Wondering if he could get a seat on her flight back to Italy tomorrow, she decided that his all-fired rush to get out of here at least meant she didn’t have the time to get maudlin over the sad memories she was leaving behind. That was all to the good since she had such a blissful future to look forward to.
He took the case from her the moment her feet touched the bottom stair and, while she was locking the outer door and posting the key back through the letter box for the landlord to collect, she smiled up at him through the drizzle. ‘I didn’t expect you. I’m so glad you came.’
‘Nonna told me you were due back at Pisa Airport tomorrow. I cut into my itinerary and took the chance that you would still be here. There is a chauffeured limo waiting to take us to the airport. The company jet’s ready to fly us south.’
‘My! You certainly know how to whisk a girl off her feet!’ She grinned up at him, feeling immensely privileged and proud to be about to be married to a guy who only had to click his fingers to have his needs of the moment catered to immediately. The sort of guy whose personal magnetism made him stand head and shoulders above the rest, regardless of wealth and standing.
He didn’t return her smile. His classically gorgeous features were stamped in stern mould and, shaken, she voiced a sudden fear. ‘Is anything wrong? Filomena?’
‘Nonna is fine.’ He hooked an arm around her shoulders and began pacing towards a sleek silver limo. ‘Your sister has finally been located. Working in Naples. I am here to take you to her.’
‘I don’t see why I shouldn’t go to her now,’ Milly stated as Cesare emerged from the en suite bathroom, rubbing his hair with a towel. She turned from watching the brilliant sunset from the enormous soundproof windows of the luxurious modern hotel room he had brought her to, explaining that although there were older, more atmospheric places he could have chosen, Naples was a noisy city and such raucous bombardment of their auditory senses would not be conducive to a decent night’s rest, adding with a slashing grin that made her heart flip that a decent night’s rest wasn’t his top priority.
‘The morning would be best.’ He tossed the towel aside.
Milly sighed. He looked heartbreakingly gorgeous with his damp dark hair mussed, his impressive torso delineated by a black T-shirt that topped beautifully cut stone-coloured chinos. She quelled the immediate urge to go to him, snuggle up, forget everything else. She had an entirely valid point to make.
‘She’ll be at work in the morning.’
‘She’s working now.’ He paced to her, rubbed a light fingertip over the frown line between her eyes. ‘Your sister now rejoices in the name of Jacinta Le Bouchard and works as an exotic dancer and hostess in the type of nightclub I wouldn’t expect or want you to go near.’
Milly felt her spine crumple. The hostess bit was obviously a euphemism, judging by the way his mouth had flattened with distaste. Surely her poor sister hadn’t been reduced to selling her body to any man willing to hand over a fistful of money?
No wonder that during the flight over he had said little more on the subject other than that his investigator had tracked Jilly down to Naples, reiterating his promise that she would have time alone with her twin initially in order to break the news of the loss of their mother but that he would then give her the lecture of her life, although he did not intend to press charges of theft.
‘I’m sorry, amore mia.’ He folded gentle arms around her and splayed his fingers in her silky blonde hair as he drew her head against his heart. ‘If I could have spared you any of this I would have done. You are naturally worried for her future welfare,’ he soothed. ‘And for your sake I promise to find her more salubrious employment, provided she agrees that her lifestyle must change.’
He held her a little away from his body, ‘And now I suggest you shower and change. I’ll order from room service and we will have a night of such pleasure that you will forget your anxieties over tomorrow. Yes?’
His dark eyes were brimming with tenderness and her love for him overflowed, making it difficult to breathe. He was such an intrinsically good man. She adored him so much it hurt!
For her sake he was willing to put his previously driven need to see Jilly clapped in irons behind him, even to the extent of offering her a way out of the present seemingly dodgy career she had embarked upon. So for his sake she would put her twin right out of her head. Tomorrow morning would come soon enough.
‘I love you,’ she breathed, distinctly disinclined to part from him even for the space of time she would need to take a swift shower and gained herself a fleeting kiss, a mere butterfly brush of his lips against hers and a husky command to, ‘Go now. Before you wreck my plans for a night to remember!’
And, as she headed for the sumptuous bedroom and the luxurious en suite bathroom, the blood fizzing in her veins over that promise of a night to remember, he called softly, ‘Don’t spend ages dressing up for me, cara. I am not a patient man!’
Patience was a virtue in short supply as Milly showered in record time and, not even bothering to slip into the complimentary bathrobe, sped to the bedroom to fling open her suitcase. As her fingers encountered cool silk a Mona Lisa smile curved her full lips.
Perfect!
The black silk nightie she’d been completely unable to resist when she’d laid eyes on it in a stylish London boutique had been earmarked for their wedding night. But what the heck! There was nothing to stop her wearing it for him now!
It was an impractical confection of whispering sheer silk that had had Cleo breathing, ‘Wow! Sinful, or what? Sure there isn’t a man in your life—and I don’t mean the stodgy Bruce either?’
Explosive heat erupted deep in her pelvis as she slipped into it, her breasts tingling as they peaked against the cool fabric and her tummy fluttered as she encountered her image in one of the full length mirrors.
The silk clung everywhere. It subtly moulded every last intimate contour of her body, only the just-above-the-knee length side split allowing the wearer to walk.
The words brazen and siren slipped into her mind so she roughly pushed them out again. Cesare was her future husband.
But he’d said that he’d found Jilly’s in-your-face-sexy choice of apparel to be a total turn-off.
Diving back into her suitcase she pulled out the matching negligee and slipped it on and if she still looked too come-and-grab-me she’d just have to start over, dig out a dress and fresh underwear.
An agitated appraisal did something to settle her nerves. Dressing like a vamp didn’t come naturally to her—hadn’t she loathed wearing her twin’s cast-offs? The negligee helped. Sleeveless too, it was generously cut, falling in graceful folds to her ankles, the edges banded with delicate silk ruffles.
A little sigh of relief quivered on her soft mouth. Better. And anyway, what was wrong with a woman looking willing when she was about to spend the night with her soon-to-be husband?
On a wave of renewed confidence she opened the door to the living area. Cesare was standing at the huge window looking down at the teeming city, his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his chinos. He looked so commanding, so gorgeous that she just stopped breathing. And as she swayed towards him—it was the only form of locomotion she could manage because of the tight cut of the nightie—he turned and watched her, a smile of all-male appreciation wreathing his stunning features.
‘Gift wrapped too!’ He strode forward to meet her necessarily slinky approach, taking both her hands, holding her a little away from him, and his gleaming dark eyes swept slowly over her from head to toe with hot appreciation, making her cheeks glow and her heart beat like a steam hammer.
Lean hands slid to her slender waist, tugging her closer to the hard perfection of his body. ‘I just lost my appetite for food,’ he confided in a husky undertone. His lips found her earlobe. ‘However, we will both make an effort.’ His mouth moved to the sensitive hollow beneath her jaw and Milly’s knees immediately turned to water. ‘Anticipation adds spice, don’t you think?’
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br /> His accent had never been so pronounced Milly decided, completely intoxicated by him as he led her to the alcove where a low table fronted a voguish deeply upholstered sofa.
White linen napkins, heavy silver flatware, elegant crystal glasses, champagne on ice and a mouthwatering array of seafood, salad and pasta dishes. Milly couldn’t imagine eating any of it, she thought as she slid on to the sofa. Sexual tension was closing her throat up. Impossible to swallow the smallest morsel.
But when Cesare handed her a glass of the foaming liquid and angled his lean muscular body on to the sofa beside her she relaxed just a little until his knee touched hers and sheet lightning shot from that heated spot right into the private pulsating heart of her.
Her need for him was driving her crazy! Shakily, she put the glass down on the table just as Cesare angled his hips to extract a small velvet-covered box from a side pocket.
He put it into her nerveless fingers. ‘For you, amore mia. Open it.’
For a long moment her eyes meshed with his. He had never said he loved her, but his eyes said it for him. Her heart full to bursting point, she lifted the lid. And gasped.
The square cut emerald in its simple gold setting was spectacular. Tanned lean fingers extracted the ring from its velvet nest and slipped it on her finger.
‘For me!’ Eyes as deeply green as the magnificent stone lifted to him, watched his mouth curve.
‘I don’t recall asking anyone else to marry me. And this…’He took a fine gold chain she’d been too dazzled by the emerald to notice from the velvet box and dangled it from his fingers. ‘With this you can wear my ring around your neck until we are together to tell Nonna of our wedding plans, when she is stronger. But wear it now, wear it for me.’
Still too dazzled by the brilliance of the exquisite gem to grasp his meaning, she tipped her head on one side. ‘I don’t understand. We’ll both be returning to the villa after—after tomorrow, won’t we?’
‘Alas, no. As I said, I broke into my itinerary to bring you here. Tomorrow afternoon you will fly to Pisa, where Stefano will meet you. And I go to London for a series of crucial meetings with the CEO of the fine gems offshoot and the top two designers.’
Disappointment hit Milly hard. She had so hoped—believed—that they would return together to break the wonderful news to Filomena, begin to organise their wedding.
Thankfully, common sense came to her rescue and stopped her whining like a child deprived of a favourite toy. Cesare had a huge world-spanning business empire to run and he was the sort of guy who firmly believed in the hands-on approach. And of course Filomena needed to get her strength back before she threw herself into wedding plans, as Cesare had warned she would.
She lifted her glass and raised it to him, her eyes glinting with teasing laughter now she’d got her priorities straightened out. ‘To the longest secret engagement on record!’
‘Not that long, I promise.’ His response was sombre, and she didn’t quite know what to read into that change of mood, then thought nothing more of it when he selected a fork and began to feed her delicious morsels. Reciprocating, she fed him and the mood was good again. Close. Warm. Until, reaching forward to spear a yummy-looking piece of lobster for him she noted that the edges of her robe had parted, displaying full breasts lovingly moulded by wispy black silk, and noticed with a shock of pleasure that his eyes were riveted.
Laying down the fork he’d been using, he muttered in his own language, something that she took to be an imprecation, rose to his feet and scooped her into his arms with a husky, ‘There’s only so much anticipation a guy can take!’ and carried her into the bedroom.
Even through the tinted glass windows Milly could see that the narrow streets they were driving through at a snail’s pace looked pretty sleazy. For the first time this morning she was beginning to feel edgy about the coming encounter with her sister.
She’d woken feeling fabulous, sated and limp limbed from what had truly turned out to be a night to remember. Cesare had brought her breakfast on a tray. Juice, coffee, toast and thin slices of ham.
He’d joined her, easing his lean boxer-clad body beside her, and in no time at all he’d reached out and smoothed a hand over the curve of her naked shoulder, drawing her to him murmuring unsteadily, ‘You’re so sexy. I can’t keep my hands off you.’
‘I don’t want you to,’ she’d confessed huskily, drowning in pleasure as his fingers caressed her distended nipples. Pushing the tray aside, she’d turned then, her body stretching out to connect with his. With uninhibited passion she had hooked her fingers around the waistband of his boxer shorts and pulled them down.
And the rest, as they said, was history!
Later they’d showered together with predictable results. Her body glowed at the memory.
She’d still been on cloud nine while she’d dressed in the cream-coloured linen trousers and a tailored dark green cool cotton shirt while Cesare had gone to the lounge area. She’d heard him talking on his mobile, first in English and then in his own language with no room in her head for a single thought that centred on her delinquent twin.
Now as the driver negotiated the tangled warren of streets, the thought of the coming difficult interview made her heart thump and her stomach turn over. As if attuned to her every thoughtwave, Cesare’s fingers tightened around hers as he stated, ‘There’s nothing to worry about, cara. Don’t let her browbeat you or spin a tissue of lies. Simply break the news about your mother, tell her I have incontrovertible proof that she stole from my grandmother and leave the rest to me. I promise I won’t involve the police.’
On an impulse she rested her head against his broad shoulder. ‘I’m grateful. I know she deserves to have the book thrown at her, but—’
‘She is your twin sister and there is a bond,’ he finished for her. ‘I can understand. Though I strongly doubt she would feel the same.’ And before she could argue with that, remind him that Jilly had always looked out for her when they’d been kids Cesare announced, ‘We seem to have arrived.’
They were parked in front of firmly closed doors with peeling paintwork flanked by grimy glass fronted panels containing coloured photographs of scantily clad females in suggestive poses. Inexpertly painted names were angled over and beneath them. Jacinta Le Bouchard prominent among them.
Feeling decidedly anxious over her twin’s disastrous career choice, not to mention her even dodgier future prospects, as Cesare helped her out of the sleek black car she watched as he leaned in the front and spoke to the driver, who nodded, picked a newspaper from the front seat and settled down to read.
‘Come.’ He cupped a hand beneath her elbow as they entered a narrow malodorous alley beside the nightclub. ‘I will leave you alone with her for twenty minutes, half an hour max, before I join you. When that is over the driver will take us to the airport and I will see you on a flight to Pisa before heading for London,’ he told her flatly, releasing her elbow, some kind of tension hardening the sculpted angles of his stunning profile.
He was making her too uneasy to say anything more than a mumbled, ‘Thanks.’
She felt suddenly that a great yawning gulf had opened up between them, that he was deliberately distancing himself from her. Had coming face to face with the way her twin was earning a living given him second thoughts about having anything to do with her, let alone marrying her and introducing tainted blood into his high status family?
The thought was unworthy, too horrible to contemplate. Milly ousted it with a decisive shake of her head and followed him up a short flight of crumbling stone steps, through an open doorway and into a narrow passage.
The first door he came to—more flaking paintwork—bore a card with the cringe-making ‘Jacinta Le Bouchard’ printed on it in violet ink. Pressing his finger on the bell, keeping it there, his jaw set, he didn’t look at her. His mouth was flat with contemptuous distaste when, after a minute or two, the door was roughly dragged open and Jilly stood there, wearing a kimono splashed all o
ver with brightly coloured dragons, her long hair all over the place, her mouth dropping open with shock.
Turning, he levelled an unreadable look at her and Milly paled, even more colour leaving her face as he turned on his heel and strode back down the narrow passage as if he couldn’t wait to get away. Her troubled eyes followed him every step of the way until he disappeared out of sight.
Was he recalling her initial deception, lumping her morals with her twin’s? Two of a kind?
‘What the hell are you doing here with that bastard?’
Milly turned to face her twin. Her unwelcoming face still bore traces of last night’s make-up and it wasn’t like Jilly to be less than ultra-fastidious about her skin care routine, she thought with a pang, making herself remember that she was here for a purpose. ‘Can I come in?’
As a reply Jilly turned and walked across the tiny hallway and through a beaded curtain. Milly followed, leaving the front door open, because who knew when she’d leave her twin to her own devices and leg it after Cesare to make him explain why he’d looked at her as if she was the last person on earth he wanted to be with?
Gathering herself with the reminder that there were things that had to be said, she brushed through the hanging strands of beads and stepped into a room which one look told her served as sitting room, bedroom and kitchen. Clothes were strewn everywhere and Milly had the unfond memory of how, for as far as her memory stretched back she’d had to clear up after her twin.
‘I’m afraid I’ve got bad news,’ she said softly as her twin parked herself on the scarlet satin covered bed.
‘Spit it out then.’ With an uninterested shrug, Jilly reached for a pack of cigarettes and lit up, blowing a plume of smoke towards the ceiling.
Milly moved closer, ready to offer comfort. There was no way to break this gently. ‘I’m sorry, but Ma passed away a few months ago. It was sudden.’ She reached for her twin’s cigarette free hand, noted the sudden frown between the mirror-image of her own eyes, and could have wept for her, vividly remembering her own shock and grief. ‘I would have contacted you,’ she impressed on her quietly, ‘but I didn’t know how. You hadn’t been in touch since you left Florence.’
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