built inside him, pushing aside his pain. Cesare welcomed it. ‘I was there, Ava.’
Her face hardened and she folded her arms around her ribcage. ‘You mean just like you’re here now? In the same room but wishing you were somewhere else?’
His jaw tightened. Ava would never know how difficult it had been to keep from roaring his gut-ripping pain when he’d believed Annabelle was lost to him. She thought him cold. But he’d had to be, he’d had to shut off his emotions, to shut off any hint of yearning for what he couldn’t have.
Except for Annabelle.
His daughter was the one thing he wasn’t prepared to give up.
It’d taken him years to finally heed the warning he’d blindly ignored. To accept that he had no business taking a wife, never mind fathering a child.
He might be astute when it came to business but his personal relationships had always come at a price. A very steep price, he’d come to realise.
‘And now you’ve decided you want your daughter you think you can just click your fingers to make it happen?’
‘It was always going to happen. I’m sorry if you believed otherwise.’ The horrendous events of the past few weeks had painfully brought home to him that Annabelle was the only child he’d ever have. And now she was here—albeit earlier than he’d anticipated—he had no intention of letting her go.
‘Your arrogance is astounding, you know that?’
‘Isn’t it one of the things about me that turns you on?’ He had the fleeting satisfaction of watching colour surge under her skin. Anger soon replaced her blush.
‘Dream on. Your attraction level has dropped lower than the temperatures in the Antarctic.’
His fiery moglie had the tendency to lash out first and think about the consequences later. Wasn’t that what had drawn him to her in the first place? Her vibrancy? Her blind, uncontrollable passion for life?
He sidestepped that reminder.
With a swish of her brightly coloured skirt, she stalked to the window. Cesare caught himself following the sway of her hips and reined himself in. Things were fast getting out of hand.
Again.
Their first meeting had been a heady, mind-blowing experience. She’d been a potion to end all sweet potions, lighting up his days, blazing through his nights like a spectacular comet. Against his every instinct, he’d let his guard down.
Once again he’d let a woman get under his skin. Something he’d sworn to himself and to his brother, Roberto, he’d never let happen again.
Cesare had walked out of his last meeting in Abu Dhabi the minute he’d learned Ava had summoned his plane. He’d even contemplated ordering his pilot to return her to Bali. But he’d known she would’ve found another way of achieving her goal.
She turned, arms folded in battle stance. He suppressed a grim smile. His Ava hadn’t changed. Corner her and the fierce lioness emerged.
Except she wasn’t his. He never should’ve taken her in the first place—although the exhilaration of being her first lover still made his blood pump faster—never should’ve placed the di Goia emerald on her finger...
His gaze fell to her bare fingers. ‘Where is your wedding ring?’ The burning need to know erased every other thought from his head.
Surprise widened eyes the same colour as the famous di Goia family heirloom. ‘My wedding ring?’ she echoed.
‘Sì. Where is it?’
‘In a box...somewhere. What does it matter?’ she challenged.
Cesare had the completely irrational urge to grab her arms and shake her, demand to know why the ring wasn’t on her finger. Instead, he jammed his fists into his pockets and forced himself to stay put.
‘Just checking that you hadn’t donated it to the commune you were growing fond of in Bali.’
Her arms tightened. ‘I’m glad to see you think so highly of me, Cesare. And I don’t need to pawn your jewellery off to help the causes I believe in. I’m more than well compensated for my job to fund my charitable endeavours.’
Did she realise how gripping her arms so tightly pushed her breasts up, so they looked even fuller, more tempting? The faint outline of her areolas against the white of her cotton halter top and the faint freckles marching across her chest sent the pulse kicking in his groin.
‘Do you have a lover?’
Dio, where the hell had that come from? He raked unsteady fingers through his hair, the sheer astonishment his question caused clearly reflected in the slack-jawed look on Ava’s face. But then was it really that astonishing? They’d spent so much time apart in the past year, he didn’t even know which circle of friends she moved in these days.
Whose fault is that?
Her hand fluttered to her neck, crept around to her nape and flipped her flaming hair over one shoulder. He followed the movement, his fascination with the ripple of sunlight through the long tresses causing him to tense further.
‘Don’t you dare go there with me, Cesare,’ she snapped.
Her non-answer made jealousy sear his insides. He’d distanced himself from her. She should be free to take other lovers. So why did his gut clench in sharp rejection of the idea?
‘Why? Did the commune make you sign an oath of secrecy?’
‘It wasn’t a commune. And the people there are—’
‘Eat, pray, love advocates?’
‘No, believe it or not, they’re professionals who’ve given up their time to help better the lives of others, especially the victims of the earthquake.’
‘In the hope of finding themselves in the process?’
Her lips firmed. ‘We can’t all find ourselves in the next multi-billion euro deal, Cesare. Why did you abandon your daughter?’
He gripped his nape, renewed tension clawing through him. ‘I thought it was better that I stay away. If it makes you feel better, call it an error of judgement on my part and leave it be.’
The understatement of the millennia. Marriage to Ava, Dio, to any woman, had never been on the cards for him. Not after what he’d put Roberto through. Not after Valentina...
In some ways, while he regretted the devastation it had wrought on countless lives, the earthquake had been his wake up call. His head had been wrenched violently from the sand. And now he had the rest of his life to made amends to his daughter.
‘An error of judgement?’ Ava shot back immediately, like a damned terrier intent on ravaging its favourite toy. ‘Does that include our marriage?’ she demanded.
Ignoring her, he strode to the drinks cabinet, curbing the urge to pour something stiff and bracing. He’d drunk himself into a stupor more than once this past year. He couldn’t afford to do so
