Cesare stepped out into the sunshine and paused, soaking up the warmth, a counterpoint to the chill in his belly. It had started when Ida spoke of her visits to Calogero but had really taken hold during her silences. When she’d refused to confirm whether Calogero had harmed her. When she’d said no sane person would cross the man.
Given the litany of crimes for which the old man was being investigated, many brutally violent, Cesare knew she’d suffered.
He abhorred the idea of Ida being under his control.
Cesare had no doubt that she told the truth. That haunted look in her eyes had made his skin crawl.
Yet he’d read strength in her composure and a lurking hint of bitter humour that twisted her lips as she skated over things too painful to discuss.
He admired her.
When they’d met, he’d never imagined her to be anything other than his scheming enemy’s pampered pet.
Hearing her story had shaken him.
He’d been so committed to his own goals, protecting his extended family and those dependent on the company, he’d not taken time to consider Ida might be an innocent caught up in Calogero’s schemes.
Guilt tightened his chest and roiled through his belly. How callous and superior he’d been. How blind!
The coffee cups on the tray Dorotea had provided rattled as he drew in a horrified breath.
All this time he’d prided himself on being decent and honourable. On having purpose and a plan which was finally bearing fruit as the forces of the law inched closer to arresting Calogero.
But for all his lofty ideals, Cesare suddenly saw himself stripped bare.
He was as flawed as his father, the man he’d despised for so long.
He’d let passion, in his case anger rather than lust, blind him to the truth.
It was even worse than that. His father had let his libido and his weakness for pretty women blind him. He’d allowed gold-diggers to pull the wool over his eyes with fake adoration and words of love.
Cesare had only himself to blame. Only Calogero had made him think Ida was privy to the blackmail scheme. If Cesare had been thinking straight, he’d have taken time to question that. Instead, he’d let fury rule him. Fury not just at the outrageous scheme and the threat to those he cared about. But because the old villain had foisted on him a woman who, despite everything, made him want to forget business and revenge and think only of her.
Letting passion rule his thoughts and actions was against everything he’d learned from hisnonno. A weakness he’d seen in his father and been determined to avoid.
Cesare grimaced. So much for learning from his father’s dire example.
He straightened his shoulders and walked on.
Ida was staring into the distance as if lost in the beauty of the landscape. Or remembering her difficult past.
And he’d added to her pain. The things he’d said in Rome... Shame thickened his throat.
As Cesare approached, he saw she’d crossed one foot over her knee, her fingers rubbing her ankle as if in pain. She’d done that before.
‘Have you injured yourself?’
Her gaze darted to his as he put down the tray and took his seat. An instant later she had both feet on the ground.
‘Not at all.’ She reached for a cup, pausing to inhale the aroma. He guessed it was an excuse not to meet his eyes. ‘The coffee here is wonderful. I’ll miss it.’
‘Then don’t go.’
She jumped, spilling coffee on herself. ‘Sorry?’
Cesare offered a napkin, but she put the cup down and sucked the hot liquid on her hand.
Something shifted inside him. Not guilt. Desire. He tried to force it away. Surely it was wrong to think about sex with Ida when he’d just discovered how badly he’d treated her.