expression told her the same story it had since she’d got to know him. Cesare answered to no one. He did what he wanted when it suited him. And if he wanted to introduce his mistress to his daughter tonight, that was exactly what he would have done.
Except he hadn’t. They’d put Annabelle to bed together with no mention of her meeting his guest.
‘She’s asleep. We put her to bed over an hour ago,’ Ava responded since Cesare didn’t seem inclined to.
‘Oh.’ Celine’s disappointment made Ava experience a small fizz of gleeful satisfaction. ‘Perhaps I can just look in on her?’
Glee and satisfaction evaporated. ‘You want to look in on her?’
Again Cesare didn’t seem surprised by the odd request. When Ava glanced at him, he merely shrugged and carried on twirling the stem of his glass between his fingers.
Ava swallowed down the heated Over my dead body that sprang to her lips. It was clear Celine was very much a fixture in Cesare’s life. Whether it was tonight or another night in the very near future, Celine and her daughter would meet.
But it didn’t have to be tonight, an irrational pain-filled voice whispered in her head. It might happen, but it didn’t have to be right now!
‘I don’t think it’s a good idea—’
Cesare pushed back his chair, and rising to his feet, halted her words. ‘Come, Celine. I’ll take you.’
‘No you won’t!’
His smile brushed the outer fringes of courtesy. ‘Don’t worry, Ava. She won’t be disturbed. I’ll make sure of it.’
He rose and beckoned Celine. The other woman’s clear discomfort made Ava cringe inside but she forced her chin up and smiled despite the tide of acid anxiety that swallowed her whole.
‘Make sure you don’t. If she wakes up she’ll be impossible to put back to sleep.’
Cesare didn’t turn around as he escorted Celine out of the dining room, their footsteps echoing in tandem down the hallway.
Ava sat frozen in her seat, unable to stem the ever-increasing tidal wave of despair. A small part of her hadn’t quite accepted it when Cesare told her Celine was important to him. Even through the ordeal of dinner, a small part of her had hoped that she was nothing more than a fond family friend.
But would a family friend insist on seeing Annabelle after being told she was asleep?
Of course not. Which meant, the woman whom her daughter might soon be calling stepmother was now upstairs, looking in on her precious daughter...
...while she sat here, clutching her figurative pearls like a tragic, overdramatic Victorian heroine.
Swift burning anger propelled her upright. She reached the sweeping staircase before she remembered she’d discarded her shoes under the dining table.
Whispered voices as she reached halfway up the marble stairs made her thankful for her bare, silent feet. Her hand curled over the smooth wood of the banister, her heart in her throat as she froze on the step.
‘How long are you going to keep this from her?’ Celine questioned passionately.
Cesare responded in Italian, his delivery too quick for Ava to follow, but she sensed it wasn’t what the other woman had expected to hear.
Another burst of Italian, this time from Celine, resulted in Cesare’s heavier footsteps heading towards the landing, and Ava.
‘No. It’s impossible,’ he responded in an implacable voice.
Ava held her breath as they both came into view, Celine’s short steps quickening to catch up with Cesare’s longer strides.
‘It’s painful, I know, but you have to tell her. She deserves to know what’s going on.’
Cesare reached the stairs, saw her and froze. A second later, Celine spotted Ava too. Her eyes widened with alarm before they shut in dismay.
Cesare’s mouth opened but no words emerged. His hands balled into fists and his piercing eyes bored into hers with a mixture of anger and frustration.
Ava tried to swallow, but the throat muscles required wouldn’t comply. Her fingers tightened around the banister and she prayed desperately that her legs would support her for just a little while longer.
‘Ava...’ Cesare finally rasped.
But her pain was too sharp, too decimating for her to stand there, listening to whatever explanation his astute brain had swiftly concocted for her.
‘Save it, Cesare. I may be slow on the uptake, but I’m not stupid.’
His colour faded considerably beneath his tan. A look, curiously close to alarm skittered over his face as he braced a hand on the post next to him.
‘So...you know?’
The depth of his reaction to her discovery only increased her despair. She glanced at Celine, who stood clutching the rail—as white as a sheet.
For a second Ava wondered whether she would go all out and add to the overly dramatic scene by performing a Victorian swoon, perhaps save herself the embarrassment of a confrontation by fainting. But Celine stayed on her feet, even though her hand managed to find Cesare’s arm and grip it.
Tearing her gaze from that proprietorial display, she addressed Celine. ‘I know you’re sleeping with my husband, if that’s what you’re so anxious for him to tell me.’
Cesare sucked in a swift breath. ‘Dio mio—’
‘But as long as we’re still husband and wife, you’ll stay away from him and from our daughter. Do you understand?’
Celine shook her head. ‘No! Per favore, Ava—’
Ava raised her chin. ‘It’s Signora di Goia to you. Now, get out of my house.’
‘MADRE DI DIO, Ava, there are no half measures with you, are there? You always have to jump in with both feet.’ Cesare had just slammed the door behind a hastily departed Celine. The fury radiating from his body made her swallow nervously.
She flipped her hair over her shoulder in a show of bravado that was fast fading in the face of his anger. ‘If you mean I don’t tolerate being made a fool of in my own home, then the answer is yes.’
‘Need I remind you that we’re all but separated and this is my house?’
She shrugged. ‘What’s yours is supposed to be mine too, isn’t it? I’m sure I’ve seen that tattooed on a body part somewhere.’
‘Porca miseria. You insult our guest and all you can do is crack jokes?’
‘You should’ve warned me you were sleeping with her. Maybe
