Because he wasn’t an ogre. He didn’t like the idea of any woman in fear of a thug.
‘Because you’re afraid of him.’
Ida said nothing but her stare was eloquent. It was the wary look of a woman who’d seen too much.
Cesare felt a flare of compassion. She’d been part of the scheme to blackmail and control him but, he realised, maybe her own situation had been difficult. He thought of that investigator’s report, of a girl orphaned at eight then shuttled between a remote island and Calogero’s ostentatious London house.
‘But I’m not your responsibility. You hate me.’
Cesare didn’t deny it and for reasons Ida refused to examine, that still hurt.
Finally, he spoke. ‘You surely didn’t expect friendship from a man who was forced with threats to marry you.’
No. But she’d been such an innocent she hadn’t realised the situation. She’d imagined Cesare had at least liked her and found her attractive. She smoothed her palms down the delicate fabric of her dress. If he hadn’t revealed the truth that night in Rome, if she’d discovered he’d ordered this romantic dream of a dress for her, she might even have tumbled further into—
‘No, I don’t expect friendship.’
‘But things have changed, Ida.’
Her head snapped up and she met that steady dark gaze. ‘How?’
‘You connived against me, but we could be mutually beneficial to each other now.’
Ida contemplated telling him again that she hadn’t been privy to her grandfather’s blackmail. That she hadn’t been Cesare’s enemy. Because it hurt that he should think her to be anything like her grandfather. But he wouldn’t believe her. She had no proof, just her word.
‘Go on.’
‘You’ve fallen out with your grandfather and so have I. Our interests coincide that far at least. I’ll do whatever I can to stop him getting what he wants. If he wants you it will give me great pleasure to deny him that.’
‘You’re saying you’d keep him away from me just to thwart him?’
Something flashed in Cesare’s eyes. An expression she couldn’t read, but it made her warier than ever.
‘Is that so unlikely?’
It should be. She’d seen Cesare’s disdain for her.
Yet last night he’d acted decisively when he understood she was frightened. Surely bringing her all the way to Italy meant there was kindness beneath that steely determination?
Or was he simply another man like her grandfather, determined to win at all costs?
Ida shivered. She couldn’t blame Cesare for despising Fausto Calogero. She did too. But she’d seen how the need for revenge blackened a man’s soul, eating away any trace of decency.
Yet there was something more. Something she sensed he wasn’t telling her.
But what? She didn’t know her grandfather’s secrets. If Cesare wanted to milk her for information, he’d be disappointed.
She hadn’t even seen her grandfather since the wedding, for which she was thankful. The last four years had been a struggle, but in some ways they’d been the happiest of her life, the most free since those halcyon days before the accident when her parents had been alive.
Ida shot to her feet, emotions in such turmoil she couldn’t sit still. Doubts crowded her mind and above all the awareness of Cesare, big and predatory.
And fascinatingly male.
‘Ida?’ His deep voice grazed her skin, drawing it tight and, to her horror, making her nipples bud. Heat stroked through her, down her abdomen to that restless place between her thighs.
‘I need time to think.’
She turned away, trying to block him from her thoughts, but it was impossible. Even with him metres away she was hyper-aware of him.