‘I like to be alone.’ His voice had a rich, deep timbre. ‘And when I want company, I find some.’
Jealousy tore through her. She blinked down at the table, surprised by the potency of her reaction. ‘Of course.’
‘I’m far more interested in how a woman like you lived a celibate life.’
Fortunately, a waiter’s appearance saved her from answering. They placed their order and, by the time they were alone again, she was armed wi
th another topic of conversation, something much more banal and light, something safely distanced from anything too personal.
It felt good to keep things on easy ground. She liked talking to him, listening to him, and as long as they stayed away from anything to do with other lovers, or their personal lives, she could actually relax and enjoy the evening. It wasn’t until they’d finished their coffees and petits fours that a sense of uneasiness crept back in.
‘I’m serious, uccellina,’ he murmured, and beneath the table his hand curved over her knee, so little darts of need immediately began to spiral through her. How much she wanted him was overwhelming—it was a physical need that seemed almost unconquerable.
Combined with the glass of wine she had enjoyed with her steak, it made her feel light-headed, buzzy and ready to succumb to her desire right then and there.
‘What about?’ The words were purred, kitten-like, and she had the satisfaction of seeing his eyes lower, sensual heat passing from him to her. She leaned forward a little, aware of the way her silk dress gaped at the cleavage, feeling his gaze drop there as though he were touching her.
‘I am not a gambling man and yet I would have bet my fortune on the fact you had the same kind of sexual experience as I have.’
‘You were wrong.’
Bemusement crossed his features. ‘Evidently. Why?’
There was no side-stepping this. ‘There’s no big reason.’
‘I don’t believe that.’
‘Are you calling me a liar?’ It was light-hearted, intended to take the conversation in a different direction, but if anything his look of concentration only deepened.
‘You like to keep people at a distance,’ he said after a moment, the shift in his questioning unexpected, and all the more so for how right he was. ‘Whenever I ask you anything about your childhood, your work, your life, you shut me down. Why?’
She was tempted to deny it, but to what end? He was right. ‘Does it matter?’
He frowned. ‘Not particularly. I’m just curious as to why you would make a habit of closing people off.’
‘I don’t make a habit of closing people off...’
‘Just me?’
She bit down on her lower lip, gnawing on it thoughtfully. ‘The parameters of this—’ she pointed from her chest towards his ‘—were established at the beginning. Sex.’ She dropped her gaze again. ‘In exchange for your investment in Laurence’s hedge fund.’ Her stomach rolled with self-disgust. ‘You didn’t buy my inner secrets.’
‘You don’t think half a million pounds earns me a few secrets?’ His tone was light, joking, but the words cut deep. It was her own fault for reminding him of the financial nature of this transaction.
Bitterness coated her insides.
‘No.’ She toyed with her napkin, wishing the conversation hadn’t gone in this direction, wishing she didn’t suddenly feel like this. ‘There are some things even you can’t buy.’
* * *
Thud. Thud. Thud. His feet; his heart. Cesare ran, and his body pumped; blood, muscles, legs, regrets.
When they’d returned to the penthouse the night before it had been immaculate once more, the smell of smoke dissipated, fresh flowers placed on the bench. They’d gone to bed and he’d made love to Jemima until dawn, delighting in the feel of her body even as something unpleasant was unfurling in his mind. It was a darkness he couldn’t outrun, a presentiment of disaster he couldn’t explain.
And then there was a darkness he could understand, one he had grappled with his whole life. Cesare Durante didn’t like being told ‘no’. He didn’t like having his expectations confounded, nor did he like having to compromise.
True, this had begun as an exercise in sexual discovery. He’d wanted her physically and he hadn’t much cared about anything else. But along the way the mysteries of Jemima had begun to unravel inside him, so that he needed neatly to tie them back together in order to be able to properly forget about her.
He needed to pull her apart, piece by piece, to understand her completely. Only then would he be able to walk away.