well what had made her the woman she was. Suddenly her eyes stung with tears and she blinked furiously and gritted her teeth to stop her mouth trembling.
Watching her, Cesare felt an iron band tighten around his heart. Was she stubborn enough, so determined to keep him out of her life, that she would refuse to consider his offer?
Was he, for the first time in his life, about to be denied something he’d set his mind on having? The thought that he might lose what he most wanted—Bianca Jay in his life and in his bed for as long as he wanted her there—gave him a hitherto unknown sensation of panic.
He rigorously quelled the feeling he refused to admit to, and his voice was silkily seductive as he brushed his own emotions aside and worked on hers with the skill of a master. ‘Think of an island in the sun, a beautiful villa, expert professional care for Helene. You and I together, staying close by. And we’re good together, you know we are. Keeping your part of the bargain shouldn’t be too much of a problem.’
But it would! He could have no idea how big the problem would be!
It was almost too tempting. To be where she most longed to be, a longing that went far beyond the wonder of feeling the length of his body against the arching eagerness of hers, skin against skin, mouth against mouth, a longing that went so much further, encompassing a need to be loved, a need for the total commitment he obviously couldn’t or wouldn’t give.
Unconsciously she shook her head. That deep longing belonged in the past. She couldn’t want to be loved by a man who would use blackmail to get what he wanted. She wasn’t that crazy, was she? Gathering her wandering thoughts, she forced herself to return to what he had said.
‘You talk about an island, about treatment. Where? For how long?’
She knew her voice sounded flat. Deliberately speaking in a careful monotone was the only way to stop herself railing at the man who had been her lover and who now came in the guise of an enemy. For only an enemy could make demands that would leave her heart in ruins. ‘And how do I know this professor whatever-his-name-is could help my mother?’
It all sounded too far-fetched to be believable. He was playing cruel games, he simply had to be, and how could she ever have imagined herself sinking fathoms deep in love with a man who would stoop to such measures? Nervous energy suddenly coursing through her, Bianca got to her feet and fled to the door, flinging it open. ‘Please go.’
Cesare didn’t move, but his eyes followed her every enticingly fluid movement.
She was angry now, sensationally so, her head flung proudly back on her slender neck, her glorious hair a dark and silky tangle, her eyes flashing amber warnings, her fabulous body taut, every curve lovingly highlighted by the sheen of her flimsy robe. His heart jumped in his chest and his body hardened. He had never wanted her as much as he did at this moment.
He ached to take her in his arms, rediscover every inch of her with hot masculine pleasure, to kiss her until neither of them knew where they were, to stamp his brand of ownership on her until she took back the icy statement she’d made on the night of Claudia’s birthday dinner.
It took a supreme act of will-power to get the wayward instincts of his body back under control and an act of cool determination to regain mastery of the situation. Levering himself slowly to his feet, he leant back against the delicate table, his legs crossed at the ankles, his hands deep in his pockets, facing her across the length of the room.
‘In answer to your questions, Professor Vaccari is the best there is. I would not have retained his services for an unspecified length of time had that not been the case. And my island is off the coast of Sicily—a few acres only, but beautiful. The villa will supply all the luxury Helene could want, with the added benefit of being isolated from the temptations of the dubious pleasures of city nightlife. Helene will receive expert and sympathetic counselling, on that you have my word. You and I will be close at hand. You will see her every day to judge her progress back to full health and ensure that she doesn’t feel entirely cut off amongst strangers. And you will come to my bed whenever I call,’ he taunted softly.
Bianca ground her teeth together until her jaw ached. She was seeing a side of Cesare Andriotti she didn’t like at all, a side she had never guessed at during the time she had been slowly but only too surely falling in love with him. Arrogance was too tame a word to describe the way he was backing her into a corner.
Dimly aware of the sound of movement in the main body of the house, the aroma of coffee and toast that meant Jeanne was up and about and making breakfast, she closed the door. Expecting him to take his marching orders had been a futile exercise, and one she was deeply regretting now. It made her look a complete loser.
But she wasn’t a loser, or not completely. She jerked her chin up, levelling him an icy glance down the short length of her elegant nose. ‘To pay for Helene’s treatment I spend my nights in your bed,’ she stated grimly. ‘It seems small recompense for the amount of hard cash you’ll be laying out. Do you think you can just dig into the bottomless Andriotti coffers and buy what you want?’
His eyes gleamed darkly. Dio, he had never paid for a woman in his life, but he would willingly bankrupt himself for this woman to avenge himself for the way she had so insultingly dismissed him from her life.
Drawling deliberately, he countered, ‘It is what people do, I think. See commodities they want and go out and buy them.’
So she was a ‘commodity’ now, was she? she fulminated angrily, then felt her shoulders sag in a draining kind of despair because when it came right down to it that was all she’d ever been to him. Or ever could be. The only anomaly being, in her case, her outright refusal to accept the gifts—the ‘payments’—he’d tried to lavish on her.
Wrapping her arms around her body, she leant back against the door, her eyes closing as she tried to find a way out of this humiliating nightmare. As far as Helene was concerned, what he was suggesting sounded ideal. A luxurious villa on an idyllic island, fresh air, sunshine and someone sympathetic and qualified to help her back to health, back to a sensibly constructive as opposed to a destructive lifestyle.
The only impossible downside would be having to share Cesare’s bed. Not a problem in the past—even now she could feel her body’s response to the memories of how it had been for them—but now being forced into compliance to his will, knowing she was being bought and paid for, a victim of his cruel games, waking every morning to wonder if today would be the day when he told her he had tired of her. Part of her hoping it would be, the other part wanting him to stay with her for ever.
But would sleeping with him for her mother’s sake be a problem? her weary mind slotted in. Her past attempts to get her mother to see her GP had met with total failure. But an Italian island belonging to the wealthy Andriotti family, luxury on tap, a few sessions with the top man in his field would appeal to the part of her that was firmly stuck back in her heyday, the universally envied wife of a handsome millionaire. She would feel special and pampered, not just a number in a long NHS queue.
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