recognising the lines of grief that still creased his brow and grooved beside his nose and mouth.
The last three months hadn’t been easy for either of them—the unexpected death of her brother Simon in a car accident having ripped their lives apart.
It was a loss that neither of them had come to terms with yet, and perhaps they never would completely. But she had persuaded her father to come to this charity dinner with her this evening—had felt that it was time they picked up the threads of their lives again, and that it was what Simon would have wanted.
‘Anyway, let’s forget about that for now and get back to your handsome dark-eyed stranger.’ Her father deliberately infused jollity into his tone. ‘Which one is he?’ He turned to look across the room crowded with socialites who had paid five thousand pounds a head to attend this event this evening.
‘You can’t miss him,’ Robin replied ruefully, as she once again found herself the focus of eyes so dark that they appeared almost black. ‘Tall. Very tall,’ she amended as she realised the man stood several inches above most of the other men in the room. ‘Probably aged in his late thirties. With slightly overlong dark hair,’ she elaborated, affected by his glittering dark eyes. In spite of herself, a shiver of awareness ran the length of her spine. ‘He’s standing next to Peter Sheldon—what is it, Daddy?’ She turned to to her parent anxiously as she felt the way Charles’s arm suddenly tensed beneath her fingers.
‘I want you to stay well away from him, Robin!’ her father advised abruptly, and he deliberately moved so that he was standing protectively in front of her, rather than at her side.
‘But who is he?’ Robin stared up at her father, slightly taken aback by the grimness of his expression.
‘His name is Cesare Gambrelli,’ Charles bit out tensely.
Gambrelli…Why did that name sound so familiar to her?
Only the name, of course; if she had ever seen or met this man before Robin knew she would definitely have remembered him!
‘Italian, obviously,’ her father continued to explain. ‘Mega, mega-rich. Amongst other things, the owner of the Gambrelli hotel chain.’
That must be why his name sounded so familiar. Of course Robin knew of the exclusive Gambrelli hotels. She had even stayed in several of them on occasion.
But who didn’t know of the luxurious, exclusive establishments that graced most of the capital cities in the world? Or of the Gambrelli media consortium, the music and film studios, the Gambrelli airline?
And this man, Cesare Gambrelli, the man who had been staring at her so intently, was the owner of all of them…
Although that didn’t explain her father’s obvious aversion to him.
‘I don’t understand,’ she said, puzzled. ‘What—Don’t look now, Daddy,’ she exclaimed in a low voice, ‘but I think he’s coming over!’
At five feet ten inches tall, in her three-inch heeled white strappy sandals, Robin could quite easily see over her father’s shoulder that Cesare Gambrelli was making his way deliberately across the room towards them.
‘Charles,’ Cesare greeted the older man emotionlessly as he moved to stand between father and daughter, making no effort to offer the older man his hand before turning to look at Robin Ingram with narrowed dark eyes. ‘And I believe this is your beautiful daughter…?’ he enquired smoothly.
‘This is Robin, yes.’ Charles Ingram was obviously rattled by his sudden appearance. ‘I’m surprised to see you at an event like this one, Gambrelli.’
Cesare ran his vision slowly over the flawless features of Robin Ingram—the sensual pout of the fullness of her mouth was seductive, and those violet-coloured eyes were as beautifully alluring, the creamy swell of her breasts as full and tempting, as he had imagined! Then he slowly returned his attention to the older man. ‘You think me an uncharitable man, Charles?’ he challenged.
Robin had sensed already what her father thought of this man, and that impression was enhanced after only a couple of minutes in his company—he was dangerous!
A tall, dark, deadly predator!
And the most handsome man she had ever set eyes on. His eyes were so dark they appeared black, his nose was aquiline, his sculptured lips hard and unyielding, his chin square and determined, and his hair, as dark as ebony, was brushed back from his brow to rest silkily on the white collar of his evening shirt. His shoulders were wide and muscled, his body lithe and powerful. But he was also, without a doubt, the most dangerous looking man Robin had ever seen!
The way he had looked at her just now—those dark eyes had dissected every creamy curve of her face before lingering slightly suggestively on the warm swell of her breasts above the strapless white dress she wore—had only succeeded in deepening her awareness of him.
In fact, she could still feel the slight flush to her cheeks, and her breathing was uneven. Caused not by embarrassment or awkwardness in his company, but by the sharp, stinging sexual awareness which hardened her nipples and encouraged a moist heat between her thighs!
‘Not at all.’ Her father was answering Cesare dismissively. ‘But this dinner is in aid of a British charity—and charity begins at home, doesn’t it?’
That sculptured mouth tightened slightly. ‘So the saying goes,’ Cesare Gambrelli acknowledged softly. ‘But you are wrong concerning my nationality, Charles,’ he added. ‘I am Sicilian, not Italian.’
Robin was aware of her father swallowing hard as Cesare Gambrelli silkily supplied this information, at the same time realising there was an increase in her father’s tension at the challenge that could clearly be heard in the other man’s honey-coated voice.
What was going on here? Because it was clear to her that something other than surface conversation was simmering between these two men.
There was a friction, a double meaning to their exchange, that implied they weren’t talking about this charity dinner at all, but something much deeper…
‘My mistake,’ her father murmured in reply to the other man’s comment.
A costly one, as far as Cesare was concerned. Sicilian men were not known for their forgiveness. As Cesare did not forgive the Ingram family for taking his sister from him—for taking Marco’s mother from him.
‘You are enjoying the evening so far, Miss Ingram?’ Cesare deliberately turned his full attention on Robin, knowing by the way her breasts had tautened and hardened against the soft material of her gown, their quick rise and fall as she breathed, that although she was aware of the tension between her father and himself, she was also sexually aware of him.
Good, Cesare noted with inner satisfaction.
He hadn’t completely rethought his plans yet, but he already knew that his plans for revenge were no longer set so rigidly on Charles Ingram. The beautiful Robin Ingram offered a much more enjoyable form of revenge than her father ever could.
‘Yes—thank you,’ she answered huskily, and she lowered long dark lashes over her violet-coloured eyes.
Modestly. Shyly. Almost coyly. And yet Cesare already knew that Robin Ingram was none of those things.
Peter
