His hand shot out to shackle her wrist and she jerked away. ‘Don’ttouch me, Cesare!’
She half lifted the bottle as if daring him to try and saw surprise widen those narrowed eyes. Behind him his bodyguard shifted as if ready to intervene.
Ida had never hit anyone in her life. The thought made her feel nauseous. But they weren’t to know.
How dared he come in here making demands, treating her like a possession? Disrupting her life after all this time?
A bruised corner of her heart silently keened at the way the sight of him opened up all the pain she’d tried to put behind her. She’d told herself that was in the past. That she was over him and that the pain, shame and distress his revelations had caused were long gone.
Now she knew better.
With a shuddering breath that actually hurt, given the tight lacing of Jo’s clothes, she broke eye contact, focusing on the whisky.
By some miracle her hand was steady. As if the roiling nerves inside didn’t exist. But then, from the age of eight she’d been perfecting the art of not revealing her feelings when she was upset or afraid.
Except with Cesare. That night in Rome he’d undone her with his words and his contempt. Because that day she’d actually imagined herself free from all the bad things, free to start a new life the way she wanted to live it.
‘You shouldn’t be here.’
His voice was low, rippling over her bare shoulders and the top of her spine like a wintry breeze, drawing her flesh tight.
‘It’s none of your business.’
She didn’t bother looking up, just poured the last glass and slid the tray away, nodding to the waitress who’d come to collect it.
Ida watched the other woman’s gaze trace Cesare’s tall form, snagging on his wide shoulders in his custom-made suit and that chiselled profile. Finally, after lingering longer than necessary, she lifted the tray and sauntered off with an exaggerated swing of the hips.
‘What I do hasn’t been your business for four years,’ Ida added, turning to put the bottle back.
‘That’s where you’re wrong, Ida. You’re still very much my business, whether you want it to be or not.’
She froze, heart hammering against her ribs. Her skimpy outfit was no protection against his scathing stare. She couldfeelit, like an ice cube sliding down her spine and chilling her marrow.
Ida firmed her jaw and lifted her chin. She’d done nothing wrong. She had nothing to be ashamed of.
‘Here you are, Maddy.’ Mike was at her side, her wages in his big hand. Relief flooded her. For a moment she’d imagined leaving without the cash they needed for the rent. He leaned closer. ‘Are you really okay?’
Wordlessly she nodded, his concern touching her.
When she’d first come here Mike, with his brawn and pugnacious air, had made her nervous but she’d been so grateful for his presence.
‘Fine, thanks. I’m sorry for leaving early.’
He shook his head. ‘Don’t fret. But tell Jo to be on time next week.’
She nodded. ‘Will do. Bye, Mike. Thanks for everything.’
Cesare’s eyes narrowed as he watched the interplay between Ida and the burly guy who’d positioned himself as Ida’s champion. Againsthim, her husband!
He felt all sorts of wrong inside. Flummoxed by a riot of unfamiliar feelings. Undone by the surge of anger that, for only the second time he could recall, he had trouble harnessing. The last time had been his wedding night, when Ida had sauntered in, ready for sex, and he’d unleashed his pent-up fury at Calogero’s machinations.
He’d been so tempted by her, despite what she represented.
Why was it that with this one woman Cesare’s control shattered? At other times his words and actions were careful and considered. He prided himself on his cool head, never being led by emotions. He’d not have been able to deal with Calogero otherwise.
He watched her shrug into a long raincoat, belting it tight around that narrow waist, and the answer came to him.
Because this woman gets under your skin as no one ever has.