Her chin firmed and she stood straighter. She slipped off her robe and put it neatly on a nearby chair. Then she breathed deeply and reached for the gilded door handle.
Cesare was in the luxurious sitting room. Not ensconced on a sofa, waiting for her, but on the phone, looking out over the rooftops of Rome.
The sound of his native Italian in that rich voice made her think of dark, molten chocolate and she licked her lips, wondering how he’d taste. That peck in the church had been too quick.
A quiver of arousal ran down her spine and she pressed suddenly clammy hands to her thighs.
Maybe she should have worn the robe after all. For he was still fully dressed, right down to the lovingly tailored formal black jacket that clung to his wide shoulders and tapering back.
She’d never seen Cesare in moulded-to-the-skin jeans or clinging polo shirts, yet she knew that beneath his urbane exterior was a virile man. He oozed masculinity just as he radiated confidence. Without the latter her grandfather would have steamrollered him as he did everyone else.
Ida’s gaze dropped to Cesare’s long legs, remembering the way his hard thighs had brushed hers when they danced at the reception. She’d seen heat shimmer in his gaze too.
She might be inexperienced, but she wasn’t totally naïve. It had been a look of sensual promise and she couldn’t wait for him to deliver.
Ida moved closer, bare feet silent on the thick carpet, enjoying the unaccustomed luxury of watching Cesare unobserved.
He swung around, eyes widening for a second, and satisfaction punched low in her abdomen. He’d sensed her approach. And he hadn’t been able to hide his response.
She breathed out, relieved, realising he liked what he saw. She’d aimed for sophisticated and sexy with this nightgown that skimmed rather than hugged her figure. Yet despite the fact it covered her from breastbone to knee, she’d never been so naked before anyone.
Cesare ended the call and pocketed his phone, then shoved his hands in his trouser pockets, surveying her with a stern look that made her smile falter on her lips.
‘Ida.’
Just that. Yet the way his voice deepened to a low, unfamiliar rumble tickled her senses. Surely that was a good sign?
But he made no move towards her. Nor did he make any move to undress. He hadn’t even undone his bow tie.
She swallowed. Was that something she should offer to do? Her fingertips tingled at the thought of touching him. The prospect of peeling back that snowy shirt to reveal his powerful chest jammed her breath in her lungs.
Gathering her courage, she walked closer, feeling the weight of his gaze with every step.
Did he like what he saw? She was suddenly conscious of how ordinary she was. Her curves weren’t bounteous, her height on the small side.
Mentally she shrugged off her doubts. She’d had a lifetime of her grandfather finding fault. She was determined to start her new life without that baggage.
The future was about her and Cesare. That trounced the flutter of nerves in her abdomen and she smiled.
She’d never been so happy.
She stopped before him, and Cesare felt winded. Her incandescent smile reminded him of the rising sun spilling its golden rays over his beloved Tuscan countryside.
Remarkably he felt it too, like a rush of flame igniting in his belly and shooting along his veins. Heat seared his lungs and groin as he looked into her upturned face.
Everything else vanished. The all-important plans that had to be implemented straight away if he was to achieve his goals. Thoughts of Calogero’s stranglehold on Cesare’s business, and by extension his life, ebbed from his brain as he basked in that dazzling smile and lost himself in Ida’s mesmerising pale green eyes.
She might be Calogero’s granddaughter, but she had the face of a Botticelli angel and the form of a young Venus. Rose-gold hair falling in waves around pale shoulders. A rosebud mouth. Slender curves and an aura almost of innocence that even now intrigued him.
Innocence!
That dragged him back to reality.
She couldn’t be anything like innocent. Not when she’d been a vital part of the old man’s scheme. She was the one who had joined the ancient and proud Brunetti family. As her grandfather’s heir and now as Cesare’s wife, she’d benefited from Calogero’s manipulative schemes.
Cesare spun on his heel and strode to the antique sideboard.
‘I’m having a drink. Do you want one?’