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‘It’s Agata Marinello again. She’s whining about your continued silence. Why don’t you just tell her you won’t be attending the wedding and be done with it so I can have a bit of peace? Or am I so far in the dog house you can’t even be bothered to find the key and let me out?’
Cesare looked up from the electronic tablet he’d been working on since they’d transferred from helicopter to car.
‘Why would you be in the dog house?’ His voice was coolly neutral.
Her fingers tightened around her phone. ‘Really, are we going to play this game?’
‘No, there will be no more games, cara. I think we’ve reached an understanding on where we both stand. Finally.’ His cool demeanour was nothing like the held-together-by-a-thread aroused male he’d been at the pool.
He’d picked her up from her meeting dressed in a custom-made suit, polished shoes, sunglasses in place, looking intoxicatingly magnificent, as always.
After seeing him in casual clothes every day for almost two weeks, the sight of him dressed for business, his dynamic persona in place, only made her agitation worse.
The short drive down to the helipad and the flight into Rome been accomplished in near silence, save for Annabelle’s chatter.
‘You intend to freeze me out for the foreseeable future? That’s fine. But can you find half a minute and text Agata and tell her you’re not attending her precious son’s wedding? Because her texts are seriously driving me insane. And I won’t be accountable for my actions if she keeps it up,’ she warned.
He shot her a hooded, speculative look before he nodded. ‘I’ll get in touch with her before the close of play today.’
‘Thank you. You can go back to ignoring me now.’
After checking Annabelle still dozed in her car seat, she stared out of the window as the car edged around the Trevi Fountain and headed west towards Campo de Fiori.
His tablet pinged as he shut it off. She knew the moment he turned to stare at her, the weight of his gaze so heavy, anxiety ratcheted several notches higher.
‘Ava—’
‘I’m sorry, okay?’
He stiffened, his fingers tightening around the stylus he’d been working with.
Pain settled in her chest as she recalled how those hands had felt on her, once upon a time. How spell-bindingly erotic they could be.
A car horn blasted, making him turn momentarily to glance out of the window. Sunlight glinted off his black mane, casting it a glossy blue-black. His profile, stunning and powerful, hit her in the solar plexus, causing her breath to lodge in her lungs. She didn’t know why she was surprised by her reaction.
Cesare, even with the slightly crooked nose sustained during a boxing match in his youth, was as close to physical perfection as any man could get. The urge to touch him made her fists clench until her nails bit into her palms. Sitting this close to him and stopping herself from touching was pure torture.
For a second, she regretted not insisting on staying in Lake Como. She glanced at him again and considered returning to the villa.
Wuss.
‘I’m sorry,’ she forced out again. ‘I know I get rash at times. The pool incident...I don’t know what I was thinking.’
His gaze flicked to Annabelle, and then back to her once he’d assured himself she still napped. ‘I do, and I’m sorry too,’ he said with a sigh. ‘Sex—or the promise of it—has become our fall-back solution to what’s happening between us. I used it to teach you a lesson the day you returned. You returned the favour yesterday and I deserved it. We’ve been pushing each other relentlessly. One of us was bound to reach boiling point eventually.’
‘And of course it had to be me.’
‘No. I haven’t been fair to you, Ava. The earthquake shook all of us out of our complacency. And losing Roberto...’ His jaw clenched.
Uncurling her hand, she placed it over his and felt momentary warmth flow between them. ‘When will we find out what happened to Roberto?’
His eyes darkened. ‘Soon...’ He stopped when his phone rang but he ignored it and pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘We’re almost at the restaurant. After that, I have meetings. We’ll talk some more tonight. Okay?’
Her heart climbed into her throat but she forced a nod. ‘Okay.’
With a long deep breath, he pulled out his phone. ‘Ciao.’ His smooth, husky voice echoed in the air-conditioned car.
She tensed when a female voice returned the greeting. The rapid flow of Italian was too much for her to follow, but her tension escalated as he spoke in low, intimate tones.
