Yet the look in those dark, serious eyes made her heart judder.
When she managed to catch her breath, her voice was so husky it sounded unfamiliar. ‘I feel the same.’
Later Ida couldn’t remember crossing the foyer, checking in or getting to their suite.
All she recalled was the feel of Cesare’s hand holding hers, the beating excitement in her chest and the glow in his eyes when the door closed behind them and they were finally alone.
Cesare’s breathing was harsh in the stillness, the sound matching the heavy thrum of her pulse. Then she was in his arms, and he was striding towards the gilded, beautiful bedroom, his jaw clenched and an expression on his face that twisted her heart in her chest.
Awe, excitement and hope. She felt them all.
Ida was only human. She forgot about the world beyond Cesare’s arms. The fact this was temporary. Instead, she listened to her eager heart.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
IDAWASINone of her favourite spots, on a trellis-shaded seat looking across the pool to the gardens and distant hills.
She tried to concentrate on the laptop Cesare had given her, but her mind drifted to their night in Florence.
Their fervour for each other had been even more potent than usual. They’d come together with an urgency that had blown her brain. Yet beneath the speed had been an emotion that made her heart swell.
Later, noting the crescent-shaped marks on Cesare’s back where her nails had dug, and seeing the stubble rash of reddened skin on her breasts and belly, Ida had felt a curious mix of satisfaction and tenderness. Despite weeks of passionate encounters, nothing had felt as intimate as last night.
It wasn’t just the sex. It was lying entwined on the vast bed, talking sleepily about everything and nothing. It was the laughter and sense of communion. The connection, as if some invisible thread bound them together.
Their intimacy had been about far more than she’d admitted. More than physical arousal. More than feeling safe with Cesare or grateful for his protection and the wonderful time they’d spent together.
In the early hours Cesare had held her to him and asked if she was happy. It hadn’t occurred to Ida to be surprised by his question or cautious in responding, not with that sunburst of joy inside her. She’d told him the truth. That she’d never been happier.
For long moments they’d lain there, staring into each other’s eyes.
Ida had no words for the feeling that had encompassed her then. Except maybe peace or belonging. Whatever it was, it had felt momentous. Neither had spoken, but finally Cesare had drawn her close and she’d nestled against him, head on his collarbone, their arms wrapped around each other as they fell asleep.
Cesare had brought her to the villa this morning but then turned to drive back to Florence, belatedly remembering a meeting he’d arranged. Ida had secretly been delighted, wondering if their time together was affecting him as well. She sat grinning, reliving every nuance of every word they’d shared.
Had she truly stumbled on a man who saw her for herself? Who really cared about her? Or did her own yearning blind her?
‘Signora.A phone call for you.’ Dorotea stepped through the open doorway, holding out a phone. ‘A friend of yours.’
‘Grazie, Dorotea.’
Ida took the phone. It could only be Jo, though why would her friend call the house instead of Ida’s phone? ‘Jo? How’s it going?’
Silence crackled in her ear. Not the silence of Jo drawing breath but something else. Something that raised the hairs at her nape.
Ida sat straighter, senses alert.
Finally it came. But not the voice of any friend. It was the voice she’d told herself she’d never hear again.
‘Hello, Ida,’ he croaked. ‘Enjoying your romantic tryst with Brunetti?’
She shot to her feet, her heart trying to burst free of her ribcage.
Her instinct was to throw the phone as far as she could, but fear and shock locked her fingers around it. Nausea rose so strong and fast she thought she’d vomit.
Ida swung towards the villa, opening her mouth as if to call back Dorotea.
‘Don’t even think about it,’ her grandfather snarled, the faux gentleness of his first words obliterated by a familiar threatening tone. ‘Call anyone and you’ll regret it. You’re being watched and I’ll know if you disobey me.’