‘I’m sure it will.’ He moved between her and the door. ‘But you’ll stay here until then.’ He cut off her protest. ‘There’s a spare bedroom and bathroom.’
His phone rang just as she was about to tell him what she thought of that idea. He pulled it from his pocket, frowned at the caller ID and lifted it to his ear.
Indignation rose. He didn’t even have the decency to ignore his phone while he made his outrageous demands.
Ida stalked past him, only to slam to a halt as a hand wrapped around her wrist.
Shock filled her.
At that unexpected, unwanted touch.
And at the heat rippling under her skin. A sensation that had less to do with outrage and more to do with awareness.
Something needy stirred. Something she’d told herself she’d imagined from her short time with Cesare. It was wholly feminine, responding even to his harsh, take-charge masculinity. She hated this weakness.
She swung around, lifting her hand, about to break his hold, when she read his expression.
He spoke in Italian, brusque and decisive, then ended the call. ‘You know this man?’
He held out the phone and Ida’s blood froze at the image there.
Bruno. Her grandfather’s enforcer.
Bruno on the street outside her flat, and a second photo of him outside this magnificent hotel.
Her breath stopped.
He knew where she was. Which meant her grandfather did too. She wasn’t safe.
Ida swayed and this time Cesare’s hold wasn’t imprisoning but supportive. Dimly she was aware of him tossing his phone aside and grabbing her elbows as stress took its inevitable toll and her knees gave way.
The world rolled and she found herself floating off the floor, pressed tight against Cesare’s hard chest, his powerful arms embracing her.
She caught a hint of that lemon, cedar and man scent she remembered from years ago, and squeezed her eyes shut against an overwhelming barrage of sensations.
When she opened them he was sitting on a sofa and she was across his lap, tucked into his embrace, the thrum of his heart steady beneath her ear.
She felt undone. Tonight had been one shock after another. Her hard-won defences were unravelling, and her strength with them.
She should be pushing free, getting off Cesare’s lap and leaving.
But where would she go?
Was Bruno out there, waiting for her?
A shudder racked her and Cesare’s arms tightened. Ida told herself she didn’t like or trust this man, but it was impossible to regret the comfort of his firm hold.
It felt bizarrely as if he could keep her safe.
He who’d hurt her so badly!
‘It’s the same man, isn’t it?’
She nodded. ‘Who took the photos? The man you left behind at the flat?’
‘Lorenzo is head of my security team. He saw this guy watch us leave your flat and follow us here. Lorenzo tailed him.’
Cesare paused as if expecting her to explain. But her mind was racing, grappling with the implications.