hot as a furnace.
He had stationed himself in the doorway to the interior of the suite, blocking her way. She faced him. ‘Is this your normal routine? Shower your prey with pretty gifts, promise marriage and access to untold wealth, then walk away when you get bored!’ She took a deep breath, her tone as icy as she could make it. ‘Let me pass.’
Dusk was deepening to night but she could see the slight flare of his nostrils, denoting anger. Well, tough. No man—especially a man as all-fired self confident and proud as Cesare Saracino—liked to have his faults rammed down his throat.
‘I don’t need a routine and I don’t recall asking you to marry me,’ he sliced back at her. His hands shot out to fasten on her forearms. ‘And there are a few things we ought to straighten out as it seems I’m to be cast as the bad guy,’ he announced grimly. ‘First and foremost, since it seems to be your priority, your twin was traced to a nightclub in this city. Where she worked as a so-called hostess, not a receptionist—no mention of that dubious occupation was made in her CV. No one had heard from her since she left, and the consensus was that no one cared. She was not well liked. Enquiries were made at the London store—supposedly the last full time job she held before she came to Italy—and again blanks were drawn. Her former colleagues hadn’t cared enough about her to want to keep in touch. Since then the investigation has returned to Italy. I’m sorry,’ he added more temperately as he felt the fight drain out of her. ‘Jilly may attract a certain type of man, but among women she is far from popular.’
Trying to get her head round what he was telling her, that her dazzling, outgoing sister was actively disliked by her female colleagues, she failed to resist when Cesare slipped an arm around her waist and walked her back into the living room.
Settling her into one of the armchairs, he sat on the arm of the adjacent one, the light from the overhead chandelier burnishing his raven-dark hair, throwing the sculpted bones of his spectacularly handsome face into hard masculine relief.
Milly averted her eyes. He was so beautiful, so tempting. She hated what he was implying about her twin and yet she still wanted him and she had to find some way of defending Jilly, but—
‘There can be no doubt about the signatures on the cheques she cashed,’ Cesare said flatly. ‘A handwriting expert confirmed what I believed. They were forgeries.’ Forcing himself to ignore the way her delicate skin lost all colour, he stated, ‘And, just for the record, I was never her lover.’
At that Milly straightened her spine. ‘You as good as admitted it,’ she reminded him thickly. ‘Once, early on, I addressed you as Signor Saracino and you made some snide comment about my not being so formal when I came to your bed!’ Her eyes defied him but she felt sick inside. If he’d lied about that he could have been lying about everything else.
‘True.’ A strong hand cupped her chin, forcing her to keep looking at him, and his voice softened. ‘I will not repeat the crude words she used when she appeared uninvited and unclad in my bedroom. That is what I was referring to when I still believed you were your twin. But I will tell you that I told her to get out of my sight in double quick time or she was out of a job—regardless of how Nonna had come to rely on her company. I was heartily sick of her coming on to me. I was not, and never could be, interested. Soon after that, no doubt realising she was on a loser, she disappeared. And a few days later, while doing Nonna’s accounts I noticed a couple of large withdrawals to cash. The rest you know.’
Milly closed her eyes to hide the sudden sting of tears. Her emotions were all over the place. She had been fighting it but now she knew she had to believe him. He had no need to lie.
But Jilly—it hurt her immeasurably, but she had the horrible feeling that everything he’d said to her twin’s detriment was no less than the truth.
Seeing her sister through unblinkered eyes, she had no option but to acknowledge that Jilly had taken their mother’s nest-egg, her only safety net, and had lost every penny and much more. Then those careless, airy promises to pay it back, something that had never even begun to materialise, her thoughtlessness in rarely contacting them, as if they didn’t matter, as if their having to live in a mean rented flat in severely reduced circumstances because they’d had to pay off the huge debts she’d incurred was nothing to do with her.
How she had always boasted that she could get any man she wanted. No problem.
But not this man!
The words echoed through her mind like an anthem of thanksgiving. And this man was stroking away an escaping tear with the ball of his thumb and she was choking with emotions she couldn’t put a name to, but they were real and shatteringly strong.
‘I’m sorry to have upset you, cara. But for my own sake it had to be said.’
For his sake? Too fraught to resist or even think about doing so, Milly found him standing over her, drawing her to her feet, into his gently enfolding arms.
She could have moved away if she’d wanted to. But she didn’t. She felt safe.
‘You’ve always hero-worshipped your sister,’ Cesare guessed astutely, marvelling at his self-restraint in the way he was holding her when he ached to kiss every wonderful inch of her. But for her sake he knew he had to wait until she came to terms with her relationship problems with her sister.
‘Yes, I suppose I have.’ She held her bright head back to meet the warm concern in his eyes, her own cloudy, he noted on a tide of protective warmth. ‘She was always the stronger character.’
Bossy, he mentally translated.
‘She looked out for me when we were growing up and told me to always go to her if there were problems with other kids—like bullying—and she’d sort it.’
Thereby ensuring she was the dominant one, making sure she stayed that way, he assessed, pretty sure that the selfish Jilly wouldn’t do anything without an ulterior motive, his hands taking on a will of their own and softly caressing her slim back.
‘She could stand up to Dad,’ Milly remembered quietly. ‘He was a bit of a control freak and she couldn’t always get her own way with him. But she could with Ma—she could twist her round her little finger.’ Much to their mother’s financial impoverishment, she thought with a stab of anger as she remembered the way they’d had to scratch and scrape to pay the rent and buy food.
Then, as if to make up for the ferocity of that thought, she confided shakily, ‘When you appeared threatening prosecution I had to go ahead with—’ her voice faltered, then gathered strength ‘—I had to do what I could to help her. We are twins and, believe me, whatever her faults there’s a very strong bond.’
A bond that went one way only, Cesare amended savagely, but held his tongue, promising instead, ‘When she’s found, and she will be, I won’t drag her through the courts, if it will please you. But I’ll give her such a fright that never again will she be tempted to develop sticky fingers.’
Milly closed her eyes on a rush of relief. She trusted him to keep his word. Jilly might be careless with other people’s money, careless when it came to keeping in touch with her family, dishonest—but maybe she’d been really desperate. It didn’t excuse what she’d done—but she was her sister and she still couldn’t bear to think of her having to face a prison sentence.
‘Just one other thing—’ She felt the warm brush of his lips on first one eyelid and then the other and she whimpered low in her throat in weakening response and dragged in a jerk of breath as he told
