six feet two frame. Dressed in a pristine white open-necked polo shirt and black designer jeans that hugged lean hips and disgustingly powerful thighs, he stood tall and proud like any of the hundreds of statues that graced his homeland’s capital city.
His black hair, damp from a recent shower, sprang from his forehead, looking even thicker and longer than when she’d last seen him. And he still said exactly what he thought when he felt like it and to hell with whoever heard him.
Damn him.
‘Frighten the living daylights out of my child, why don’t you?’ Ava invited with soft sarcasm, while trying to calm Annabelle’s sleepy squirming.
Eyes the colour of burnished gold shifted to Annabelle and a small grimace crossed his face. ‘She’s asleep,’ he stated.
‘Not for long if you keep growling like that. She’s been through enough, Cesare. I won’t have her upset.’
Tension radiated off his darkly tanned skin, so palpable she fought not to withdraw from it. ‘Don’t speak as if she’s a stranger to me, Ava. I know exactly what she’s been through.’ His tone was framed almost conversationally but, although his voice had lowered, the fury in his deep tawny eyes had escalated in direct proportion.
‘Forgive me for having to remind you, only you seem to have forgotten. Just as you seem to have forgotten us. Annabelle’s emotions are still fragile, so dial back the hulk-smash attitude if you please. As to what I’m playing at, I thought I’d made myself perfectly clear.’
‘Do you mean that highly informative one-line text that read: We will arrive at 2pm you sent seconds before my plane took off from Bali or the equally cryptic my plans have changed too?’ he accused, making no move to shift his imposing frame from the doorway.
‘Both.’
‘Ava...’ His voice was pure warning.
‘Seriously, are you going to move or do you intend to carry on this conversation on the doorstep? What are you doing here, anyway? You hardly come to the villa any more.’ Another sign of Cesare’s withdrawal she’d ignored for far too long. She stared into his eyes, ignoring the warning that glinted in his narrowed gaze.
‘What I’m doing here doesn’t matter. You were supposed to wait in Bali until Annabelle was given the all-clear. Then I would’ve come for you.’
‘The doctor gave Annabelle the all-clear three days ago.’
Surprise lit his eyes, then he looked beyond her shoulder to the car, his gaze searching. ‘And Rita?’
‘She was having nightmares of the earthquake. Once she was discharged from hospital, I booked her a flight home to London. She’s racked with guilt—she thinks she failed Annabelle because she let go of her when the tremors started...’ Recalling the nanny’s inconsolable distress, a lance of pain—one of many that seemed ever ready to cause damage—went through her. ‘I thought it was easier this way.’
Despite his grim look, Cesare nodded. ‘I’ll make sure she receives the proper treatment and severance package. But you didn’t have to make this journey yet—’
‘No, Cesare. Rita wasn’t the only one who needed the comfort of home. You were supposed to return to Bali two weeks ago, only you were in Singapore, then in New York.’
He shoved a hand through his hair. ‘This isn’t really a good time for us to be doing this.’
‘There hasn’t been a good time for a very long time, Cesare.’ A wave of sadness threatened to drown her but she straightened her spine and stood tall.
Tendrils of hair clung to her neck. Against her bare shoulders, the late afternoon sun singed her skin. If she didn’t get out of the northern Italian sun, she’d be as red as a lobster by morning. ‘We’re home now. You should thank me for saving you the trouble. Now, are you going to deal with it or has being under one roof with us become a problem for you?’
His nostrils flared and his gaze dropped to Annabelle. ‘It isn’t a problem.’
Ava’s grip tightened around her precious bundle. ‘That’s a relief. I’d hate for you to be inconvenienced.’
With Annabelle getting heavier by the second, the weariness of trying to keep a nearly-four-year-old entertained on a twelve-hour plane journey dug bone-deep. But she struggled not to show any weakness as Cesare continued to glare at her, his impressive body blocking the massive oak doorway to the Villa di Goia.
‘Ava, we should’ve discussed this properly—’
‘It’s a good thing I’m not paranoid, Cesare, or I’d think you were trying to avoid me more than usual,’ she snapped. When he didn’t refute the allegation, a shaft of ice pierced her heart. ‘I think you’re right, maybe this isn’t the time to do this. I’ll take Annabelle to my studio for a few hours. Let me know when you leave and we’ll come home.’
She’d barely moved a step when a hand closed over her arm and jerked her back. She landed against hard, lean muscle. The scent that filled her nostrils was pure Cesare. A mixture of sandalwood aftershave and man, it attacked her senses with the force of a spinning hurricane.
‘No. Annabelle stays here with me.’ Tension shimmered from the body plastered against hers.
‘If you think I’m letting her out of my sight after what she’s been through, you’re seriously deluded.’ She tried to pull away. He held on.
Heat spiralled upward, surging through her blood like wildfire. The sensation, familiar yet unexpected, made her stumble. Cesare’s hand tightened, one hand coming to rest gently on Annabelle’s back as he steadied them both.
Pulse hammering, she glanced up. Dark emotion flashed through his eyes, quickly smothered but nevertheless sparking along her every nerve ending. The breath she sucked in felt as dry as the desert. Fresh tingles shot down her spine and she forced a swallow to ease the restriction in her throat as he continued to hold her prisoner.
‘I’ll give you ten minutes to tell me of these new plans of yours, then—’
‘No, this is how it’s going to work. First, I put Annabelle down for her nap. Then we can have a civilised conversation.’
He gave a low, deadly chuckle. ‘Civilised?’ His warm breath brushed her ear, sending heat-filled tremors coursing through her body. ‘Remember how we met, cara?’
Sensation drenched her. Instantly she was wrenched back to their first explosive meeting.
He’d almost run her down at a pedestrian crossing because she’d been distracted by the stunning architecture of a centuries-old building she’d been trying to capture on her camera. The combination of near-death experience and the impact of his stunning looks had made her slam her fists down hard on the sun-baked bonnet of his blood-red Maserati.
His fury as he’d stepped out of his car to examine the damage had swiftly morphed into something even more dangerous, forbiddingly thrilling. ‘We barely exchanged names before we were tearing each other’s clothes off. Dio mio, you lost your virginity to me on the bonnet of my car within hours of us meeting!’
Memory’s flames burned from head to toe. ‘Is there a point to this?’
