Marriage Made of Secrets
Author
Maya Blake
Reads
16,5K
Chapters
13
Chapter One
‘SIGNORA?’
The voice, hesitant but insistent, jerked Ava from deep sleep. Momentarily disoriented, she pushed a swathe of Titian hair off her forehead but the nightmare...that nightmare...clung to the edges of her consciousness.
‘I’m sorry to disturb you but Signore di Goia is on the phone. Again.’ The stewardess, dressed in the emerald silk suit that displayed her employer’s unique insignia, held out the sleek black phone. Ava eyed the phone, the same one she’d been presented with three times since the di Goia jet took off from Bali almost eight hours ago.
Different emotions replaced her irritation, dispersing the last of her dream-fuelled anxiety. The lingering sense of loss, which dogged her whenever she thought of Cesare, rose to mingle with the almost helpless excitement that thoughts of him elicited...
For a few seconds she forgot the heart-rending devastation she’d left behind. Her mind crowded with the forceful presence of the man at the end of the phone. A man who despite being thousands of miles away, had the power to make her breath catch. The man who she knew within the depths of her soul she was losing with every second that passed.
‘Please tell him, again, that I’ll speak to him when we land.’ She needed to conserve every ounce of her strength for what lay ahead.
The stewardess looked bewildered. ‘But...he insists.’ No doubt she’d never encountered another living being who refused to fall at Cesare di Goia’s feet. Especially when that being was currently ensconced in unspeakably sumptuous luxury that barely began to epitomise the mind-boggling scale of the di Goia experience.
All around her, from the deep burgundy leather club chairs, the shiny cream marble tables to the bespoke silk-trimmed cashmere throws that graced every seat on the jet that could easily have carried several dozen passengers, Cesare di Goia’s wealth and influence made itself forcefully blatant.
‘Signora?’ the anxious stewardess pressed.
Guilt for her predicament made Ava reach for the phone.
‘Cesare.’ She held her breath.
‘Now you deign to answer my calls,’ came the deep, tight voice.
‘Why should I take your call when you’ve been avoiding mine for over two weeks now? You told me you’d return to Bali last week.’ The ease with which he’d put her off made her hand tighten on the phone. It was with much the same afterthought that he’d conducted their marriage for the last year.
‘I was delayed in Abu Dhabi. Unavoidably,’ he added tautly.
Unavoidably. How many times had she heard that before? ‘Of course. Was that all?’
An exhalation of ire came down the line. ‘No, that is not all. Explain yourself,’ came the unyielding command.
‘I take it you mean: why have I commandeered your plane?’
‘Sì. This was not the plan.’
‘I know, but my plans have changed too. Unavoidably,’ she replied with a lightness she didn’t feel.
‘In what way have your plans changed?’ he bit out.
‘If you’d bothered to pick up the phone in the last two weeks, I would’ve told you.’
‘We have spoken in the last two weeks—’
‘No, Cesare, you called twice, both times to tell me you were postponing your return...’ Her voice threatened to break as memories flooded her mind—her endless phone calls to Cesare’s assistant to make sure his calendar was kept clear, shopping for the most enticing outfits and making sure the chef at the luxury rented villa in Bali prepared his favourite foods. She’d planned everything to the last detail...all in an effort to save her marriage. Only to have it backfire spectacularly. ‘Anyway, I’m saving you the trouble of making the long trip, or of coming up with another excuse. Goodbye, Cesare.’
‘Ava—’
She pressed the end button, cutting off the growled warning. She’d barely exhaled when the phone rang again. Carefully, she set it down on the table, unanswered.
The stunned look on the stewardess’s face made Ava smile, despite the rush of her thundering pulse. ‘Don’t worry, his bark is worse than his bite.’
The woman coughed out an incoherent sound before hastily retreating to her station at the front of the plane.
With not quite steady hands, Ava poured a glass of water from the crystal-cut jug and took a tiny sip. Yes, Cesare ruled his world with unquestionable domination. But she’d never been one to ask how high? when told to jump, a fact which had, in the past, both intrigued and infuriated Cesare.
The past...before everything had settled into a passive indifference, before Cesare had slowly withdrawn from her, and chosen to stay in Rome more and more instead of at their home in Lake Como. Before the devastation of the South Pacific earthquake had shattered the last of her dreams of salvaging her family.
The decision she’d made so bravely in Bali yesterday now caused a thread of anxiety to weave inside her. Despite her bravado, her legs shook as she pushed aside her throw and padded down the long cream-carpeted aisle of the plane towards the smaller of the two bedrooms.
She turned the door handle.
Annabelle lay fast asleep. Soft light from elegant lamps illuminated her daughter’s raven hair and long limbs splayed on the bed.
Unable to resist, Ava raised the camera slung around her neck and took a few quick shots, grateful for the near-silent clicks of the digital device.
Retreating just as silently, Ava returned to her seat, desperately trying to calm the hordes of steel butterflies trying to beat their way out of her. The last thing she wanted was to return home an emotional wreck. Her grip tightened on the camera.
The past month had been tormenting enough but she needed to be stronger still. She would need to be to stop hiding and face the truth.
Marry in haste...
Her insides twisted in pain and anxiety. Their coming together had been fast and furious. Right from the beginning, things had careened out of control. She’d been swept away by a passion she’d been unable to stem or understand.
But even in that maelstrom of whirlwind dates and mind-bending sex, Cesare had felt like the home she craved, the very essence of the family she’d never really had.
For a time...
This insanity needs to end! Cesare’s heated confession when he’d taken her without mercy one day in a closet during a benefit dinner slammed through her mind.
Ironically, she’d found out she was pregnant with Annabelle the very next day.
And Cesare had begun to withdraw from her.
Shaking her head, she slid up the window screen, let a sliver of morning light warm her cheek, wishing it would also thaw her through. But it was no use. Inside, she felt cold, hard pain.
No. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—let him do this to her. If for no other reason, Annabelle deserved a parent who wasn’t bogged down with acrimony. She deserved a mother who was content, at the very least. The family she’d craved and thought she’d found with Cesare had been a mirage. The sexy, powerfully dynamic man she’d married had changed into a man as coldly indifferent to her as her father had been.
And in her desperate desire to hold onto the illusion of what she’d probably never had, she’d nearly lost her daughter.
Annabelle had been through enough and Ava had no intention of letting her daughter suffer any more rejection.
* * *
‘What the hell do you think you’re playing at?’
Cesare di Goia’s deep, dark-as-sin voice had the power to arrest her in her tracks; as did his impressive, hard-packed six feet two frame. Dressed in a pristine white open-necked polo shirt and black designer jeans that hugged lean hips and disgustingly powerful thighs, he stood tall and proud like any of the hundreds of statues that graced his homeland’s capital city.
His black hair, damp from a recent shower, sprang from his forehead, looking even thicker and longer than when she’d last seen him. And he still said exactly what he thought when he felt like it and to hell with whoever heard him.
Damn him.
‘Frighten the living daylights out of my child, why don’t you?’ Ava invited with soft sarcasm, while trying to calm Annabelle’s sleepy squirming.
Eyes the colour of burnished gold shifted to Annabelle and a small grimace crossed his face. ‘She’s asleep,’ he stated.
‘Not for long if you keep growling like that. She’s been through enough, Cesare. I won’t have her upset.’
Tension radiated off his darkly tanned skin, so palpable she fought not to withdraw from it. ‘Don’t speak as if she’s a stranger to me, Ava. I know exactly what she’s been through.’ His tone was framed almost conversationally but, although his voice had lowered, the fury in his deep tawny eyes had escalated in direct proportion.
‘Forgive me for having to remind you, only you seem to have forgotten. Just as you seem to have forgotten us. Annabelle’s emotions are still fragile, so dial back the hulk-smash attitude if you please. As to what I’m playing at, I thought I’d made myself perfectly clear.’
‘Do you mean that highly informative one-line text that read: We will arrive at 2pm you sent seconds before my plane took off from Bali or the equally cryptic my plans have changed too?’ he accused, making no move to shift his imposing frame from the doorway.
‘Both.’
‘Ava...’ His voice was pure warning.
‘Seriously, are you going to move or do you intend to carry on this conversation on the doorstep? What are you doing here, anyway? You hardly come to the villa any more.’ Another sign of Cesare’s withdrawal she’d ignored for far too long. She stared into his eyes, ignoring the warning that glinted in his narrowed gaze.
‘What I’m doing here doesn’t matter. You were supposed to wait in Bali until Annabelle was given the all-clear. Then I would’ve come for you.’
‘The doctor gave Annabelle the all-clear three days ago.’
Surprise lit his eyes, then he looked beyond her shoulder to the car, his gaze searching. ‘And Rita?’
‘She was having nightmares of the earthquake. Once she was discharged from hospital, I booked her a flight home to London. She’s racked with guilt—she thinks she failed Annabelle because she let go of her when the tremors started...’ Recalling the nanny’s inconsolable distress, a lance of pain—one of many that seemed ever ready to cause damage—went through her. ‘I thought it was easier this way.’
Despite his grim look, Cesare nodded. ‘I’ll make sure she receives the proper treatment and severance package. But you didn’t have to make this journey yet—’
‘No, Cesare. Rita wasn’t the only one who needed the comfort of home. You were supposed to return to Bali two weeks ago, only you were in Singapore, then in New York.’
He shoved a hand through his hair. ‘This isn’t really a good time for us to be doing this.’
‘There hasn’t been a good time for a very long time, Cesare.’ A wave of sadness threatened to drown her but she straightened her spine and stood tall.
Tendrils of hair clung to her neck. Against her bare shoulders, the late afternoon sun singed her skin. If she didn’t get out of the northern Italian sun, she’d be as red as a lobster by morning. ‘We’re home now. You should thank me for saving you the trouble. Now, are you going to deal with it or has being under one roof with us become a problem for you?’
His nostrils flared and his gaze dropped to Annabelle. ‘It isn’t a problem.’
Ava’s grip tightened around her precious bundle. ‘That’s a relief. I’d hate for you to be inconvenienced.’
With Annabelle getting heavier by the second, the weariness of trying to keep a nearly-four-year-old entertained on a twelve-hour plane journey dug bone-deep. But she struggled not to show any weakness as Cesare continued to glare at her, his impressive body blocking the massive oak doorway to the Villa di Goia.
‘Ava, we should’ve discussed this properly—’
‘It’s a good thing I’m not paranoid, Cesare, or I’d think you were trying to avoid me more than usual,’ she snapped. When he didn’t refute the allegation, a shaft of ice pierced her heart. ‘I think you’re right, maybe this isn’t the time to do this. I’ll take Annabelle to my studio for a few hours. Let me know when you leave and we’ll come home.’
She’d barely moved a step when a hand closed over her arm and jerked her back. She landed against hard, lean muscle. The scent that filled her nostrils was pure Cesare. A mixture of sandalwood aftershave and man, it attacked her senses with the force of a spinning hurricane.
‘No. Annabelle stays here with me.’ Tension shimmered from the body plastered against hers.
‘If you think I’m letting her out of my sight after what she’s been through, you’re seriously deluded.’ She tried to pull away. He held on.
Heat spiralled upward, surging through her blood like wildfire. The sensation, familiar yet unexpected, made her stumble. Cesare’s hand tightened, one hand coming to rest gently on Annabelle’s back as he steadied them both.
Pulse hammering, she glanced up. Dark emotion flashed through his eyes, quickly smothered but nevertheless sparking along her every nerve ending. The breath she sucked in felt as dry as the desert. Fresh tingles shot down her spine and she forced a swallow to ease the restriction in her throat as he continued to hold her prisoner.
‘I’ll give you ten minutes to tell me of these new plans of yours, then—’
‘No, this is how it’s going to work. First, I put Annabelle down for her nap. Then we can have a civilised conversation.’
He gave a low, deadly chuckle. ‘Civilised?’ His warm breath brushed her ear, sending heat-filled tremors coursing through her body. ‘Remember how we met, cara?’
Sensation drenched her. Instantly she was wrenched back to their first explosive meeting.
He’d almost run her down at a pedestrian crossing because she’d been distracted by the stunning architecture of a centuries-old building she’d been trying to capture on her camera. The combination of near-death experience and the impact of his stunning looks had made her slam her fists down hard on the sun-baked bonnet of his blood-red Maserati.
His fury as he’d stepped out of his car to examine the damage had swiftly morphed into something even more dangerous, forbiddingly thrilling. ‘We barely exchanged names before we were tearing each other’s clothes off. Dio mio, you lost your virginity to me on the bonnet of my car within hours of us meeting!’
Memory’s flames burned from head to toe. ‘Is there a point to this?’ she rasped.
‘I’m just reminding you that nothing of our time together could ever be described as civilised, so let’s not hang that particular label on it.’
‘Speak for yourself. You might wish to wallow in caveman-like behaviour but I don’t have to stoop to your level.’ Somehow, she would overcome the riotous emotions Cesare engendered in her. For her daughter’s sake.
Again, she pulled away. This time he let her go.
‘Throw a gloss over it if you wish, cara. We both know the truth. When we let it free, our passion is uncontrollable.’
Eyes tracking her like a pitiless bird of prey eyeing a juicy rabbit, he pushed the door open, stood to one side and folded his arms.
For a second she couldn’t move as she was drawn to the play of muscles underneath his shirt. Was it her imagination or were the hairs that peeked through his unbuttoned polo shirt even silkier?
Forcing her gaze away, she crossed the threshold of Lake Como’s most breathtaking palazzo, the place she’d called home for the past four years.
The terracotta exterior with its multi-fountained courtyard, tiered gardens and baking paving stones sharply contrasted with the cool cream interior. High, perfectly preserved stuccoed walls framed vaulted ceilings where discreetly placed conditioners circulated cool air through the rooms.
On either side of the exquisitely trellised archways that fed the hallways leading to the four wings of the villa, tall shuttered windows had been thrown wide open, drenching the room with dazzling light.
A quick glance around was all she allowed herself but it was enough to make her catch her breath all over again. From the exquisite pieces arranged in the hallway to the impressive Renaissance art and family portraits that hung on the walls, the palazzo was still reminiscent of the time when the Villa di Goia had been a renowned museum. The Venetian marble and parquet floors beneath her feet gleamed with the opulent gloss only the super rich could afford.
‘Nothing has changed since you were last here, Ava. I suggest you spend less time admiring the architecture and more time on explaining yourself. You now have eight minutes.’ Tension seethed beneath the veneer of calm he presented.
She breathed in a deep breath and faced him. ‘I suggest you stop the clock watching and help me with Annabelle. Unless you want a cranky child on your hands?’
The faint widening of his eyes was barely distinguishable, but she saw it nonetheless. Had the situation not been fraught with tension, Ava would’ve laughed. As it was, her daughter’s weight seemed to be doubling by the second.
His lips firmed, then he stepped forward and calmly relieved her of her burden.
Ava heard a faint intake of breath as he hitched her close to his chest.
‘She looks well,’ he rasped, his voice a shade deeper.
‘She is. The doctor is happy with her progress,’ she stressed, flexing her arm to relieve the painful stinging needles.
More emotion flashed across Cesare’s face as he continued to gaze at his daughter. Ava didn’t need a crystal ball to divine that he was thinking of the last time he’d held her like this. The indescribable emotions that had gripped them both when they’d finally found her after the earthquake...
He turned abruptly towards the majestic sweep of stairs that led to the upper floors. His long strides made short work of the grand trellised staircase and she had to move quickly to keep up with him.
When he turned towards the east wing, Ava couldn’t hide her surprise. ‘You’ve relocated her bedroom?’ Annabelle’s room had previously been in the west wing.
‘Sì, I’ve rearranged a few things. I wanted her to be close to me when she returned.’ His voice was gruff, irritated, as if he didn’t wish to be questioned. Another dagger of ice pierced her heart. Me, not us.
Following him into the room, Ava bit back a gasp.
The room had been redecorated in Annabelle’s favourite colours of pink and green, complete with canopied bed. Toys of every description a child could want dotted the room but she noticed that the long-maned horses which were Annabelle’s favourite were especially plentiful.
She watched as he gently placed Annabelle on the wide bed and stepped back. He waved her away when she stepped forward to help, and took off Annabelle’s shoes and socks.
Pulling a light sheet over her shoulders, he plucked a stuffed horse off a shelf and laid it in the crook of her arm.
Pain scythed through her. How many times had she wished Cesare would do this when Annabelle was a baby? How many times had she dreamed of him bending down to kiss his daughter’s forehead, murmur buono notte, bambina...?
She managed the pain for a second before he turned from the bed, his gaze slamming into hers.
‘Come. Our daughter’s presence is no longer an issue. Let’s have that talk, shall we?’ With purposeful strides, he headed for the door.
Tension emanated from the broad, set shoulders and, with every click of her heels on the marble floor, her own tension grew. She rubbed sweaty palms on the folds of her long skirt and suppressed the anxiety growing inside her.
She arrived in the living room to find him facing the large floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the lush, perfectly manicured gardens and private mooring that abutted the world-famous lake. The view was so breathtaking, her fingers briefly itched for her camera before she forced herself to focus.
Cesare’s gaze tracked a sleek speedboat skimming across the turquoise water but she knew his mind was locked in the room.
‘You should’ve waited in Bali until I came to collect you, Ava.’ He spoke without turning.
‘I’ve never been good at taking orders without question, you know that. And you didn’t seem to be in a particular hurry to bring us back home.’
‘You had everything you needed.’
‘Yes, the staff you hired for us were highly trained and extremely resourceful. I only had to lift a finger for my every wish to be catered for.’
‘But?’
‘But I’d had enough of being surrounded by complete strangers. It wasn’t good for Annabelle. So here we are,’ she said calmly.
‘You should’ve told me!’
‘What exactly is the problem here? Are you angry that I wanted to come home or annoyed that I dared to question your authority?’
He inhaled sharply. ‘A lot has changed—’
‘I’m very much aware of that. Staying away wasn’t going to make it any better.’
‘So why return earlier than we planned?’ he enquired.
‘Because this isn’t just about you, Cesare. Life goes on and I need to make sure Annabelle returns to normal as quickly as possible. Besides, when I told you my plans had changed, I meant it. I’ve been contracted to cover the Marinello wedding.’
He frowned. ‘You’re an award-winning documentary photographer. When did you branch into covering celebrity weddings?’
‘Annabelle needs to be around the familiar for the foreseeable future. I’m not taking her on assignment to the far reaches of the planet. She needs me to be here.’
His jaw tightened. ‘The Marinello wedding is turning into a media circus. I won’t have Annabelle exposed to that sort of environment.’
‘I’ve never let my work disrupt her life in any way. It definitely won’t this time round.’
‘You didn’t think to inform me of this Marinello thing before now?’
‘Just take it as the side effect of my aversion to being abandoned.’
‘You weren’t abandoned. Annabelle needed medical care and she couldn’t travel before then.’
‘Yes, but that stay wasn’t indefinite. Although I’m beginning to suspect maybe that’s what you had in mind.’
‘It wasn’t. I agree that Annabelle needs to be home, but not...’ He paused.
The cold grip on her spine intensified. ‘Not your wife?’ When he refused to reply, she let out a shaky breath. ‘You don’t have to say it, Cesare.’ Her smile cracked around the edges. ‘Annabelle’s welfare is my priority right now. As long as she remains okay, you can go back to being indifferent to me. Or go back to Rome.’
A dangerous gleam flashed through his eyes. He balled his fists, his nostrils flaring. For a very long time he didn’t speak. The air crackled with each charged heartbeat. Finally, he rasped, ‘I’m staying here for the summer.’
Her heart skipped a beat, then immediately fell when she read the displeasure on his face. ‘Then this is going to be very awkward for one of us.’
‘I don’t want you here. Not right now.’
The blunt words stung deep.
‘Why not?’
‘I’m in the middle of...’ He stopped and shoved a hand through his hair. ‘We both know things haven’t been right between us for a while. But I can’t be...distracted by anything right now.’
She pulled in a shaky breath and reminded herself why she was doing this. She set her bag down on the coffee table in the middle of the room. ‘The state of your marriage is an inconvenient distraction?’
A nerve pulsed in his jaw. ‘Especially the state of our marriage. If you’d stayed in Bali—’
‘I didn’t. You like to control people and things around you but I’m not one of them. This is your home as much as it is mine so I can’t exactly throw you out. So you’ll just have to tolerate my presence here, just like you have to tolerate your daughter.’
‘Tolerate her? I’m her father.’
‘Trust me, I know a thing or two about being tolerated. I don’t think you’d want your performance as a father or husband to be rated. You wouldn’t like the results.’
His colour receded a little beneath his vibrant tan and the room seemed to darken with turbulent forces. She watched him visibly swallow. ‘If you want the civilised conversation you claim to want, I’d advise you to tread carefully, Ava. What is happening between us will not affect our daughter.’
She tried to stop the pain from biting deep. Selecting a seat as far away from his forceful presence as possible, she sat down.
‘That’s one thing we can agree on, at least. I suggest we set up a schedule. You spend time with her in the mornings while I meet with my clients; I’ll take over in the afternoons. As long as she’s happy, I need not interfere in...whatever it is you think I’m interrupting.’
He gave a harsh laugh. ‘You’re as non-interfering as a bull in a china shop.’
‘Only when I need to be.’ Like when confronted with an icily cold, angry, astoundingly gorgeous Italian male who threw out commands like they were sweets at a kids’ party. Or when you grew up isolated in a house ruled by a distant father who treated you as if you were invisible and brothers who were more than happy to emulate their father. ‘Sometimes it’s the only way people take notice of you.’
‘Is that why you’ve returned so suddenly? You want me to take notice of you?’ he enquired with disquieting softness.
That voice, that precise, perfectly pitched cadence, bathed her skin in goose bumps that had nothing to do with pain and everything to do with unwanted memories. It threatened to dominate her senses. Forcing them away took much more effort than she was happy with. ‘I’m here because my daughter needs to be home.’
Another dangerous gleam darkened his eyes. ‘Our daughter. She’s as much mine as she is yours, Ava.’
She stormed to her feet. ‘Really? You’ve barely seen her in the past year. You choose to stay in Rome and make one excuse after another as to why you don’t come home any more. So what are you doing here, really? What’s changed? What’s prompted this sudden yearning to play papà?’
A peculiar look crossed his face, too quick for her to assess its meaning. ‘She’s my daughter. My blood. There was never any question that I’d resume my parental rights.’
‘Resume! You can’t press pause on parenting every time you feel like it. So what, now you’ve suddenly found time to slot her into your schedule? For how long? What if another deal suddenly crops up in Abu Dhabi or Doha or Outer Mongolia? You’ll press pause again and fly off in pursuit of your next venture?’
A frown darkened his brow. ‘You think I’ll abandon Annabelle for a business deal?’
‘Oh, don’t act so annoyed. How many times did you leave me to jet off to parts unknown when another too-good-to-miss deal cropped up?’
He waved her away like a troublesome fly. ‘That was different.’
The uncaring delivery of his words stole her breath. ‘You expect me to think things will change because we’re talking about your daughter now instead of your wife? When you didn’t have any trouble choosing business over returning to bring her from Bali?’
Ava had spent far too much time torturing herself with the whys. What she needed was to concern herself less with the why? and more with the why now? Cesare never made a move without calculating at least a dozen steps ahead. Which made his sudden decision to summer at Lake Como and demand to have his daughter all the more suspect.
Dangerously suspect.
‘Things have changed, Ava.’
‘Enlighten me, then. How exactly have things changed?’
His gaze slid away. ‘The earthquake was an eye-opener for us all, I won’t deny it. I agree that Annabelle needs the safe and familiar around her right now. Both our jobs are very demanding. If something unavoidable comes up, she’ll be adequately cared for. Lucia will step in for now until I can hire another nanny. Between them, she’ll be cared for around the clock.’
She sucked in a breath. ‘Lord, you have the nerve to say the earthquake was an eye-opener but in the next breath you admit you’d happily abandon your daughter when the lure of a business deal proves too much!’
His stare turned icier. ‘I’ll make time for her as much as possible, but my work doesn’t stop just because it’s the summer vacation. I can’t just abandon it.’
‘Of course you can’t. I’m not even sure why I’m surprised. Cesare di Goia, venture capitalist with the Midas touch, hasn’t changed one iota, has he—?’
‘Annabelle turns four in a few weeks.’
Thrown by the sudden turn of the conversation, she frowned. ‘Yes, I’m very much aware of that. I’ve made plans.’
He glanced at his sleek silver watch. ‘But if you’re covering the Marinello wedding, you’ll need to be in Tuscany for the next three weeks.’
‘I see you’re well informed.’
He shrugged. ‘For some reason, Agata Marinello seems to think I need updating on every detail of her son’s wedding arrangements.’
‘You’re the guest of honour and your company is bankrolling Reynaldo Marinello’s reality show. You don’t need a crystal ball to suss why she wants to stay on your sweet side. Besides, I think all the guests receive email and social media updates.’
‘Which is exactly why I’ve blocked her messages as of this morning.’ A look of impatience crossed his face. ‘I haven’t even officially accepted the wedding invitation yet. Not with everything that’s going on—’ He stopped and shook his head. ‘I’ll ask for the jet to be refuelled. Paolo will deliver you to the airport within the hour to take you to Tuscany. Annabelle will remain here with me. When you’re done with the wedding, we’ll talk.’ He started to cross the room towards the house intercom.
Feigning ease she didn’t feel, she settled back in her chair and took her time to cross her legs. ‘I see you’re all about minimising your carbon footprint.’
He paused mid-stride. ‘You know my line of work necessitates the use of a private jet. If I didn’t, I’d suffer permanently from jet lag.’
‘Yes, I’m sure all the environmental charities would love that explanation.’ She’d aimed for spiky snark intended to win her further ground. Instead her reply faltered as her treacherous mind conjured up the very effective means by which Cesare conquered jetlag—the enormous king-size bed in the larger, chrome and grey bedroom of his Gulfstream. The silky satin sheets, the soft, decadent pillows...the en suite made-for-two shower...her intensely erotic initiation into the mile-high club...
She tried to stare him down, but heat slowly crawled up her neck, stung her cheeks. She knew her pale skin had given her away when a small knowing smile whispered over his lips.
‘I’m sure they’ll allow me this small concession given my support of their other eco-saving efforts. Now, if you’ve finished berating me, I’ll instruct Lucia to provide you with some refreshments before you leave.’ He walked towards the villa’s intercom next to the extensive drinks cabinet and lifted the receiver.
Any lingering arousal fled as his statement sank in.
‘The Marinellos changed their wedding venue three days ago—the official stance is a termite infestation at their Tuscany villa but I’m guessing your being here has something to do with the wedding’s relocation to Lake Como.’ She shrugged at his frown. ‘I’m meeting with them tomorrow afternoon to discuss staging and the pre-wedding catalogue. But even that notwithstanding, I don’t think you’ve quite grasped what I’m trying to tell you. Annabelle and I are a package deal, Cesare. Where I go, she goes.’
Slowly—excruciatingly slowly—he replaced the handset. Ava’s heart thumped so hard against her ribs she feared the organ would expire from overuse.
‘I warn you against rocking the boat, Ava. This isn’t really the time to bring things to a head between us.’ His voice was soft but edged in steel.
‘And maybe you need to give up this false pretence of trying to play papà, return to Rome and just let us be.’
He lounged against the wall, sliding long fingers into his pockets in a display of utter calm. But she wasn’t fooled. The lazy way his gaze raked her from head to toe only served to raise her hackles, along with her pulse rate.
Warning shrieked in her head. Cesare was most dangerous at his calmest. He hadn’t built a globally successful venture capitalist company without being extremely calculating and ruthless where he needed to be.
He shrugged amiably, as if they were discussing which entrée to have. ‘No, you’re right. On second thoughts, maybe this is just what we need.’
A thread of trepidation unfurled in the pit of her stomach. ‘And what exactly is this?’
‘To have this marriage brought under the scrutiny it deserves,’ he delivered. ‘For us to stop avoiding the fact that this marriage is anything but a sham. Maybe once we face facts, I can get round to discussing the more important issue of custody of my daughter.’
Her laughter was so strained it scraped her throat. ‘And you think when that happens I’d allow you anywhere near Annabelle?’ It didn’t click that she’d surged to her feet, that she’d bridged the gap between them, until her forefinger jabbed his chest. ‘You really think any judge on earth would grant custody to a less than part-time father who’s abandoned his daughter for most of her life?’
