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Oh, dear. Somewhat at a loss, Cherry squeezed the slim fingers in hers. ‘Then it will happen,’ she said simply. ‘When it’s right. He’ll wait for you, if he is the one.’
They talked a little more. Cherry told Vittorio’s sister about her job in marketing, and what it had entailed, adding that she was glad she had left when she had and that she was considering a change of career when she returned to England eventually. ‘Perhaps local government—something like that. My degree is in English and Business Studies, but I think I’d find social services more interesting. I’m not sure. Time will tell. For now I’m looking on the next few months as the gap year I never had before university.’
Sophia nodded, but clearly had no interest in a career herself, only becoming animated when she told Cherry about Santo and how wonderful he was. ‘He has never looked at another girl. I know this,’ she said passionately, ‘and I could never love anyone else. It is foolish to make us wait. I tell Vittorio this but he will not listen. He has the heart of ice, not of fire.’
After a while both girls settled down for a siesta in the shade of the trees, the chirruping of birds and the lazy hum of bees in the surrounding vegetation the only sound disturbing the warm scented air. Cherry could hardly believe she’d told a virtual stranger about Liam and Angela, but then maybe it was because Sophia was a stranger that it had proved so easy. That and these incredibly beautiful and surreal surroundings.
This whole interlude felt like a step out of time, she thought drowsily in the moments before sleep overcame her. It was as though she had been transported to another dimension—a dimension ruled by a dark and autocratic overlord with a heart of stone.
CHAPTER THREE
WHEN Cherry awoke it was because some sixth sense was telling her to beware. From a deep sleep her eyes flew open, and she raised her head to stare into the beautiful smoky-grey eyes that had featured in a dream she now couldn’t remember but which she knew had been disturbing.
‘Sleeping Beauty.’ Vittorio’s voice was soft and deep. ‘This is a fairytale, si?’
It might be—but never had the Prince been dressed in nothing but a brief pair of swimming trunks, and she didn’t think even Prince Charming’s body could compete with the man in front of her. The flagrant masculinity had been raw enough when Vittorio had been fully dressed. Now it was positively alarming. His thickly muscled torso gleamed like oiled silk, and he had obviously just been in the pool because the tight black curls on his chest glistened with droplets of water. The hair on his chest narrowed to a thin line over his flat belly, disappearing into the trunks, and his thighs were hard and powerful. He looked lean, lithe and dangerous, and undeniably earth-shattering.
Cherry swallowed. There was something about Vittorio Carella which made her feel completely subjugated and painfully feminine. She could cope with the second emotion, but the first was causing her hackles to rise again. Nevertheless, she did what she’d promised herself she would do the next time she saw him and said quickly, ‘I must apologise for not thanking you properly for allowing me to stay. I’m not usually so rude.’
He eyed her speculatively for a moment, then stretched out on the sun-lounger his sister had used earlier. Lazily, he drawled, ‘Then why so remiss today, Cherry?’
She might have known she couldn’t expect him simply to accept her apology and leave it at that. It took all of her considerable willpower to bite back the tart retort hovering on her tongue and say flatly, ‘Probably because we got off on the wrong foot.’
‘The wrong foot?’ He was clearly amused. ‘This is an English expression, si? But why did we get off on this “wrong foot”, eh? I think I know the answer to this.’
She stared at him, not knowing what to say.
‘For some reason you do not like me. This is true, si?’
She could tell he was enjoying her discomfiture, playing with her like a cat with a mouse, and nothing could have stopped her next words. ‘As it happens, you’re dead right.’ So much for the apology. But it was his fault, not hers.
‘You are an independent woman, I think. Strong. And surprisingly unmaterialistic.’
She didn’t know if she agreed with his opinion—certainly with regard to the first two attributes. She hadn’t felt very strong lately. Weakly, she said, ‘Surprisingly?’
‘I have found most modern women are driven by avarice and greed when it comes to looking for a partner in the opposite sex.’
Cherry reared up like a scalded cat, glaring at him with shocked eyes. ‘That’s absolutely ridiculous.’
‘You think so?’ He smiled coldly. ‘But this is not a criticism, Cherry. Most mothers want their daughters to marry well and live a life of luxury. It is natural. And most daughters are only too pleased to be guided by Mamma in this respect. Over the last years I have had a whole host of such daughters paraded before me by hopeful matrons who probably know to the last euro what I am worth. And of course there have been other women—socialites and so on—who thought they would like to become Signora Carella and continue to live in the manner to which they were accustomed. A few have even said this outright.’
She stared at him. ‘Are you saying women only want you for your money?’ Had he looked in the mirror lately?
He laughed—a throaty chuckle. ‘Not only my money, no. If there was a choice between a rich old man and a rich young one most red-blooded females would prefer the latter, I have no doubt. But wealth and position are powerful aphrodisiacs.’
Cherry thought he was doing himself—and probably the vast majority of the women he’d spoken of—a grave injustice. Vittorio Carella was the epitome of a man with everything, and she didn’t doubt women would find it easy to fall in love with him. She found the thought uncomfortable, and because of this her voice was uncharacteristically sharp when she said, ‘Something tells me you have been mixing with the wrong type of woman. Or maybe it’s a case of “live by the sword, die by the sword”?’
‘An interesting suggestion.’ His voice was smooth, silky, but there was the slightest of inflexion in the cool foreign voice that hinted he wasn’t as relaxed and nonchalant as he’d have her believe. ‘You are intimating I get what I deserve, signorina?’
‘My father always used to say that water finds its own level.’ She smiled, determined not to be intimidated by this arrogant individual who had put womankind into a box. ‘And I happen to have lots of female friends who couldn’t care less about the balance of a man’s bank account but put a high price on faithfulness and commitment.’
‘And you, Cherry? Do you put a high price on faithfulness?’
For a second she wondered if Sophia had told him about Liam and Angela, but almost immediately dismissed the thought. Brother and sister weren’t into cosy conversations just at the moment. She took a deep breath and spoke from the heart. ‘It’s priceless.’
The grey eyes narrowed before he raked back his wet hair with bronzed fingers. Changing the subject with an abruptness which was unnerving, he said, ‘I saw Sophia talking to you earlier.’ He gestured towards the house. ‘From the window. The conversation appeared… intense.’
Cherry’s chin tilted upwards. To anyone who knew her it was a warning signal, but her voice was controlled and without heat when she said calmly, ‘I have no intention of repeating my conversation with your sister, Signor Carella.’
