintered her post-orgasmic haze.
‘You want me. I know you do,’ she blurted, slightly dazed by the thought that he would deny what he felt. The evidence was unmistakable, even through the layers of their clothes.
He stepped away from her, but not far enough, as if he wanted to be close when she collapsed. And certainly her legs were unsteady enough to make that a distinct possibility.
‘This wasn’t about me.’
She looked into his eyes. Slowly his meaning sank in, obliterating her desperate, humiliating desire. ‘You bastard.’
He took another step back. Suddenly the scent of their lovemaking—if she could call it that—nauseated her. Because it was the smell of her weakness.
