shoes, she went in search of Ciro, vaguely wondering if it had all been a dream and she’d find herself back in London.
Liar, whispered an inner voice, you don’t want it to be a dream.
She ignored it.
But when she walked into the big living and dining area reality was like a punch to the gut. This was no dream.
Ciro was sitting at the top of a huge table with breakfast laid out before him, reading a newspaper. His legs were stretched out and crossed at the ankle and he was looking as relaxed as if it was totally normal to have whisked your ex-fiancée off to another city straight after the funeral of her husband because you were bent on retribution.
He looked up when she approached the table and Lara immediately felt self-conscious. She wished she had some kind of armour to protect herself from that laser-like brown gaze.
He stood up and pulled out a chair to the right of his. Ever the gentleman. Lara murmured her thanks and sat down. The housekeeper appeared and poured her some coffee. Lara forced a smile and said her thanks in Italian, but the housekeeper barely acknowledged her.
‘She’s deaf.’
It took a second for Lara to realise that Ciro had spoken. She looked at him. ‘What?’
‘Sophia...my housekeeper. She’s deaf. Which is why it can sometimes feel like she’s being rude when she doesn’t acknowledge you.’
‘Oh.’
‘I’m telling you because I don’t want you to upset her.’
Affronted, Lara said, ‘Why would I upset her?’
‘Just don’t.’
It struck at Lara somewhere very vulnerable to hear Ciro defend his housekeeper. It struck her even deeper that he would think her capable of being rude to someone with a disability. But then, she’d given him that impression, hadn’t she? When she’d convinced him she’d been with him purely for her own entertainment.
‘You didn’t have much luggage.’
Lara felt a flush working its way up her body. A burn of shame and humiliation. ‘I brought what I needed.’
Ciro inclined his head. ‘And I guess you’re counting on me buying you an entirely new wardrobe of all the latest fashions.’
She hated the smug cynicism in his voice, but she wasn’t about to explain that once her husband had become incapacitated, and blamed her, she’d been reduced to being little more than unpaid help. With very little money of her own, and none from her husband, Lara had had to resort to selling her clothes and jewellery online to try and make money when she needed it.
At one point when she’d needed money for something she’d had to sell her mother’s wedding dress—a beloved heirloom that she’d always hoped to wear when she married for love, and not because she was being forced into it. The fact that it was gone for ever seemed darkly apt.
Ciro took a sip of coffee. ‘You’ll need to look the part as my wife. I have standards to maintain.’
Lara realised that she wouldn’t survive for a week, let alone months, if she didn’t do something to distance herself from Ciro’s caustic cynicism and bad opinion of her. She needed to develop a hard shell around her heart. He mustn’t know how deeply he affected her or his revenge would be even more cruel.
She shrugged and affected a look of disdain. ‘Well, you couldn’t very well expect me to wear clothes two seasons out of date, could you?’
Ciro took in Lara’s expression. There she was. The Lara who had shown her true face in his hospital room two years ago. Making him the biggest fool on the planet. And yet it didn’t make him feel triumphant. Because there were those disconcerting moments when for a second she looked—
He shook his head. This was Lara Templeton. Spoilt and manipulative. Prepared to marry a man just because he was from the right side of society.
‘I’ve arranged for a stylist to come and take you shopping today. You’ll also be fitted for your wedding dress. I’ve pre-approved the design, so you don’t have a choice, Lara. I want to make sure you’re suitably attired for this wedding.’
Suddenly the disdain was gone. ‘What will people think of me? Marrying again so soon?’
‘They’ll think you’re a woman who has a strong sense of self-preservation. And they’ll think you’re a woman who knows she made a bad choice and is now rectifying the situation.’
‘They’ll think I’m nothing but a gold-digger.’
Ciro tensed. ‘You walked out on your injured fiancé to marry a man old enough to be your father within weeks of the day our own wedding was due to take place, so don’t try to pretend a sudden concern about what people think.’
Lara’s cheeks whitened dramatically, but Ciro put it down to anger at the fact that he could see right through her.
He hated it that he was so aware of her with every pulse of blood through his veins. He had no control over it. It hardened his body, made him a slave to his libido.
She wasn’t even trying to entice him. He wasn’t used to women not preening around him. Or he hadn’t been until he’d met Lara and she’d stunned him with her fresh-faced beauty.
She was fresh-faced this morning, with not a scrap of make-up, right down to the slightly puffy eyes. Something about that irritated him intensely. It was as if she was mocking him all over again. As if she knew that she didn’t even have to make an effort to have an effect on him.
He gestured towards her with a hand. ‘I don’t know what you’re angling for with this lack of effort in your personal appearance, Lara. But after you’ve met with the stylist, and once we are married, I’ll expect a more...polished result.’
Her eyes flashed bright blue at that. And then she lowered them in a parody of being demure. ‘Of course.’
That irritated him even more. It was as if there was some subtext going on that he wasn’t privy to.
He stood up. ‘I have back-to-back meetings all day at my head office. If you need anything, this is my private secretary’s number.’
He put a card down on the table in front of her. Lara picked it up. Was it his imagination or was there a slight tremor in her hand?
She still didn’t look at him as she said, ‘So not even your fiancée gets your personal number?’
He reached down and tipped up her face with a finger under her chin, ‘Oh, some people have my personal number, Lara. The people I trust most in the world. I have a business dinner this evening, so don’t wait up. The marriage will take place this Saturday, so you’ll be kept busy between now and then.’
This Saturday.
Lara jerked her chin away from Ciro’s finger. Even that small touch was lighting her insides on fire. Not to mention the nearness of the whipcord strength of his body, evident even though he was dressed in business attire of dark trousers and a white
