hour or two—or three—then he strode off towards the house with the sound of their children whooping as they turned their excited attention on the waiting staff.
‘An outdoor and an indoor pool?’ Cassie murmured in wonder.
‘Impressed?’ He glanced down at her.
She nodded. ‘And these…traditions you mentioned?’ she prompted.
‘A threshold to negotiate,’ he answered. ‘A marriage bed to find. And a very large, disgustingly ostentatious, very, very sexy diamond necklace to unearth from my pocket. I have other traditions to attend to,’ he added loftily, ‘but they require a few special magic words to…set them in play.’
Staring up at his cool, dark features, Cassie slid her arms a little further around his wide shoulders. The tip of her tongue appeared to run a delicate line across her upper lip. The glossy thickness of his eyelashes folded downwards to watch the telling little action, then lift upwards again to pin her with a deadly look.
Sexy, unbearably sexy, Cassie thought as her pulse began to drum to a heavier beat. Sandro stopped walking. The tension heightened, simmering like electricity between them both.
‘Well?’ he prompted.
They were still standing out in the dying sunshine, the solid shape of the villa still several long strides away. Cassie moved in his arms, snaking that bit closer to the intimate lure of his stubborn mouth. ‘You say it first.’
‘What you really want is my beating heart laid out on a platter, don’t you?’ he murmured narrowly.
‘Mmm,’ Cassie confirmed. ‘You see, I have these terrible words still rolling round my head I have not forgiven you for…’
She was referring to the telephone call. Sandro knew that, just as he knew what she was not saying here. He was going to have to work very hard to overwrite that piece of brutality.
‘You have to know, bella mia, that those words were not spoken by the man you see standing here,’ he imparted soberly. ‘That guy lost himself six long, miserable years ago and only found himself when he set eyes on you again. If you think about it, that’s a hell of a statement to make about loving you.’
Put like that, he was right, and it was one hell of a statement, Cassie acknowledged, vulnerable, river-green eyes floating over the solemn beauty of his face. Six years ago she’d fallen in love with Sandro Rossi. When she made that fatal phone call to him, a different, broken version of him had taken his place. Even when they met up again it was not that Sandro she’d fallen in love with but a guy called Alessandro Marchese—for once the different name started to make a mad kind of sense.
‘OK,’ she said softly, ‘that’s fair enough. So I love you too,’ she returned unsteadily. ‘I never stopped loving you throughout your six miserable lost years. I’m glad you found yourself again, Alessandro Marchese, and even more glad that you found me.’
The sober expression eased out of his features; a smile took its place. ‘Now, that,’ he said as he started walking again, ‘deserves a reward.’
‘Mmm,’ Cassie said, making herself more comfortable in his arms, ‘this sounds…interesting.’
The villa waited. Cassie didn’t see any of its breathtaking beauty as Sandro carried her up the wide, curving staircase. She didn’t even see the unapologetic baroque splendour of the bedroom he carried her into with its rich red velvet drapes and pale damask walls, and gilt-wood furniture set on a vast and glossy parquetry floor, or the huge bed he laid her on that was an extravagant vision hung on four corners with burnished gold silk.
She only saw the man as he came to stretch out beside her, dangling a gold chain from his long fingers with its totally ostentatious diamond droplet trailing across her mouth.
‘I’m going to make love to you until you think you’re dying,’ Sandro murmured as if it was a soft, deep, sensual threat.
Parting her lips, Cassie licked the diamond. ‘Oh, yes, please,’ Cassie said.