This was her property; and her cottage. Yet, in the space of an hour, Cristiano had managed to make it his.
His suit for the wedding was hanging against a window on the far side of the room; and his suitcase was placed on one of the luggage racks. He must have showered, Ava noticed belatedly, because the bathroom was still steaming and a wet towel had been hung over the door. She looked toward him distractedly and noted the change of clothes.
“I’ll just be a moment,” she murmured, moving through the cabin towards the small kitchenette.
“If you had told me the fuse box was here, I would have fixed it myself.”
She didn’t respond. What could she say? Of course Cris would have. At least, the man she’d known would have. But years had passed, and there was a whole lot of murky business sludging between them.
“It made sense to have each cottage wired independently,” she explained. “That way, if one has a problem it’s contained. It was one of the first things I did when I …” She snapped her mouth shut. She had been about to refer to her pregnancy!
“When you?” He prompted, his voice ringing with determined coldness.
“When I could afford it,” she finished, her cheeks flushing.
Ava crouched down in front of the sink and put her hand on the door. Right before it swung open, Cristiano touched her. His fingers curled around hers and he pulled her hand back from the melamine. His eyes were trained on her left hand, and Ava stared at him in shock.
The contact was terrifyingly unwelcome; it seared her soul with remembered intimacy.
“You don’t wear a ring.”
“Ring?” She frowned up at him, her senses knocked completely off course in light of the physical contact she’d spent years trying to forget.
“Your engagement ring,” he hissed, rubbing the space it had once taken.
“Oh.” She dropped her eyes from his. “No.”
“I would have thought you would never take it off.” He dropped her hand and turned away from her. “I hated that thing.” His voice was loaded with a dark emotion.
“Did you?” Her voice was husky.
“Of course. A constant reminder that you had promised yourself to a man before meeting me? Of course I hated it.” He bit back the words that had been on the tip of his tongue. He’d hated not just the ring; he’d hated the man, too.
Ava looked away. Her heart hurt. Her eyes stung. But she wouldn’t cry. Not now. Not after so long. She pulled the cabinet open forcefully and peered inside. “Just a fuse,” she said under her breath as she flicked it back into position. She ran her fingers across the others, satisfying herself that everything was as it should be, and then she backed out of the small pantry space.
Cristiano was there, crouched down behind her, so that she bumped into his broad chest and would have toppled over to the tiled floor if his large hands hadn’t reached out with lightning speed to steady her. Her breath was shallow and her eyes startled to his. He didn’t move to give her space. If anything, he inched forward, closer to her, so that she could feel his warm breath on her forehead.
She was lost in his gaze. Those same dark, chocolate eyes that had always sucked her into his orbit were hypnotising her once more. Three years after he’d stormed away from her, how could she still feel it? After all that had happened, how could it be as though an invisible rope was knotting around them and binding them together?
“Cris?” The same voice that had called him earlier was closer now. At the door? No, in his apartment.
It broke the spell. Ava slid sideways and stood, rubbing her hands down the front of her dress. “You’re back up and running.” she was spea
king quickly, joining her words together out of anxiety. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
Cristiano looked at the beautiful Australian with an increasing sense of frustration. He had thought he was prepared for this. After all, what was she to him now? Her betrayal had wounded him as nothing else in his life ever had. She was married. No more his now than she had been then.
Despite what her body had wanted, her heart had belonged to another man. And it still did.
Cindy strode confidently into the kitchen. “Hey, babe. You coming over? The champagne’s flowing fast.”
Her accent was American. Ava had a vague recollection of the woman having checked in the day before with the rest of the group. Though she couldn’t remember her name, she instantly recalled the address she’d used to confirm the booking. Napa Valley. Her heart fell, and it was only with great effort that Ava was able to keep the distress from her face.
“Sim,” he nodded, employing the affirmative in his native Portuguese, his voice husky.
“Oh, hey,” Cindy put a hand on Ava’s forearm as she went to move past her.
“Yes?” Ava’s smile was difficult to manage, but she pulled on some unknown reservoir and managed it.