Marriage Made of Secrets. Maya Blake
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