After the confetti settles…

It takes an earthquake for billionaire businessman Cesare di Goia to realize what’s important in life. His wife may have become a stranger, but he’s determined to keep his young daughter close.

Returning to the luxurious Lake Como palazzo with her daughter, Ava di Goia feels like an outsider in what was once their home. Although the bond between them is still undeniable, the memories, tarnished rings and broken promises make it clear that the secrets that drove them apart are still unresolved.…

‘You think I’m without emotion, cara?’ Cesare queried 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 Ava watched his hands leave his pockets, reach up and curl around her arms.

‘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.

‘Cesare!’

Electric heat, wicked and powerful, snapped through her, zapping awake her senses with a force so potent she gasped. She should want to move away from it. Should work 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.

MAYA BLAKE fell in love with the world of the alpha male and the strong, aspirational heroine when she borrowed her sister’s Mills & Boon® at age thirteen. Shortly thereafter the dream to plot a happy ending for her own characters was born. Writing for Harlequin Mills & Boon is a dream come true. Maya lives in South East England with her husband and two kids. Reading is an absolute passion, but when she isn’t lost in a book she likes to swim, cycle, travel and Tweet!

You can get in touch with her via e-mail

at mayablake@ymail.com, or on Twitter:

www.twitter.com/mayablake

Recent titles by the same author:

THE SINFUL ART OF REVENGE

THE PRICE OF SUCCESS

Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

Marriage Made of Secrets

Maya Blake

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

EPILOGUE

EXCERPT

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?’

CHAPTER TWO

CESARE FLINCHED, THE sting of her words like whips lacerating his skin; the stab of her finger pierced like a knife in his chest. Raw pain pounded with every heartbeat as Ava’s words barrelled into him.

He’d abandoned her.

When his daughter had needed him most, he’d failed her. He’d been unable to protect Annabelle...

Dark torment crept in, threatening to drown him every time he thought of what he’d let happen. He’d been too quick to believe...too swift to embrace his destiny.

And in choosing that path, he’d done the unforgivable.

The heart he thought had withered to nothing clenched hard. But within that torment, within the potent swirl of guilt and recrimination, a different emotion crept in.

Excitement. The guilt and recrimination were ever present, but alongside it a flood of hot excitement stole over his senses, awakening that treacherous desire he thought he’d slain a long time ago.

With every ounce of control he possessed, he tried to push it away, but like a drowning victim accepting the inevitable, he let it close in on him, submerge him deeper in its relentless maelstrom.

Dio, he felt...alive; from her single touch, he felt more alive than he had in a very long time. More than he deserved to feel after what he’d done.

Ava’s finger jabbed him again, but all he could think, could feel, was how much cleaner the air smelled—richer, bringing a clarity that had eluded him for a long time.

‘From the moment she was born, you abandoned her.’ Her rough, pain-racked whisper stabbed deeper than if she’d shouted. ‘And the day of the earthquake, you were supposed to spend time with her; instead you were on a conference call! You palmed her off on Rita—’

He wrenched back control and sucked in a breath. ‘The minute I knew what was happening, I went in search of her. We both did. We tore apart that Bali marketplace with our bare hands.’ Until they’d bled both inside and out.

Her hand dropped and she shook her head. ‘Do you know how it feels to know neither of us were with her when the earthquake hit?’ she whispered in anguish.

The thought tortured him day and night. ‘Sì, I know. I’ve lived with that horror every day since. I know how very easily we could’ve lost her. But I also thank God she was found.’ Someone else had dug his daughter out of the submerged marketplace. Someone else had cared for Annabelle, taken her to the hospital and taken the time to put her photograph on the missing person’s wall. ‘We may not have found her ourselves but she was found,’ he repeated. ‘She was all right. She was alive.’ Somehow, miraculously, his daughter had survived the devastating earthquake that had killed tens of thousands.

And, for as long as he lived, he intended to make sure his daughter never came to harm again.

‘She was all right,’ she repeated numbly. ‘So you just thought you’d carry on being emotionally unavailable to her again?’ Her words were hushed, but the pain behind them ripped through the silence.

Icy calm slowly built inside him, pushing aside his pain. Cesare welcomed it. ‘I was there, Ava.’

Her face hardened and she folded her arms around her ribcage. ‘You mean just like you’re here now? In the same room but wishing you were somewhere else?’

His jaw tightened. Ava would never know how difficult it had been to keep from roaring his gut-ripping pain when he’d believed Annabelle was lost to him. She thought him cold. But he’d had to be, he’d had to shut off his emotions, to shut off any hint of yearning for what he couldn’t have.

Except for Annabelle.

His daughter was the one thing he wasn’t prepared to give up.

It’d taken him years to finally heed the warning he’d blindly ignored. To accept that he had no business taking a wife, never mind fathering a child.

He might be astute when it came to business but his personal relationships had always come at a price. A very steep price, he’d come to realise.

‘And now you’ve decided you want your daughter you think you can just click your fingers to make it happen?’

‘It was always going to happen. I’m sorry if you believed otherwise.’ The horrendous events of the past few weeks had painfully brought home to him that Annabelle was the only child he’d ever have. And now she was here—albeit earlier than he’d anticipated—he had no intention of letting her go.

‘Your arrogance is astounding, you know that?’

‘Isn’t it one of the things about me that turns you on?’ He had the fleeting satisfaction of watching colour surge under her skin. Anger soon replaced her blush.

‘Dream on. Your attraction level has dropped lower than the temperatures in the Antarctic.’

His fiery moglie had the tendency to lash out first and think about the consequences later. Wasn’t that what had drawn him to her in the first place? Her vibrancy? Her blind, uncontrollable passion for life?

He sidestepped that reminder.

With a swish of her brightly coloured skirt, she stalked to the window. Cesare caught himself following the sway of her hips and reined himself in. Things were fast getting out of hand.

Again.

Their first meeting had been a heady, mind-blowing experience. She’d been a potion to end all sweet potions, lighting up his days, blazing through his nights like a spectacular comet. Against his every instinct, he’d let his guard down.

Once again he’d let a woman get under his skin. Something he’d sworn to himself and to his brother, Roberto, he’d never let happen again.

Cesare had walked out of his last meeting in Abu Dhabi the minute he’d learned Ava had summoned his plane. He’d even contemplated ordering his pilot to return her to Bali. But he’d known she would’ve found another way of achieving her goal.

She turned, arms folded in battle stance. He suppressed a grim smile. His Ava hadn’t changed. Corner her and the fierce lioness emerged.

Except she wasn’t his. He never should’ve taken her in the first place—although the exhilaration of being her first lover still made his blood pump faster—never should’ve placed the di Goia emerald on her finger...

His gaze fell to her bare fingers. ‘Where is your wedding ring?’ The burning need to know erased every other thought from his head.

Surprise widened eyes the same colour as the famous di Goia family heirloom. ‘My wedding ring?’ she echoed.

‘Sì. Where is it?’

‘In a box...somewhere. What does it matter?’ she challenged.

Cesare had the completely irrational urge to grab her arms and shake her, demand to know why the ring wasn’t on her finger. Instead, he jammed his fists into his pockets and forced himself to stay put.

‘Just checking that you hadn’t donated it to the commune you were growing fond of in Bali.’

Her arms tightened. ‘I’m glad to see you think so highly of me, Cesare. And I don’t need to pawn your jewellery off to help the causes I believe in. I’m more than well compensated for my job to fund my charitable endeavours.’

Did she realise how gripping her arms so tightly pushed her breasts up, so they looked even fuller, more tempting? The faint outline of her areolas against the white of her cotton halter top and the faint freckles marching across her chest sent the pulse kicking in his groin.

‘Do you have a lover?’

Dio, where the hell had that come from? He raked unsteady fingers through his hair, the sheer astonishment his question caused clearly reflected in the slack-jawed look on Ava’s face. But then was it really that astonishing? They’d spent so much time apart in the past year, he didn’t even know which circle of friends she moved in these days.

Whose fault is that?

Her hand fluttered to her neck, crept around to her nape and flipped her flaming hair over one shoulder. He followed the movement, his fascination with the ripple of sunlight through the long tresses causing him to tense further.

‘Don’t you dare go there with me, Cesare,’ she snapped.

Her non-answer made jealousy sear his insides. He’d distanced himself from her. She should be free to take other lovers. So why did his gut clench in sharp rejection of the idea?

‘Why? Did the commune make you sign an oath of secrecy?’

‘It wasn’t a commune. And the people there are—’

‘Eat, pray, love advocates?’

‘No, believe it or not, they’re professionals who’ve given up their time to help better the lives of others, especially the victims of the earthquake.’

‘In the hope of finding themselves in the process?’

Her lips firmed. ‘We can’t all find ourselves in the next multi-billion euro deal, Cesare. Why did you abandon your daughter?’

He gripped his nape, renewed tension clawing through him. ‘I thought it was better that I stay away. If it makes you feel better, call it an error of judgement on my part and leave it be.’

The understatement of the millennia. Marriage to Ava, Dio, to any woman, had never been on the cards for him. Not after what he’d put Roberto through. Not after Valentina...

In some ways, while he regretted the devastation it had wrought on countless lives, the earthquake had been his wake up call. His head had been wrenched violently from the sand. And now he had the rest of his life to made amends to his daughter.

‘An error of judgement?’ Ava shot back immediately, like a damned terrier intent on ravaging its favourite toy. ‘Does that include our marriage?’ she demanded.

Ignoring her, he strode to the drinks cabinet, curbing the urge to pour something stiff and bracing. He’d drunk himself into a stupor more than once this past year. He couldn’t afford to do so now. He needed to stay focused on the female who prowled restlessly behind him.

‘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.

‘You wanted to humiliate me,’ she said.

‘I merely wanted to prove a point. Passion is an emotion, cara, one I relish in the right circumstances. But I choose not to let it rule my life.’

She lowered her eyes, chagrin eating like acid through her at how easily she’d fallen for his ploy. ‘You mean I let it rule mine?’ She wanted to slink away in shame, but she was damned if she’d give him the satisfaction.

‘I’ve just demonstrated that this is so.’

‘Wow, so that display was all for me? Well, I hope you’re proud of yourself.’

He stepped closer and slowly passed a finger over her swollen lip. ‘Sì, I am. And it’s good to know I can still reduce you to putty.’ His tone reeked smugness.

She didn’t rise to the bait. They both knew he’d won this round. She straightened her clothes. ‘Sure, you can dominate me with the sheer force of your sexual prowess. The orgasm you gave me just now? Out of this world. I’m a red-blooded female after all. But you’ve also proved that you’re so cold-hearted you can control your life to the point where nothing touches you unless you want it to. So pardon me if I don’t wholeheartedly buy your reasons for being here.’

He let go of her as if she’d suddenly developed a contagious disease. For a moment he looked almost...disarmed. But she didn’t feel victory, just an emptiness that grew larger with each passing second.

‘You’re trying to rile me.’ The face of the man who regarded her wasn’t the Cesare who’d kissed her senseless moments ago, whose heart she’d felt beating unsteadily against her own. This was Cesare back in control, the master in complete command of his world.

‘I’m speaking the truth. Deal with it.’

‘It seriously terrifies me how prone to recklessness you can be.’ With cool poise, he reached down and picked up her laptop. ‘If you want to maintain that truce, I think we need to establish some ground rules. Come.’

Without waiting for her agreement, he strode off in the direction of his study.

By the time she found enough strength to straighten away from the wall and follow, he’d disappeared.

She found him seated behind his massive antique desk, his fingers steepled against his mouth. If he’d been any other man, she would’ve suspected he was hiding behind the desk to avoid her. But Cesare was no ordinary man.

He’d just proven catastrophically and conclusively that he could turn her brainless with desire, ride through the storm of passion with her, and emerge unscathed.

‘If you’re going to dissect what just happened—’

‘What happened just now doesn’t need dissection,’ he said, cutting across her. ‘But I do want to discuss Annabelle and the impact our being together will have on her.’

She frowned. ‘Why should it impact on her?’

He ignored her question. ‘How did she take Rita leaving? I know they were close.’ His gaze bored into her with the force of a laser drill.

‘She was distressed, of course, but—’

‘You also said she’s a bit more sensitive than she used to be.’

Her hackles rose. ‘And you think this is in some way my fault?’

He exhaled. ‘I’m not laying blame, Ava. I’m just trying to find the best way to settle her without causing her any more upset.’

‘She’s back home where she belongs, and I’ll be with her every day. A loving family is what she needs.’

Tawny eyes hardened a touch. ‘You’ll be working some of the time.’ His gaze strayed to her laptop, which now sat on his desk. ‘You cut back on your work when we got married. Why the sudden return to full-time work?’

‘Because I found out that playing the role of neglected wife isn’t all that challenging—I could do it with my eyes closed, in fact. I needed something more.’

‘Is that supposed to be some sort of statement?’ he asked.

‘You’re the genius. Work it out.’

‘You’re my wife, Ava, and therefore my responsibility—’

‘Isn’t that a mere technicality?’ She ignored his icy glare. ‘You can’t have it both ways, Cesare. We’ve been drifting apart almost from the moment Annabelle was born. Hell, we’ve barely lived together for the last year. Calling me your wife when it suits you or as a means of salving your conscience—what there is of it—is disingenuous. Your career has always been your first priority so don’t you dare question my dedication to mine. You can continue to provide for your daughter, but I can more than take care of myself financially.’

‘Nice speech. Although I see you didn’t hesitate to make use of my jet when you needed it. You can’t have it both ways either, cara. While we live under the same roof you’re my responsibility and we both do what’s best for Annabelle. We share all meal times with our daughter. And at all times we present a united front.’

‘To show her Mummy and Papà don’t hate each other?’ she threw at him.

His mocking smile displayed perfectly formed white teeth. ‘Her Mummy and Papà don’t hate each other. I think I proved that conclusively just now.’

A residual post-orgasmic shiver raked her insides at the reminder. ‘Sexual desire without a solid foundation fizzles out eventually, Cesare.’

One dark eyebrow tilted upward. ‘Is this another enlightened nugget you were fed in your commune or did you conduct a personal study?’

‘I don’t need a study to tell me that it won’t be long before Annabelle starts asking probing questions. She’s beginning to notice that her kindergarten friends have mummies and daddies who live together. Last month, before we left for Bali, she asked me why you don’t live with us. Those are the easy questions, so prepare yourself for the tough questions because they’re just around the corner.’

With the swiftness of a flash flood, the smile disappeared and a veil descended over his bronze features. Before her eyes, he withdrew behind a veneer of cool indifference. ‘Many couples live apart. When the time is right, we will explain things to her.’

‘I can’t wait because I’d quite like some answers myself. For instance, why are you wearing your wedding ring again? You weren’t last month.’

He glanced at the simple gold band on his finger, a peculiar look crossing his features. It dissipated so quickly she almost missed it. But its haunting quality lodged a stone in her chest.

Before she could question it, his desk phone rang. His gaze flicked over her as he reached for it. ‘I’ve arranged for dinner to be served earlier tonight, at six-thirty, for Annabelle’s sake. We’ll decide then on the best routine for all of us going forward.’

For an insane second, she wanted to rip the phone out of his hands, chuck it through the window and demand he answer her questions. But he’d already swung his leather seat towards the window, shutting her out as if she’d ceased to exist for him.

She grabbed her laptop and marched from the room before the temptation to smash it over his head overcame her.

A headache niggled at her temples. Although tempted to blame it on the effects of travelling through several time zones, she knew Cesare was the reason for it.

From the start, he’d imprinted himself so indelibly on her psyche that it had seemed as if Fate herself had willed it so. Even now, she only had to see him to feel a part of her unravelling, for her insides to weaken.

She hated herself for those weak moments almost as much as she hated herself for what she’d let happen in the hallway. It’d only taken a handful of minutes for him to reduce her from a sane, rational woman to a heap of shuddering wantonness. And for him to gloat about it.

She entered the salone, walked past the sumptuous green and white overstuffed chairs and whitewashed tables and chose her favourite seat—an elegantly carved chaise longue facing the breathtaking view of the lake.

After switching on her laptop, she resolutely fished out her iPod and stuck the earphones on in the hope that the music would drown out the sinking realisation that she only had to think about Cesare for him to take a hold of her mind and, it seemed, her body.

Clicking on the application she needed, she read over the list of locations she needed to visit and typed up a suitable schedule and the cameras she would require.

Reynaldo Marinello and Tina Sanchez were the Posh and Becks of Italy. The renowned footballer’s engagement to his pop-star girlfriend six months ago had sparked a media frenzy, which Ava normally tried to avoid.

Witnessing the post-earthquake devastation in Bali, however, had sparked a need to raise awareness and money for disaster-stricken areas through her photography—which meant she couldn’t afford to turn down lucrative assignments like these.

The Marinello pre-wedding catalogue would entail photographing various members of the prestigious Marinello family around the Lake Como area, with special emphasis on the bride and groom. Mind-numbing work, but if it enabled her to stay close to Annabelle she didn’t mind one little bit.

Almost an hour later, Ava removed her earphones as a maid entered with a tray that held a tall pitcher of homemade lemonade and pastries. On her heels, Cesare strode in, carrying a wide-awake Annabelle, who in turn clutched a bright red toy horse with flowing mane.

‘Mummy, Papà woke me up,’ her daughter said. ‘I had a bad dream.’

Irrational guilt sparked as Cesare’s cool gaze met hers.

‘She tells me she has bad dreams sometimes. You didn’t tell me about them,’ he said almost conversationally, but she didn’t miss the steely undertone.

‘The doctor said it was to be expected, after her trauma.’

‘Look, Mummy, I have a pretty horsey.’ Annabelle’s demand helped her tear her gaze from Cesare’s accusatory stare.

‘I can see that. It’s gorgeous.’ She tried to keep her voice light.

‘Papà got it specially for me.’ Her daughter’s wary gaze darted to her father. At his smile, hers widened a touch.

‘You’re a lucky little girl,’ said Ava. Her laptop trilled as it shut down.

Cesare’s gaze zeroed in on it and she was mildly surprised the machine didn’t incinerate under the laser beam of his disapproval.

Shoving it aside, she stood. Cesare’s scent, coupled with the freshly washed smell from her daughter, caused an intense pang of pain to dart through her.

Hastily, she stepped back and busied herself with pouring drinks, refusing to let her mind flash back to the hallway incident. Annabelle gulped her drink down and immediately jumped down again, ready to reacquaint herself with her home.

‘I asked if there was anything else I should know. You didn’t think I needed to know about her nightmares?’ he rasped fiercely.

Ava bit her lip. ‘They started last week, after I sent Rita home. She calms down when she knows I’m nearby.’

Cesare swore fluently under his breath. ‘I needed to know, Ava.’

She nodded. ‘This was why I wanted to come back. She’s always been happier here.’

His jaw clamped so tight a pulse kicked in his temple. ‘You will tell me everything, no matter how small or insignificant. Agreed?’

The power behind his words rocked her to the core. From near total distance to this fierce protectiveness of Annabelle made her reel. That she had a destructive force of nature to thank tightened chaotic knots in her stomach. ‘Agreed.’

After several seconds, he relaxed.

‘So,’ Cesare drawled, his gaze following Annabelle, who’d picked up Ava’s iPod, inserted one earphone and was now dancing around the room, ‘your commune didn’t just teach you to eat, pray and love, did they also teach little girls how to dance like eccentric rock stars?’

Ava found herself taking her first easy breath since she’d arrived back home. ‘Just because you can’t dance to save your life doesn’t mean you can look down your nose at others. Besides, she gets her dancing gene from me.’

‘No doubt about that,’ he drawled.

‘Watch it!’

Annabelle danced over to them. ‘Can I have a biscuit, please?’

Cesare picked up the plate and held it out to her. ‘It’s called biscotti. Try saying it, piccolina.’ He smiled with undisguised pride when she pronounced it perfectly.

Ava swallowed but the solid lump wouldn’t move from her throat. Blinking away sudden tears, she jumped up and picked up her laptop.

‘If you don’t mind watching her, I’ll go and put this away.’

‘Then we can swim, Mummy? You promised.’ As a prize for being good on the plane, she’d promised her daughter the earth—and a long swim when they got home.

‘Yes, we can, so don’t have too much lemonade, okay?’

As she left the room, she felt Cesare’s incisive gaze probing her back. Her steps quickened, defiantly trying to outrun the calm, completely rational voice asking if she knew what she was letting herself in for.

* * *

They weren’t in the salone or at the pool when she returned five minutes later, dressed in an orange one-piece swimsuit and white shorts with a loose white shirt over the top. Ava was about to return indoors when she heard her daughter’s voice.

Following the flower-lined pathway that curved round the villa, she stopped in her tracks. Cesare and Annabelle were bent over a rose bush, admiring a trio of butterflies fluttering from one bud to the other.

It wasn’t the picture of wonderment on her daughter’s face that stopped Ava’s heart. It was the look of intense pain reflected in Cesare’s face as he gazed at Annabelle. He looked so starkly distraught that she leaned her hand against the wall to steady herself.

And immediately pulled back with a gasp as the baking concrete singed her hand. Cesare glanced up. In an instant the look was gone. If it hadn’t registered for more than a few seconds, Ava would’ve thought she’d imagined it. She held her breath as he straightened up and strode to her.

‘Are you all right?’ he questioned coolly.

‘Hot wall, bare skin. Bad idea. Should remember that.’

He claimed her hand and examined the heated flesh. ‘There’s some ice on the table. I’ll put some on it for you,’ he said.

She glanced at Annabelle.

‘She’s enthralled with her butterflies for now. Come.’ The word was more command than suggestion.

‘Seriously, it’s nothing.’

He cast her a grim smile and marched her to the poolside. ‘Is that why you’re grimacing? Because it’s nothing?’

‘Fine, it hurts like hell. Satisfied?’

Pushing her into one of the padded seats, he sat opposite her. ‘Why do women always say it’s nothing, when clearly it isn’t?’

‘I don’t know. You’ve probably known more women than me. You tell me.’

He didn’t deny it. Just smiled in that oh-so-smug way that made her yearn to kick him. Hard. ‘Normally, it’s just a way of attracting more attention.’

Irritation grew, along with her already heated temperature. He’d used the fully equipped pool house to change into swimming trunks in the time she’d gone upstairs and his bare muscular thighs almost imprisoning hers were covered in short silky hairs that taunted her with their luxuriant promise. The reaction it caused to her body was as unwelcome as it was unstoppable.

‘You think I burned myself deliberately to get your attention? You really think I’m that pathetic?’ Why did her voice sound so husky? And why, when he hadn’t even administered the ice on her stinging palm, were her nipples peaking so painfully?

He smiled, wrapped several ice cubes in a linen napkin and placed it in her palm. ‘No, cara mia. Because you’re not most women.’ His gaze captured hers, the tawny depths smoky, intense and way too captivating for her sanity.

‘Thank you. I think.’ Foolish pleasure stole through her, accelerating her already racing heartbeat.

‘Prego.’ The deep, softly muttered word flowed over her overheating senses.

Everything fell away. The sound of the water splashing against the side of the pool, the warm buzzing of bees in the afternoon air, the sound of boats on the lake. Everything, except the heat radiating from Cesare’s eyes, the warmth of the fingers curled around hers and the emotions rippling through her. His gaze traced her face. When it lingered on her lips, it took all her willpower not to lick them in shameless anticipation.

Unavoidably, her own gaze fell to the sensual curve of his lips; lips she’d tasted mere hours ago.

Heat collected and oozed between her legs, stinging with a need that gripped with relentless force. Realising she hadn’t taken a breath in a dizzyingly long time, she sucked in air through her mouth.

The sound ripped through their sensual cocoon, intensifying the tension arcing between them. Cesare swallowed, the movement of his strong neck making her pulse skitter and her fingers yearn to caress his skin.

His fingers convulsed around hers. Her gaze returned to his face and found his attention riveted on her breasts.

Desire wove a dangerous path through her as she remembered how much he’d once loved her breasts. How he’d used to mould them, shape them with his hands and worship them for what seemed like long, endless hours while he murmured heated Italian words in homage.

His gaze darted back to hers and she knew he was remembering too. Remembering how he’d loved them even more when they grew fuller with her pregnancy.

She couldn’t take it any more. Her eyelids grew heavy, her blood thickening with unbearable yearning even as she tried to pull away.

He held her easily.

‘Cesare...’ She wasn’t sure whether she was pleading or protesting.

His eyes darkened to a burnished gold. He wanted her too. Desperately. The thought sent delight racing through her veins at the exact moment he gave a strangled groan.

‘Cesare, please.’ She wasn’t even certain that she wanted him to answer the sexual need clawing through her. All she knew was that she wanted answers.

She saw his withdrawal even before Annabelle’s distressed voice reached them. ‘Papà, they flew away. I wanted them to stay but the butterflies flew away!’

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