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Her brother had coldly seduced his sister with every intention of plundering her wealth and dumping her by the wayside. There was a compelling symmetry to what had just happened; Vicenzo was doing to Cara, something similar to what she and her brother had planned to do to his sister.
The set and cold features of Allegra came back to him. He felt no compunction now, no guilt. He buried all emotion deep inside. He had taken advantage of an intense physical desire. There was no harm in admitting that. Cara was a beautiful woman, after all. And she was well versed in the ways of the world; she was old beyond her years and certainly possessed a knowingness that his sheltered sister had never had. Allegra had been easy pickings for someone as predatory and corrupt as Cormac Brosnan.
Cara might have surprised and bewitched Vicenzo more than he’d expected, but ultimately this was where he wanted her: at his mercy and feeling all the pain it was possible for someone like her to feel. Which he guessed wasn’t much. This was far better than confronting her and trying to make her admit to her guilt. She’d have laughed in his face. A woman who could sleep with a complete stranger the night after burying her own brother was someone Vicenzo could easily despise
He stepped into the shower. After which he went back outside to dress and wait for Cara to wake up.
CHAPTER THREE
CARA felt consciousness return as if from far away. Sensations came back into her body, which felt deliciously heavy and languorous. Strange new aches and pains were present in her muscles, but she amended her first impression: not painful, pleasant. She was relishing waking slowly, and the blissful haze that clouded her brain was like a drug, keeping all painful concerns out. She knew they were there, clamouring for attention, but she wanted to hold them off on the periphery just a bit longer.
She became aware of the fact that she was no longer tucked into Enzo’s body, with his legs and arms wrapped protectively around her. She smiled. She’d had no idea it could be like that. She put out a hand, expecting to feel a big hard body, but the bed was empty beside her. Immediately her eyes flew open and she blinked in the early dawn light coming through the windows. How long had she been asleep?
She sat up and looked to the other side of the room. Enzo was sitting in a chair, watching her in the bed. Cara felt her heart stop and start again in heavy slow thuds. She felt momentarily light headed. She smiled hesitantly, feeling extremely shy.
‘Morning…’
Enzo said nothing, just continued to watch her. Cara frowned and felt a trickle of foreboding slither down her spine. The air in the room felt frosty and she had no idea why.
Her smile faded.
‘Enzo…?’ Her voice was more hesitant, unsure.
With lithe animal grace he pushed himself up from the chair and strolled to the window, where he looked out for a long moment with his back to her, hands in his pockets. Cara saw that he was fully dressed, in a suit and tie. It made her pull the sheet higher up around her breasts. She felt at a disadvantage, not knowing why this mattered.
He turned then, and she felt speared by his eyes. Any trace of tenderness and passion was gone. His visage was as stern and forbidding as if she’d just insulted him in some way. And then he said, with quiet devastation, ‘My full name isn’t actually Enzo—although close family and friends have been known to use the abbreviation. It’s Vicenzo. Vicenzo Valentini.’
For a blissful moment Cara had no reaction. As if something was protecting her. And then the import of his words started to sink in. That name. It couldn’t be. The air left her lungs. Her belly fell.
She heard herself asking shakily, ‘What did you say?’
‘You heard me.’ He was curt. Abrupt.
She shook her head as if to try and clear it, could feel her hands clenching tight around the sheet. She felt confused and bewildered. ‘You’re Allegra’s brother?’
‘Well done.’
Cara could not understand his animosity. She felt as though she were in a bad dream, and the fact that this man was dragging the awful nightmare of that night and the painful reality of her life into this room was incomprehensible.
‘You know who I am?’ Obviously he did, yet something compelled her to ask. The fact that he wasn’t jumping to offer her condolences on th
e death of her brother was glaringly obvious.
He settled back against the window, for all the world as if they were having a nice chat, but Cara could sense the tension in his frame. And the thought of that, his frame, made her feel weak. She was already compartmentalising what had happened last night and what was happening right now into two very separate places—as if some functioning part of her brain was ahead of her in deciphering what was happening.
‘Yes, of course I do, Cara.’ His voice was mocking, confusing her even more. ‘I knew who you were before we even introduced ourselves. I came to that club specifically to find you.’
She shook her head again. It felt woolly. ‘But why…why didn’t you just tell me who you were?’
Something indecipherable flashed across his face for a moment, before it became a smooth hard mask again. ‘Because I wanted to see you at first hand. Up close and personal. The little sister of Cormac Brosnan, the man who was planning on marrying my sister in Vegas on the eve of her twenty-fifth birthday so that he could claim her fortune before cruelly dumping her.’
Cara’s face leached of all colour. She’d only found out about Cormac’s plans the day of the accident. She could remember remonstrating with him, aghast that he would do such a thing. He’d laughed in her face. And then that night…
‘You knew.’
He saw her reaction, and his voice was implacable and condemnatory.
Cara met his eyes, everything around her swirling slightly. ‘Yes, but—’
