Cesare had already revealed a considerate side. Yet how many men, especially wealthy men, truly appreciated the work others did for them?
Her view was coloured by her grandfather, who treated staff like automatons rather than people. But interactions with rich clients in London had been the same. They expected her to be invisible as she cleaned. Most saw themselves as innately superior, ever ready to criticise but not praise or appreciate.
But not, it seemed, Cesare.
She thought of how he’d taken time to reassure Jo, who was nervous after her assault. The easy way he’d chatted with staff in the London hotel and on the trip here. He noticed other people. More, he treated them as equals.
Ida liked that.
‘I’m lucky to have her,’ Cesare added as he passed the basket of baked goods. ‘Dorotea takes everything in her stride, is always prepared and is a fantastic cook.’
Ida took acornetto, the Italian version of a croissant, and another pastry. She was starving.
‘She’s worked for you a long time?’
‘Years. Dorotea was my grandfather’s housekeeper before I came to live with him as a child.’
‘You lived with your grandfather?’
Cesare reached for a pastry. ‘He brought me up. I was fortunate to have such a great role model.’
Unlikehergrandfather, she mused as she bit into light, flaky pastry. Luckily, she hadn’t had to live permanently with the old man. The notion made her skin crawl.
‘What’s wrong?’
She looked up to see Cesare leaning back in his chair, his indolent posture at odds with that alert gaze. But Ida didn’t want to talk about her grandfather.
‘I was just surprised. I knew you lost your mother when you were very young, but I hadn’t realised your father died when you were a child too.’ She’d thought he’d died not long before their wedding.
Cesare’s expression blanked and she had the feeling she’d crossed some unseen boundary. Then he shrugged and sipped his coffee.
‘He didn’t. But he wasn’t the paternal type. My father had his own interests and found it easier not to have a kid cramping his style. Plus, he did a lot of travelling for business. He didn’t stay in one place long.’
Cesare’s posture was relaxed but his eyes, and that edge to his voice, indicated his father’s rejection had cut deep.
‘I’m sorry. That must have been tough.’
A week ago, she’d never have imagined Cesare sharing anything so personal with her. Or her feeling sympathy for the boy he’d been, shuffled off to be cared for by someone else. It was something they had in common, though their circumstances were very different.
She knew what it was to be wrenched from parents and transplanted into an unfamiliar new world.
He shrugged. ‘It worked out well. My grandfather raised me here in Tuscany and I couldn’t have asked for a better childhood.’
There was no mistaking Cesare’s affection for the man who’d raised him. Ida felt another bond of shared experience.
‘My childhood was like that too,’ she offered. ‘Warm and happy. My mother was loving and had a great sense of humour. And Dad was patient, always ready to listen and play. He told great bedtime stories too.’
She paused, surprised at her urge to share such memories with Cesare. But this wasn’t the cold man who’d turned on her after their wedding.
She’d discovered hidden depths to Cesare. Not just his sensual, passionate nature, but also a level of respect, warmth and understanding that drew her.
‘Ah. Mynonnowasn’t quite like that. He wasn’t into playtime or stories. But he was patient. He taught me right from wrong, by example as much as anything. Everything I know about honour, family tradition and responsibilities, I learnt from him. And about business.’ Cesare’s mouth twisted. ‘For some reason my father didn’t inherit his business savvy. That’s why the company became vulnerable to Calogero.’
Ida took her time processing that. It sounded as if Cesare’snonnowas an admirable man, yet she wondered what it would be like, brought up by someone focused on business and responsibility. Surely a child needed warmth and understanding too? The chance simply to be a child?
Was it telling too that Cesare brought the conversation back again so quickly to the family business?
She suspected that, for all his privilege, his childhood hadn’t been as carefree and joyous as hers. That he’d had duty and tradition drummed into him. No wonder he’d been ready to do anything, even give in to blackmail, to save the family business built up over generations.