Silence for a second. Then an unexpectedly husky voice made his belly clamp tight. ‘Thank you. I’ll have what you’re having.’
Her voice was pure sexual invitation. That raspy whisper belonged to a lounge singer in some smoky bar, all decadent invitation and sultry innuendo.
Cesare swallowed, annoyed to find his pulse racing and his collar too tight. As if he’d never had a woman before. As if he were the nineteen-year-old and she twenty-seven.
As if he didn’t know about grasping women.
Or the dangers of letting lust conquer common sense.
Yet, to his amazement, Cesare was in half a mind to dispense with the preliminaries and take her now, hard and fast, right where she stood. Or maybe against the window with the lights of Rome at her back where anyone looking up from the piazza could see him debauching her.
The turbulent emotions he’d held in harness all day were close to detonation point.
That realisation steadied his hand as he poured them both a glass of Sangiovese. Cesare hadn’t come this far to bend at the first provocation. No matter how tempting.
He’dlearned the dangers of losing control. If his dead father had done the same, the family wouldn’t be in this predicament.
He swung around, a glass in each hand, to find her still standing in the centre of the room. Did she know the overhead light turned her hair to glorious fire? Or that it revealed her pebbled nipples beneath that shimmering slip of nothing?
Undoubtedly. Ida was an expert at managing her appearance. Demure dresses in pastel shades before their wedding, emphasising her youth and apparent innocence. And today’s bridal dress, a mix of virgin and vamp designed to mess with his head.
Cesare passed her a glass, ignoring the frisson of sensation when their fingers touched. He raised his glass and took a sip, savouring the wine. Its familiarity steadied him. It was from the family vineyard, a reminder of things he’d once taken for granted that were under threat.
Not for much longer, if his plans succeeded.
‘Are you coming to bed soon?’
Her soft voice was pure temptation. She looked at him with big eyes and he wondered how often she’d used that look to get what she wanted.
But he, Cesare Brunetti, was not at her beck and call.
‘No. I have work to do.’
Her eyebrows wrinkled into a frown. To his annoyance that only made her look cute as well as sexy. He felt a growl of vexation build at the back of his throat.
‘But it’s our wedding night!’
‘And?’
He shouldn’t enjoy her look of dismay quite so much. But after the stresses of the past months, it was one tiny pleasure to give in, just a little, to his white-hot anger. She and her grandfather thought they could yank his chain and have him obey like a whipped dog. He’d had no choice about this marriage but, no matter what the temptation,hecontrolled his sex life.
Cesare took another sip of wine, savouring the rich flavour. That was one success at least. Even if the rest of his plans failed, today he’d secured the vineyard and the jobs of all the workers there. As for the rest of the Brunetti holdings—
‘And...don’t you want...?’
She shook her head as if too shy to speak plainly. The idea would have amused him if he weren’t fed up with pretence.
‘Don’t I want sex, do you mean?’
Cesare let his gaze travel deliberately down her slender body. He reached her bare feet with their pale pink painted toenails, then trailed his stare back to her face. Her cheeks were flushed and her neck blotchy with heat.
So, she wasn’t quite as poised as she appeared.
‘I like sex,’ he said slowly. ‘But I have my standards.’
‘Sorry?’
She flinched and a few drops of wine spattered across the gleaming silk she wore.