by Maya Blake
But most women weren’t his wife!
Another growl emerged before he could stifle it. Cursing the possessiveness that had sprung from nowhere, he grabbed her arm and stalked down the hall. ‘I don’t begrudge you the dress, cara. My only wish is that you’d received more of it for your efforts.’
She bared her teeth in a fake smile. ‘Well, keep wishing, tesoro. Who knows, Santa might come early.’
* * *
Ava was only half-listening to the guest whose name she’d forgotten. That he didn’t speak more than a dozen words of English made it easy. Her eyes tracked Cesare, who she’d smugly believed hated nightclubs and would hate this evening.
No. Far from smouldering arrogantly the way she remembered him to, he was on the dance floor, enjoying the attentions of the blonde who’d attached herself to him the moment they’d walked in the door.
She glanced down at her dress, and again wondered if she’d been wise to listen to the saleslady at the shop on the Via Condotti who’d insisted the green dress was perfect for her.
Compared to Cesare’s dance-partner’s dress, Ava’s was downright demure. The woman could easily be mistaken for a runway model. Her bone structure alone was enough to make the men here salivate with lust. The fact that she was currently breathing the same air as Cesare didn’t seem to deter other men from watching her.
A fist of jealousy lodged in her chest, squeezing until she couldn’t breathe.
It didn’t help that all day she’d felt on tenterhooks.
She couldn’t help but feel her life would unravel even further once she and Cesare finally had their talk.
‘You mustn’t worry, il mio amico. Giuliana is a man-eater, but trust Cesare.’
She turned to find Celine watching her with an expression sickeningly close to pity.
Ava forced out a laugh. ‘I’m not worried.’
‘I hope it’s because you trust him.’ Celine’s brown eyes narrowed. ‘You know he will not deliberately hurt you?’
Anxiety and confusion warred through her. ‘Unfortunately, I know nothing of the sort.’ Cesare’s withdrawal from her had shattered the foundations of her belief.
‘Hang in there. Di Goia men don’t give their love easily.’ Sadness clouded Celine’s eyes.
Ava touched her arm. ‘Cesare told me about you and Roberto...and Valentina.’
Celine’s eyes widened. ‘Really?’
She gave a slight grimace. ‘I demanded to know his connection to you.’
Celine’s smile wobbled. ‘I’m glad he told you. Even though he loved my sister, Roberto was the love of my life. A part of me is angry he died before I got my chance with him. But it’s not too late for you two. Whatever happens, hang on with everything you’ve got.’
Several minutes after she’d left, Ava remained rooted to the spot, Celine’s words echoing through her mind.
She didn’t deny Cesare held tremendous sway over her emotions. One smile was enough to light up her whole day. The occasional glimpses of pain she saw flash through his eyes caused her heart to echo his pain over losing his brother.
But, no matter how she felt about him, she couldn’t dismiss the fact that he’d only married her because she’d been pregnant; that he’d tolerated her because she was the mother of his child. Despair rose like a riptide, threatening to suck her down.
The music ended and she watched Cesare and the stunning Giuliana head for the bar. As he plucked two champagne flutes from the counter, his eyes met Ava’s. His gaze raked over her, sending her pulse into overdrive.
Suddenly annoyed with his effortless power over her emotions, she lifted her glass in mock salute.
There was no future to hang on to. At least not where she and Cesare were concerned. She didn’t doubt his love for Annabelle and therefore didn’t doubt his capacity to love. But that love didn’t stretch to her.
The distress the thought produced made her glass tremble in her hand.
Setting it down, she found the guest she’d spoken to earlier next to her. Before she could excuse herself, he smiled. Racking her brain, she remembered Celine had introduced him as her second cousin. He was charmingly good-looking, with light brown hair and attractively boyish brown eyes. Not wishing to appear rude, she smiled in return.
He moved closer. ‘Drink?’ A champagne-serving waiter lingered nearby.
Hastily, she shook her head. She’d barely eaten more than a few mouthfuls at dinner. Drinking on an empty stomach was a bad idea.
Her admirer set his glass down with a decisive click.
‘Balliamo?’ He gestured to the dance floor. When she hesitated, he clasped a dramatic hand over his heart. ‘Per favore?’
On a sudden whim, she nodded. She’d never been one to slink away to lick her wounds. As much as she wanted to shut herself off, preferably somewhere quiet, and indulge in a monster ice cream-fuelled pity party, she wouldn’t.
She was here because of Celine. The least she could do was pretend to enjoy herself.
‘Wait.’ She laughed when he tried to steer her towards the dance floor.
His face fell but when he saw her shucking off her shoes, his grin widened. The blaring hip-hop was the perfect antidote to her melancholy.
Mario—she remembered his name now—led her to the middle of the dance floor and proceeded to prove himself an energetic dance partner.
The next few songs flew by. Somewhere, during a twirl, her hair clasp slid off and disappeared. Feeling freer, she let go.
When the songs slowed, she stopped dancing, grateful for the chance to cool down. ‘Thank you, that was—’ She stuttered to a stop when his arms slid around her waist.
Just as quickly she was disengaged from him. She almost lost her balance as rough hands grabbed her from behind. The tingle along her nerve endings announced who held her before she heard his voice.
‘It’s time to leave.’
Without waiting for her agreement, he tucked her behind him, then murmured low, heated words to Mario. In the strobe light, Ava saw the younger man pale.
Cesare’s jaw was set as he straightened and manacled her wrist with one hand.
Before she could draw breath, he was tugging her off the dance floor.
‘Cesare, wait!’
He ignored her and headed towards the exit.
‘For goodness’ sake, stop! I need to get my shoes.’
He stopped so suddenly she careened into him. His hard body easily absorbed the impact, but she was left with a vivid imprint of his broad, bristling masculine form. With his fingers still imprisoning her wrist, his gaze dropped to her feet.
‘You danced barefoot?’ he grazed out.
‘Yes. Now I need to get my shoes.’
‘Why? You’ll only discard them at the earliest opportunity.’
‘That doesn’t mean I want to leave them behind. They cost me a bomb.’
His eyes glinted with danger. ‘Do not move from here.’
The crowd parted for him as he headed for the bar. He returned seconds later, her silver shoes dangling from his fingers. Wordlessly he thrust them at her. When she didn’t immediately put them on, his eyebrow shot up.
‘What? My feet are killing me.’
His gaze dropped again to her bare feet. For some reason, the sight of them seemed to annoy him further. When he glanced at her, his eyes were ablaze with a look that made her swallow and step back.
He advanced until she was backed into a corner. ‘What do you think you were playing at back there?’ he asked through clenched teeth.
‘I could ask you the same thing.’
He bared his teeth, but nothing about his expression showed he was in a merry mood. ‘How long are we going to keep doing this? We’ve tested the theory a few times these past weeks. Per favore, Ava, you need to
stop pushing my buttons because I’m hanging by a thread here, and I’m seriously scared of what the consequences will mean for us if I snap.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE INTENSITY BEHIND his words sent a wave of panic through Ava.
She swallowed, cleared her throat and shook her head. She couldn’t show him how his behaviour had affected her. ‘You were too busy renewing your various acquaintances to be bothered with me, so I decided to make my own friends.’
Tawny eyes darkened into stormy pools. ‘And you thought the best way to enjoy yourself is to let another man put his hands all over you?’ His fists were clenched and his pallor had faded a little underneath his tan. The tic beating a wild tattoo in his cheek made her belly swan dive.
‘We were just dancing. No big deal.’
His disbelieving laugh grated on her ears. ‘No big deal?’
‘What did you expect? That I’d sulk in a corner pining for you?’
He released a harsh breath. ‘Ava...’
‘You want to leave, so let’s go.’ Unable to withstand the pressure, she pushed past him and threw open the heavy oak doors that led outside.
The cool breeze after the nightclub’s cloying atmosphere was a refreshing welcome. Heaving lungfuls of air into her oxygen-starved body, she stopped beside the bronze and gold column that fronted the club. She sensed Cesare behind her but thought it safer not to turn around.
‘We can’t keep doing this to one another,’ he finally rasped in a fierce undertone.
‘I agree. We can’t. You’ve withdrawn from me completely, and yet you can’t stand it when another man comes within touching distance of me. Whatever is wrong with us, it’s driving me insane and I can’t stand this any more.’ Feelings she didn’t know how to deal with ricocheted through her at lightning speed.
She seethed with anger, she wanted to cry and she wanted to scream.
Plunging shaking hands into her hair, she lifted the suddenly heavy tresses off her heated shoulders. Tears prickled at her eyes but she furiously blinked them away.
Divorce, it seemed, was her only escape. And yet the thought of that final severing from the man she’d dreamed she would spend the rest of her life with brought a hard lump to her chest.
Her frenzied fingers twisted her hair into a rope at her nape.
Cesare drew closer, bringing a renewed rush of awareness. His relentless, all encompassing heat bored down on her. She sucked in a breath and held it in, afraid to let it out lest it somehow transmitted her turmoil.
Firm hands brushed hers away and his strong fingers replaced hers. Her breath grew laboured as his fingers glided through her hair. ‘It’s time we have that talk, carissima.’ His breath fanned her sensitive lobe.
A shiver went through her. She’d started to turn when a loud wolf-whistle shattered the air from a trio of men who’d just emerged from the club.
The sight of her—arms raised, bare feet and naked, seductively curved back—garnered very male interest that made Cesare growl low in his throat.
With jerky movements, he shrugged out of his jacket. ‘Basta! I don’t care if it offends your female sensibilities. Put this on, now,’ he hissed. Pulling her arms down, he draped the jacket around her shoulders.
His limo, which had pulled up while she’d been lost in thought, stood with Paolo holding the door open. Cesare ushered her into the back seat, climbed in beside her and yanked the door shut.
Rough fists clenched and unclenched on his thigh, but it wasn’t until the car was moving that he spoke.
‘It seems you’ve turned into quite the exhibitionist, cara mia.’ The cold endearment emerged more as a reproach than an affectionate term.
She flinched and tried to move away. Immediately he trapped her arms, stopping her sideways escape.
‘A lot of things have happened while you’ve been busy pretending I don’t exist, Cesare.’
His lips firmed. ‘I can see that. And I’m wondering how all this impacts on my daughter.’
She turned sharply. ‘Stop right there! You’d better erase that whiff of you’re a bad mother I hear in your voice, PDQ! And stop referring to her as your daughter. Up until very recently, your part in all this has merely been the biology. You chose to live away from us! You lost the right to be a father when you withdrew so far physically and emotionally from our daughter, she may as well have been dead to you!’
In the darkened interior of the car, his head went back as if she’d struck him. What little colour had remained left his face. She couldn’t have struck a deeper blow if she’d shot a bullet into his heart.
Immediately contrite, she reached out and grabbed his hand. It remained cold and unmoving beneath hers.
‘Cesare, I didn’t mean that—’
‘I deserved that. But I had good reason. Or I thought I had for a long time, well before the earthquake. What happened with Roberto and Valentina...I didn’t think I deserved a child when Roberto had lost his.’
‘Do you really think Roberto begrudged you a family?’
‘I didn’t think—I knew. He told me many times that I didn’t deserve a family—’ a tight edge of pain roughened his voice ‘—that I deserved to be alone the way he was.’
Her insides fractured at his torment. But she couldn’t stop her own pain from welling up alongside it. She sank deeper into the warm jacket that had so recently draped Cesare’s body. Curiously, she drew strength from it to fight him. ‘I’m sorry he said that to you. But did you really think Annabelle deserved to suffer because your brother was fighting his own monsters?’
‘It was my duty to protect him—’
‘You also had a duty to your wife and child. I know you married me because I was pregnant,’ she forced out painfully, ‘but you shouldn’t have left me alone to bring up our daughter alone.’
A small, taut silence reigned before, ‘You were never alone,’ he said, almost under his breath. ‘You had nannies, household staff and a security detail.’
Rage smashed her burgeoning hope to smithereens. ‘Security detail? Oh, that’s all right then. You know I’ve never been part of a family. I told you how my father and brothers treated me. God, Cesare, I had no idea what I was doing when I had a baby. I expected you to stick around and help me, be with me. Instead you jumped on your jet at the first opportunity, and chased deal after deal. I didn’t marry your household staff or your security detail. I married you! You should have been there, not them!’
His hand tightened painfully on hers and his head dipped in solemn acknowledgement. ‘I should’ve been. No matter my inadequacies as a husband, I should’ve tried harder as a father. Trust me, Ava, I know my failings where my daughter is concerned.’ He spread his fingers in a purely Latin gesture. ‘It’s why I’m here now, trying to right that wrong. I intend not to lose sight of the fact that she is the most important thing in all of this.’
Hearing the words—so resolute and promising where their daughter was concerned, and so excluding where she was—made Ava’s heart catch so painfully she couldn’t speak for several seconds. But she didn’t need to. Cesare was in the mood to unburden himself. ‘Dio mio, Ava, you must remember we barely knew each other before you got pregnant and yet you so quickly put me front and centre of everything you wanted in a family. I couldn’t think straight. You say you had no idea what you were doing but to me you seemed the epitome of calm and composure. When, after a while, you didn’t seem to need me, I left.’
Ava reeled, fiercely glad she wasn’t standing up, for surely she’d have lost the power of her legs. Her spine turned liquid and she collapsed into the soft leather seat. ‘I had no idea...’
The rest of her words dried up as he shook his head, raised a silencing hand before clenching it into a fist mid-air. The action, so wrought with despair, made her inhale sharply. She glanced at his profile.
>
The corresponding look of wrenching pain on his face made her reach out.
‘Cesare—’
* * *
Cesare couldn’t stop the hiss of pain that slipped through his lips. ‘Enough! Do not say another word.’
Regret, self-condemnation, jealousy and anger all coalesced into a seething ball of emotion in his chest. Emotions he’d been fighting what felt like forever sank their steely talons deeper into him. He was exhausted... Dio, was he exhausted.
‘I’m tired of trading verbal blows with you, Ava.’
He needed a distraction, and he reached for the only thing that had ever been potent enough to melt his control.
Ava’s gasp echoed in the car as he yanked her against him.
Soft contours moulded against his hardness, her eyes widening as she encountered a particularly stiff part of him. His gaze dropped to her lips, his focus hazing at the thought of possessing her, of washing away the tide of blackness that threatened to consume him in the most effective way he knew how.
He slanted his lips over hers, and nearly groaned. Heady, seductive, infinitely dangerous to him. But, right at that moment, he didn’t care about the danger. He wanted a reprieve from the demons clamouring for his soul.
With a feathery sigh, she melted into him and he exhaled in satisfaction. He’d expected bristle and bite, for her to fight the way she always did. Instead she sank further into him.
His tongue, eager to taste, captured hers. Another gasp echoed in the silent interior as his fingers explored what he’d been itching to explore for far too long.
No woman had ever tasted like Ava. Innocent and bewitching, bold and insecure—one minute she kissed him as if she wanted to devour him, the next she whimpered with a touch of timidity.
The heady mix made him harder, torturing him with the need to pull up the short hemline that had been taunting him all evening and just take, take, take.