From the periphery of his vision, he caught a fleeting smile.
Aislin thought of Patrick. She’d been in desperate need of support after Orla’s accident and who better to provide it than the man who’d promised eternal love? His reaction had been to sleep with her housemate instead.
Her mother hadn’t reacted at all. Her daughter and grandson had both hovered between life and death and all she’d done was send a few text messages. Aislin didn’t think she’d ever forgive her mother for that.
No one had been there for Aislin, not her friends or extended family beyond the obvious platitudes.
She’d carried the burden alone. It had been a hard knock to deal with. Unlike Dante and his declaration that no one could be trusted, she knew she could trust her sister with her life. But she would not trust anyone else again, not in an emotional capacity.
‘Your father made mistakes, and I understand why you’re so angry with him,’ she said. ‘It only makes it harder that he isn’t here to answer your questions or defend himself but don’t ever lose sight of the fact that he loved you. I would have given anything to have the closeness you two shared with one of my parents. My mum never wanted to be a mum. Orla and I were both accidents and we both knew it. She married my dad because my nan forced her to—she didn’t want the shame of having two grandchildren born out of wedlock.’
‘She sounds like a formidable woman.’
Aislin remembered the outwardly terrifying woman who’d had the softest heart with a smile. ‘I adored her. Nan was the one who really raised us. She died six years ago and I still miss her.’
‘What about your father?’
‘He remarried and moved away. We get on well but it’s hard to develop a bond with someone you only see for the odd weekend.’
Dante swallowed hard to loosen his constricted throat then made the mistake of looking at her.
The moon had risen high above them. Silver light poured down and cast Aislin in a glow.
Under this bewitching light it was too easy to sink into intimacy and spill his tortured thoughts out.
Seeing Aislin like this... It would be too easy to send Ciro away, strip his clothes off, join her in the pool, haul her into his arms and...
He’d revealed enough.
He got to his feet and drained the last of his beer. ‘I’ll see you in the morning. I’m going to bed.’
But not until he’d taken a cold shower.
How was it possible to have such awareness for someone when the demons in his head were so present and vivid?
It was the situation they were in, he told himself firmly as he strolled away. As Aislin had said, no one knew how they would react to a particular situation until they were in it. He and Aislin were in a strange place, thrown together and tasked with getting to know each other well enough to fool a wedding party that they were in love. That was bound to accelerate and heighten his attraction to her.
He’d reached the stairs when he realised he’d left his phone on his seat by the pool.
Cursing, he went back for it.
Dante stepped onto the terrace and strode past the bar at the moment Aislin climbed out of the pool.
He stopped dead in his tracks.
Dio...
A plain black modestly cut swimsuit couldn’t hide a body beautiful enough to make a grown man hard on sight.
Aislin was as curvy as any man’s wildest dreams.
Blood pumped furiously, pounded in him. His mouth ran dry, palms suddenly damp, perspiration breaking out all over a torso that felt as if a furnace had been ignited in it.
Oblivious to his presence, never mind the internal havoc wreaking his fully aroused body, Aislin reached down for her towel.
A groan clutched at his throat.
Only the ends of her hair were wet and she rubbed the towel gently into it then, as she spread her arms to wrap the towel around the beautiful curvy figure, she suddenly looked in his direction and froze.