For despite his talk of her grandfather having the upper hand, Cesare was one of the strongest, most capable and determined people she’d met. He radiated power and self-control. It was one of the first things she’d noticed about him. Along with his looks and charisma. And she’d read about his formidable business acumen, even though he wasn’t yet thirty.
He wouldn’t understand what it was like to be helpless. How desperate you could be. How much you’d dare.
‘Why didyoumarryme, Cesare?’
At last she managed to unfreeze her muscles and took a couple of steps to a side table, where she put down the glass. She hoped she looked nonchalant though she felt like a marionette, pulled on jerky strings.
Cesare’s stare, less ferocious but no less daunting, had her folding her arms tight around her middle. How she wished she’d worn that robe. Or something much more substantial than silk and naked skin. Every time she moved, the shift of thin material across bare flesh made her skin prickle.
‘You’re going to play the innocent?’
Ida shrugged. What could she say that he’d believe? ‘It’s a simple question.’
‘This is pointless.’ He lifted his glass and took a long swallow as if he needed something to ease his mood.
‘You owe me more than insults.’ Ida watched him lower his glass, surprise on his features. ‘Imarriedyou today. So you can oblige me by explaining your insinuations.’
Her tone was frosty. It would take years of practice to achieve Cesare’s glacial disdain or her grandfather’s venomous fury, but it felt good not to leash her feelings as she’d done for so long.
She lifted her chin and ignored the hurried thump of her heart against her breast, warning her to be careful. She’d spent most of her life being careful and look where it had got her.
‘Are you going to explain or are you going to drink yourself into a stupor because you’re in a bad mood?’
Ida felt her eyes widen as the words escaped. She’d never dared speak like that in her life. But Cesare didn’t seem shocked. He merely raised his eyebrows and, holding her gaze, lifted the crystal wine glass to his lips and drank deeply.
It was the strangest feeling, staring back at those dark eyes. Noticing too the way his throat muscles worked.
It felt...intimate. His glittering stare made her hot and edgy. Aware of him at an elemental level as tension corkscrewed low in her body.
Ida blushed. That wasn’t just challenging but also sexual. She felt it even though she couldn’t explain how she knew it.
Cesare was toying with her. She spun on her heel, ready to leave, when he spoke.
‘You know what your grandfather is. You live with him.’
‘Actually, I don’t. Not usually.’
He frowned. Maybe her grandfather had painted a picture of them as a close-knit family. It was the sort of thing he’d do if it suited him.
‘I’m no apologist for him, but this is the first I’ve heard about blackmail or murder.’
Cesare stared at her for a long moment then gestured to the sofas. ‘Let’s sit.’
‘I’d rather stand.’
This wasn’t going to be a cosy chat. It took all her strength to hear him out, pretending she didn’t care that he despised her or that she felt defenceless in nothing but navy silk. But she had to know it all.
Cesare scowled. Because he felt guilty over his accusations? More likely he wasn’t used to a woman saying no to him.
Cesare Brunetti had the looks and charisma to make women say yes.
Ida raised her eyebrows, pretending to a calm she didn’t feel. ‘You were going to explain.’
‘It’s straightforward enough. Fausto Calogero hated my grandfather and vowed revenge on him and my family. Now he’s taking that revenge.’
‘Why? What did your family do?’
Cesare stiffened, his cheeks hollowing in an expression of pure hauteur. ‘Nothing. Except look after the girl your grandfather attacked and call the police.’