‘That’s no excuse.’
‘True. I pride myself on keeping an even temper and not responding to provocation. But that night...’ He shook his head. ‘Anger and thwarted sexual attraction are a dangerous mix.’
Thwarted attraction? He’d wanted her that night?
It shouldn’t colour her thinking yet the primitive part of Ida yearning for Cesare’s touch swelled in triumph. It didn’t negate his behaviour, but it was a tiny salve to her pride.
‘You think sharing a belated wedding night will help you move on?’ She tried to sound cynical but feared her husky voice told a different story.
‘Helpus, Ida. This is mutual. You know it is.’
She looked away, not liking the stirring in her blood. ‘It’s an interesting idea. I’ll give it some thought.’
‘Just so we’re absolutely clear, I won’t ask again.’ She felt her eyes widen and turned back to him. ‘I won’t pressure you. You’re not obliged to sleep with me for my protection.’ On the wordssleep with mehis eyelids drooped, giving his eyes a lazy, suggestive gleam that made her stomach twist in eager corkscrews. ‘The choice of when we get together will be entirely yours.’
Whennotif?
He had the arrogance of the devil. Indignation stirred. As if she’d give herself to a man so self-satisfied!
Something flickered in his expression. Amusement? Impatience?
She was on the point of leaving the room when a thought hit her. Something more important than Cesare’s ego and sense of entitlement.
‘I’m glad to hear you’re willing to wait.’ Her tone told him he could wait till hell froze over and she let a smug smile curl her mouth. ‘In the meantime, I need to send something to London. Is there a local post office?’
Not that she really wanted to venture out if Bruno or someone like him was lurking in the vicinity.
‘Can’t you send a text or email?’
‘It’s not a message, it’s a parcel.’
Cesare’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. ‘You didn’t bring any luggage.’
Did he think she’d swiped one of the precious pieces of art from upstairs and hoped to post it under his nose? Ida would have smiled if she weren’t tired of his suspicions. Instead she felt it like a blade to her heart.
How could this man do that to her? He’d always made her feel too much.
Her hands found her hips and her chin hiked up. ‘I need to send Jo the clothes and shoes I wore last night.’
‘Jo, your flatmate?’
Ida nodded. Still he didn’t give her the information she needed. Was there a postal outlet here or did she have to organise a courier? That would cost more but Jo needed her gear, something Ida hadn’t considered last night when she’d let Cesare usher her onto a flight to Italy. All she’d cared about was escaping Bruno.
‘Why?’
Damn the man for being so intractable and curious. For four years he hadn’t thought about her and now he seemed determined to dig through her life.
Instinctive reticence warred with Ida’s need to do the right thing by her friend.
‘They’re Jo’s clothes, okay? I borrowed them so I could work her shifts at the club, but she needs them back.’ Jo was on a tight budget and couldn’t spare the cash to replace them, especially that leather bustier.
Ida had the satisfaction of seeing Cesare stare as if for once robbed of words. It didn’t last long.
‘Why would you want to do that?’
Ida turned away, folding her arms across her body as she stared out at the spectacular view of undulating hills. A line of dark cypress trees marked a road or boundary, and in the distance a small hilltop town looked picturesque and inviting. The scene was a mix of gentle greens and ochres under the clear blue sky and she wished she could absorb some of its glorious tranquillity.
‘Jo got mugged.’ She shivered, remembering the trip to the emergency department and the fear that her friend’s injuries might be more severe than just bruises. ‘She wasn’t well enough to work at first. Even when she improved, she couldn’t work behind the bar because make-up couldn’t hide those bruises.’