No wonder she’d let Cesare lead her to his car without protest. She could only be grateful he’d left his bodyguard to keep an eye on the flat lest Bruno return. Cesare’s thoughtfulness in protecting Jo had been unexpected. The flat that had been her refuge now felt flimsy and unsafe. Bruno was looking for her, right at her building, and she was terrified.
Ida shuddered as memories teased her. The way her grandfather had squashed her tentative bid for a little freedom when she was sixteen. He’d threatened to teach her obedience by giving her to Bruno, his hulk of a bodyguard, for a night.
She’d seen Bruno in action with anyone who got too close to Fausto Calogero. The ex-convict was quick and violent. That afternoon he’d leered and licked his lips ostentatiously as he’d stripped her naked with his eyes. Then the two men had laughed as she’d scurried to her room.
You think you’re safer with Cesare Brunetti?
The voice in her head goaded and she turned, surveying the figure on the other side of the seat. Even in the gloom he looked imposing as he ignored her, talking on the phone in low, liquid Italian. Her heart gave a little fluttery roll as passing lights defined his handsome, hard profile.
Some things hadn’t changed.
She hated the way she still felt vulnerable around him, those old hormonal responses still there under the surface. But surely that was just a sense memory, a remnant of the crush she’d once had on him.
More importantly shedidfeel safe with him.
He might be cold and condescending. They might detest each other. But Cesare Brunetti wasn’t like her grandfather or Bruno. He wasn’t violent. He wasn’t a criminal with no compunction.
What was the worst he could do to her? Give her a stern talking-to?
Ida thought of the way he’d spoken to Jo, reassuring her, taking his time to put her at ease. He’d made it seem easy, which was remarkable given his impressive height and Jo’s nervousness after the assault that had left her battered and wary.
Ida closed her eyes and let her head loll against the back of the seat.
She’d told herself for so long that she was free of Cesare. He’d probably instituted divorce proceedings the day she left. He’d certainly washed his hands of her, and she was glad.
Yet from the moment tonight when she’d looked up into dark velvet eyes, she’d realised that was a lie.
In four years she hadn’t dated. She’d told herself she was too busy keeping a roof over her head and food in her body, but that unmistakable sensation of heat unfurling as she met Cesare’s eyes gave another reason.
However much she disliked the man, she was still attracted to him.
What a nightmare!
Could tonight get any worse?
‘We’re here.’
That deep voice lassoed her around the middle, pulling tight as if to draw her close. Ida snapped her eyes open and goggled when she saw where they were.
A man in a long uniform coat and tall hat opened the door. ‘Ma’am.’
He didn’t precisely bow, but his gesture was a mixture of welcome and deference, and she found herself swinging her legs out of the car, grateful she still wore her raincoat over the fishnet tights and ultra-short miniskirt.
‘Thank you.’
Then Cesare was beside her. He looped her arm through his and they stepped into a world of hushed luxury.
Ida had never been here, but she’d heard of this iconic hotel. She could only be thankful that at this hour the foyer was empty.
A receptionist greeted them, but Ida kept her head averted, conscious of the image she projected with her laden make-up and hated fishnets.
Ida had never liked the limelight. She wasn’t shy but for most of her life she’d felt like she didn’t belong.
Her mouth twisted. Here it was the truth. She didnotbelong in one of the country’s most exclusive hotels.
Yet Ida refused to let Cesare know how weary and nervous she felt. She stiffened her backbone.
She’d get through the next half-hour, deal with whatever problem Cesare posed and then go home, ditch the make-up and awful clothes, and work out what to do about Bruno.