me, Cesare. This...whatever’s going on between us...is it another woman?’ she persisted in that damned husky tone.
Bitter laughter escaped before he could stop it. He poured a tall glass of water and handed it to her. ‘Why do women always think it’s another woman?’
She gazed straight at him. ‘Because men are as predictable as the tide during a full moon.’
‘Would it make it easier if I said it was another woman?’
He didn’t miss the shaft of pain that flitted through her eyes. Her lips wobbled before she pursed them. But her gaze didn’t waver from his. ‘Is it?’
In a way he wished it had been as easy as infidelity. Because infidelity would mean he’d stop caring. Or wanting what he couldn’t have.
‘Turn down the Marinello gig. Return to your commune in Bali. Or take another assignment abroad. Give me the summer with Annabelle. We’ll talk when you return.’
Her eyes flashed rebellious fire at him. ‘No. Annabelle needs me. Besides, too much has happened for me to just up and leave on an assignment. I think deep down you know that.’
He silently conceded the point. The earthquake had changed things between Ava and him just as much as it’d altered his relationship towards his daughter. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, looking at Ava in battle mode he hadn’t witnessed for a long time, he knew in that instant he was screwed.
He gritted his teeth. ‘The foreign minister is a close friend. You didn’t become an Italian citizen when we married. All it would take is a single phone call and I can have you thrown out of the country. Do you realise that?’ He threw out the straw-clutching Hail Mary.
‘Yes,’ she stated simply, not in the least bit cowed. ‘But if I leave I take Annabelle with me.’
Against his will, his eyes strayed to the soft curve of her mouth. It would be as soft and supple as he remembered. Along with the rest of her.
Having her close would drive him crazy.
But the need to have his daughter close—to begin to repair the damage he’d caused outweighed all else. His internal debate lasted milliseconds.
‘Fine. We’ll both stay here for the summer.’
Her mouth dropped open, then her eyes narrowed. ‘That was a little too easy.’
‘Don’t delude yourself, Ava. This isn’t going to be easy for either of us. I know what you want and I can assure you I am unable to give it to you. What I can do is ensure Annabelle isn’t caught in the crossfire of our...situation. You understand?’
She sucked in a ragged breath and Cesare knew he’d got through to her. The late afternoon sun slanting through the windows danced over her fiery hair as she nodded.
Grimly satisfied that his control was under firm guard, he headed for the door, ruthlessly suppressing the old sensations pulling at him, reminding him that his attraction to Ava had always held a fatalistic edge that had excited him.
Doomed him. He’d let it get out of hand the same way he’d let the situation with Roberto and Valentina unravel...
‘So, does that mean you agree to a truce? That you won’t try anything double-crossy somewhere down the line?’
He turned back from the door.
Her eyes reflected a defiance that reluctantly sparked his admiration. None of his family or subordinates would dare press home their advantage this way.
But a line needed to be drawn. ‘That very much depends on you, cara. Your innate inability to not rush in where angels fear to tread could prove your undoing.’
Her lips tightened. ‘Are you calling me a fool?’
‘I’m inviting you to prove me wrong. Stay out of my way for the next six weeks and I’ll have no need to declare war on you.’
* * *
Ava frowned at the closed door, her mind a whirlpool of jumbled thoughts.
She walked over to the French windows and gazed at the sparkling infinity pool. Something was wrong with the picture Cesare was presenting her with.
Even as a newly-wed, she’d realised very quickly that business came first with Cesare. She’d lost count of the times he’d upped and left on a business trip on the strength of a single phone call.
Now, all of a sudden, he’d taken weeks off to spend his summer here.
She wanted to believe that living through a devastating earthquake had changed him...but it was painfully obvious that Cesare was determined to keep her at arm’s length.
Although his attitude towards Annabelle had changed...
Recalling his face when he’d laid their daughter down for her nap, a bittersweet emotion filled her.
If Cesare meant to spend time with Annabelle, Ava welcomed that, although she couldn’t stop the tiniest well of jealousy from rising up.
Pushing the doors open, she stepped onto the terrace. The palazzo baked in the late afternoon sun. Perfumed scents of lemon trees and the specially reared roses the team of gardeners took immense pride in mingled in the air. She inhaled deeply, letting the fragrance suffuse her senses. But the clarity she sought never materialised.
The holiday in Bali had been her last-ditch attempt to reconnect with Cesare. She’d failed spectacularly right from the get-go. That first week, he’d shut himself away in the luxury villa’s study and worked until the early hours of each morning.
On the first morning of their second week, desperate for a break from the overwhelming evidence of her failure, she’d left the villa armed with her camera. She’d been taking pictures of the beautiful local wildlife when the earthquake struck.
Her insides clenched anew at the heart-rending three days they’d searched for Annabelle and Rita.
She shuddered and blinked back the rush of tears. Ironically, she’d felt closer to Cesare in those bleak moments they’d spent ripping apart the marketplace where Rita had been strolling with Annabelle than she’d felt in a long time.
Well, Cesare had been right about one thing...she was a fool.
* * *
The staff had unpacked and folded away her clothes in the master suite on the other side of Annabelle’s room by the time she went upstairs. It took moments to confirm Cesare’s I’ve rearranged a few things didn’t mean he’d moved back into the suite they once shared but rather the one on the other side of Annabelle’s room.
Ava refused to acknowledge the knot in the pit of her stomach and undressed. The sheer gold-coloured muslin curtains that framed the queen-sized bed had been caught up with white velvet rope.
Approaching the bed, she picked up her coffee-coloured kimono-style silk gown and went into the bathroom. Bypassing the sunken marble bath, she entered the shower cubicle. After a refreshing shower, she donned an ankle-length green and white flower-patterned skirt and white top and checked on Annabelle. Finding her
