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His woman…
Her stomach dropped because it was uncomfortably close to her adolescent fantasies. When other girls had been drooling over boy bands and football stars, Jessie had been thinking about Silvio Brianza. When she’d seen him with different women it had caused an almost physical pain and the depth of her misery had been intensified by the humiliating knowledge that he had been aware of her feelings.
She’d loved him until she’d ached, but he’d never treated her as anything other than his best friend’s little sister.
They were separated by ten years and a gulf of experience.
And that gulf had been made even wider by the circumstances of her brother’s death.
She was betraying him by even being here.
‘Food, Jess,’ he said patiently, and she glanced towards him, too agitated to concentrate. Everything felt alien. The environment, him, even the clothes.
The jeans and the thin cashmere jumper fitted her perfectly but they felt like nothing she’d ever worn before.
It was amazing what money could buy.
‘How can you think about food?’ she said hoarsely. ‘We need to talk about this!’
‘We’ll talk when you’ve eaten.’ Maddeningly calm, Silvio turned to a woman who was hovering and spoke to her in Italian. Then he turned back to Jessie. ‘She’ll ask the chef to prepare something. You’re too thin. When did you last eat?’
‘I’m not thin, and, Silvio, we need to—’
‘No, we don’t need to do anything. You need to trust me.’ He strolled towards the large glass table that was the focus of the far end of the enormous room. ‘Come and join me.’
Torn between gnawing hunger and raging guilt, she didn’t move.
‘Sit, Jess.’ His tone was neutral, as if he were bored with the entire situation. ‘Or do you hate me so much you can’t sit at my table?’
Jessie stared at him in silence, wondering how it was possible to feel so many things about one man. ‘I can’t sit at your table,’ she said huskily, twisting the edge of the jumper with nervous fingers. ‘I can’t eat your food or sleep in your bed. I just can’t. I know you saved me tonight, but that doesn’t change the way I feel about you.’
His face revealed no emotion but his hand closed over the back of one chair, his knuckles white. ‘So you’d rather starve yourself and put yourself at risk?’
‘I can look after myself.’
He had the grace not to laugh. ‘You need help, Jess.’
‘I don’t want help.’
‘You mean you don’t want help from me.’ Dragging the chair back from the table, he sat down, his eyes still fastened on her. His jaw was dark with stubble, his legs long and lean, and he looked like every woman’s dark, forbidden fantasy.
‘You’re right,’ Jessie croaked, registering the sudden weakening of her knees with a spasm of bitter regret. ‘I don’t want help from you. I don’t want anything from you.’
Silvio reached out a hand and toyed with his fork, his movements slow and deliberate. ‘If you leave this place tonight,’ he said softly, ‘they’ll find you. Is that really what you want?’
Jessie rubbed her arms with her hands, trying to control the shivering. ‘I can protect myself.’
‘Like you did tonight? I’m not giving you a choice, Jess, so you don’t need to stand there wondering whether you’re betraying your brother’s memory by eating at my table. It isn’t your decision. If it makes you feel better you can tell yourself I’m holding you against your will.’ A humourless smile tugged at the corners of his sensual mouth. ‘Another crime to add to the many I’ve already committed against you.’
Dragging her eyes from his, Jessie looked at the window and thought about what was waiting for her out there in the darkness and the rain.
If she left him, she’d die and it was no use pretending otherwise.
He was the only one who could protect her against what was out there.
As if to undermine her resolve still further, at that moment several staff emerged and placed food on the table and her stomach gave an embarrassing rumble.
‘You might as well eat while you’re agonising over whether it’s all right to accept my help.’ Silvio gestured impatiently towards the table. ‘Sit, Jess.’
