The Italian's Summer Seduction. Karen Van Der Zee
frankness.
She set the glass down with a mini crash. ‘There has to be some misunderstanding about the theft. And I want you to undo some of the damage and help me find her.’ Her mouth wobbled. ‘I’m getting really worried about her. And she doesn’t even know—’ the wobble got serious ‘—that Ma died.’
‘Cara.’ Cesare leaned across the table, his eyes intent on her troubled features. ‘I hate to see you upset. We will find her, I promise you. Already the search is well in hand.’
‘It is?’ A slight frown appeared between her eyes.
‘But of course.’ He leaned back again, relaxed, exuding male confidence.
‘But of course,’ she parroted as the penny dropped with a decided clang, an edge of bitterness in her tone. ‘Oh, silly me! You know, I only decided to step into Jilly’s shoes to stop you hounding her, to give her time to get over the way you must have treated her, let her get her act together so she’d be fit to speak in her own defence. But the moment you knew I wasn’t who I was pretending to be the search was back on.’
Across the table the slight elevation of one ebony brow infuriated her. She shot to her feet. ‘Take me back to the villa. It’s getting late.’ Her chin came up, her deep green eyes glinting with intent. ‘I’ll stay with Filomena until she’s back to normal—provided she wants me to when she learns who I really am—and then I’m off and you can hire another companion.’ It was the only way. She was really stupid and in grave danger of falling for a serial womaniser. Stay around him and she’d end up as broken-hearted as her twin.
‘Nonna doesn’t expect us to return tonight.’
The bald statement stopped her in her tracks. Oh, the rat! He had brought her here, had supplied her with a whole wardrobe of lovely new clothes, a fancy meal which she’d hardly touched, plied her with champagne, all with the intention of seducing her! Her face burned, hot as a furnace.
He had stationed himself in the doorway to the interior of the suite, blocking her way. She faced him. ‘Is this your normal routine? Shower your prey with pretty gifts, promise marriage and access to untold wealth, then walk away when you get bored!’ She took a deep breath, her tone as icy as she could make it. ‘Let me pass.’
Dusk was deepening to night but she could see the slight flare of his nostrils, denoting anger. Well, tough. No man—especially a man as all-fired self confident and proud as Cesare Saracino—liked to have his faults rammed down his throat.
‘I don’t need a routine and I don’t recall asking you to marry me,’ he sliced back at her. His hands shot out to fasten on her forearms. ‘And there are a few things we ought to straighten out as it seems I’m to be cast as the bad guy,’ he announced grimly. ‘First and foremost, since it seems to be your priority, your twin was traced to a nightclub in this city. Where she worked as a so-called hostess, not a receptionist—no mention of that dubious occupation was made in her CV. No one had heard from her since she left, and the consensus was that no one cared. She was not well liked. Enquiries were made at the London store—supposedly the last full time job she held before she came to Italy—and again blanks were drawn. Her former colleagues hadn’t cared enough about her to want to keep in touch. Since then the investigation has returned to Italy. I’m sorry,’ he added more temperately as he felt the fight drain out of her. ‘Jilly may attract a certain type of man, but among women she is far from popular.’
Trying to get her head round what he was telling her, that her dazzling, outgoing sister was actively disliked by her female colleagues, she failed to resist when Cesare slipped an arm around her waist and walked her back into the living room.
Settling her into one of the armchairs, he sat on the arm of the adjacent one, the light from the overhead chandelier burnishing his raven-dark hair, throwing the sculpted bones of his spectacularly handsome face into hard masculine relief.
Milly averted her eyes. He was so beautiful, so tempting. She hated what he was implying about her twin and yet she still wanted him and she had to find some way of defending Jilly, but—
‘There can be no doubt about the signatures on the cheques she cashed,’ Cesare said flatly. ‘A handwriting expert confirmed what I believed. They were forgeries.’ Forcing himself to ignore the way her delicate skin lost all colour, he stated, ‘And, just for the record, I was never her lover.’
At that Milly straightened her spine. ‘You as good as admitted it,’ she reminded him thickly. ‘Once, early on, I addressed you as Signor Saracino and you made some snide comment about my not being so formal when I came to your bed!’ Her eyes defied him but she felt sick inside. If he’d lied about that he could have been lying about everything else.
‘True.’ A strong hand cupped her chin, forcing her to keep looking at him, and his voice softened. ‘I will not repeat the crude words she used when she appeared uninvited and unclad in my bedroom. That is what I was referring to when I still believed you were your twin. But I will tell you that I told her to get out of my sight in double quick time or she was out of a job—regardless of how Nonna had come to rely on her company. I was heartily sick of her coming on to me. I was not, and never could be, interested. Soon after that, no doubt realising she was on a loser, she disappeared. And a few days later, while doing Nonna’s accounts I noticed a couple of large withdrawals to cash. The rest you know.’
Milly closed her eyes to hide the sudden sting of tears. Her emotions were all over the place. She had been fighting it but now she knew she had to believe him. He had no need to lie.
But Jilly—it hurt her immeasurably, but she had the horrible feeling that everything he’d said to her twin’s detriment was no less than the truth.
Seeing her sister through unblinkered eyes, she had no option but to acknowledge that Jilly had taken their mother’s nest-egg, her only safety net, and had lost every penny and much more. Then those careless, airy promises to pay it back, something that had never even begun to materialise, her thoughtlessness in rarely contacting them, as if they didn’t matter, as if their having to live in a mean rented flat in severely reduced circumstances because they’d had to pay off the huge debts she’d incurred was nothing to do with her.
How she had always boasted that she could get any man she wanted. No problem.
But not this man!
The words echoed through her mind like an anthem of thanksgiving. And this man was stroking away an escaping tear with the ball of his thumb and she was choking with emotions she couldn’t put a name to, but they were real and shatteringly strong.
‘I’m sorry to have upset you, cara. But for my own sake it had to be said.’
For his sake? Too fraught to resist or even think about doing so, Milly found him standing over her, drawing her to her feet, into his gently enfolding arms.
She could have moved away if she’d wanted to. But she didn’t. She felt safe.
‘You’ve always hero-worshipped your sister,’ Cesare guessed astutely, marvelling at his self-restraint in the way he was holding her when he ached to kiss every wonderful inch of her. But for her sake he knew he had to wait until she came to terms with her relationship problems with her sister.
‘Yes, I suppose I have.’ She held her bright head back to meet the warm concern in his eyes, her own cloudy, he noted on a tide of protective warmth. ‘She was always the stronger character.’
Bossy, he mentally translated.
‘She looked out for me when we were growing up and told me to always go to her if there were problems with other kids—like bullying—and she’d sort it.’
Thereby ensuring she was the dominant one, making sure she stayed that way, he assessed, pretty sure that the selfish Jilly wouldn’t do anything without an ulterior motive, his hands taking on a will of their own and softly caressing her slim back.
‘She could stand up to Dad,’ Milly remembered quietly. ‘He was a bit of a control freak and she