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CHAPTER ONE
‘SIGNORA?’
The voice, hesitant but insistent, jerked Ava from deep sleep. Momentarily disoriented, she pushed a swathe of Titian hair off her forehead but the nightmare...that nightmare...clung to the edges of her consciousness.
‘I’m sorry to disturb you but Signore di Goia is on the phone. Again.’ The stewardess, dressed in the emerald silk suit that displayed her employer’s unique insignia, held out the sleek black phone. Ava eyed the phone, the same one she’d been presented with three times since the di Goia jet took off from Bali almost eight hours ago.
Different emotions replaced her irritation, dispersing the last of her dream-fuelled anxiety. The lingering sense of loss, which dogged her whenever she thought of Cesare, rose to mingle with the almost helpless excitement that thoughts of him elicited...
For a few seconds she forgot the heart-rending devastation she’d left behind. Her mind crowded with the forceful presence of the man at the end of the phone. A man who despite being thousands of miles away, had the power to make her breath catch. The man who she knew within the depths of her soul she was losing with every second that passed.
‘Please tell him, again, that I’ll speak to him when we land.’ She needed to conserve every ounce of her strength for what lay ahead.
The stewardess looked bewildered. ‘But...he insists.’ No doubt she’d never encountered another living being who refused to fall at Cesare di Goia’s feet. Especially when that being was currently ensconced in unspeakably sumptuous luxury that barely began to epitomise the mind-boggling scale of the di Goia experience.
All around her, from the deep burgundy leather club chairs, the shiny cream marble tables to the bespoke silk-trimmed cashmere throws that graced every seat on the jet that could easily have carried several dozen passengers, Cesare di Goia’s wealth and influence made itself forcefully blatant.
‘Signora?’ the anxious stewardess pressed.
Guilt for her predicament made Ava reach for the phone.
‘Cesare.’ She held her breath.
‘Now you deign to answer my calls,’ came the deep, tight voice.
‘Why should I take your call when you’ve been avoiding mine for over two weeks now? You told me you’d return to Bali last week.’ The ease with which he’d put her off made her hand tighten on the phone. It was with much the same afterthought that he’d conducted their marriage for the last year.
‘I was delayed in Abu Dhabi. Unavoidably,’ he added tautly.
Unavoidably. How many times had she heard that before? ‘Of course. Was that all?’
An exhalation of ire came down the line. ‘No, that is not all. Explain yourself,’ came the unyielding command.
‘I take it you mean: why have I commandeered your plane?’
‘Sì. This was not the plan.’
‘I know, but my plans have changed too. Unavoidably,’ she replied with a lightness she didn’t feel.
‘In what way have your plans changed?’ he bit out.
‘If you’d bothered to pick up the phone in the last two weeks, I would’ve told you.’
‘We have spoken in the last two weeks—’
‘No, Cesare, you called twice, both times to tell me you were postponing your return...’ Her voice threatened to break as memories flooded her mind—her endless phone calls to Cesare’s assistant to make sure his calendar was kept clear, shopping for the most enticing outfits and making sure the chef at the luxury rented villa in Bali prepared his favourite foods. She’d planned everything to the last detail...all in an effort to save her marriage. Only to have it backfire spectacularly. ‘Anyway, I’m saving you the trouble of making the long trip, or of coming up with another excuse. Goodbye, Cesare.’
‘Ava—’
She pressed the end button, cutting off the growled warning. She’d barely exhaled when the phone rang again. Carefully, she set it down on the table, unanswered.
The stunned look on the stewardess’s face made Ava smile, despite the rush of her thundering pulse. ‘Don’t worry, his bark is worse than his bite.’
The woman coughed out an incoherent sound before hastily retreating to her station at the front of the plane.
With not quite steady hands, Ava poured a glass of water from the crystal-cut jug and took a tiny sip. Yes, Cesare ruled his world with unquestionable domination. But she’d never been one to ask how high? when told to jump, a fact which had, in the past, both intrigued and infuriated Cesare.
