Cesare’s nape tightened and sweat beaded his brow.
He’d crossed every boundary hisnonnohad taught him. He’d been impulsive. He’d confused business with pleasure, giving emotions free rein. Trusting without demanding proof. His honourable instinct to protect a vulnerable woman had morphed into something more profound and potentially self-destructive.
Had he made the biggest mistake of his life?
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
IDAWOKEHORRIBLY. A headache beat through her skull in time with her hammering pulse and there was something wrong with her mouth.
She lifted her hand to investigate but found something wrong with that too. It took long, befuddled seconds to realise there was something wrapped around her wrists, tying them together. And something around her mouth as well. Panicked, she tried to swallow over the musty taste in her mouth and realised her mouth was filled with fabric, held in place by a gag.
Her eyes snapped open, and she immediately closed them as pain spiked. Cautiously she squinted against the light, inhaling through her nose, fighting rising panic.
Slowly things began to make sense. She lay on her side on a marble floor, its chill leaching into her body. She was in a large sitting room, sombrely and expensively decorated in the style of several centuries ago. She saw gilded antique furniture, dark paintings and heavy velvet curtains partly drawn across tall windows.
Memory surfaced.
Bruno had brought her to this place, a venerable mansion where her grandfather had been waiting.
Convulsively Ida swallowed, fear rising anew as she recalled the scene. Her grandfather had looked far older and more fragile than she remembered. So bad that she’d wondered if he was ill. But his temper hadn’t changed.
There’d been sneering triumph and malevolent anticipation in his face as he’d derided her for thinking she could escape him.
He had a use for her, he’d said. First to make Cesare suffer and then as a bargaining chip to get Cesare to call off his investigators. If that didn’t work... His voice had turned soft, and Ida’s skin had crawled. That was when her grandfather was most dangerous.
He’d peppered her with questions about Cesare, his business and plans. As if Ida would betray Cesare to him!
She’d pleaded ignorance again and again, but that had only infuriated Calogero. For the first time she saw him spooked, fear crossing his jaundiced features as he spoke of someone prying into his affairs. Someone who’d outmanoeuvred his own security.
A flicker of hope had flared. Her grandfather thought it was just Cesare pursuing him. He didn’t realise it was the police across several countries. Maybe they were close to an arrest? Cesare had thought so.
Finally, her grandfather’s temper had peaked and he’d lashed out, knocking her off her feet. She’d taken a step to save herself but caught her foot in the edge of a carpet and lost her balance.
That explained the pounding skull. It must have connected with the stone floor. Gingerly she lifted her tied hands and discovered a lump on her head. Nausea filled her at that gentle probing, and she had to stop and rest.
While she’d been unconscious someone, Bruno, no doubt, had bound and gagged her. Why? Her grandfather would have people here who’d stop her leaving.
Ida forced herself to lie still and think.
Did she hear voices? Or was it the sound of her pulse?
She scrabbled at the gag but only the tips of her fingers were free of their binding and she couldn’t get enough purchase.
Ignoring the screaming pain, she rolled forward, bracing her joined hands and getting onto her knees. Her head swam but she fought it. When her head cleared she was sure of it, there were voices near by. Masculine voices.
Her heart leapt. Was she crazy to imagine that deep tone was Cesare’s?
Looking for something to help her up, for her feet were tied too, Ida discovered a spindly-legged sofa and side table beside her. On the table was a glass, a fine goblet with the look of age.
Teetering on her knees, Ida lifted the goblet clumsily in her bound hands. She shot a look towards the door. It was still closed, the voices muffled.
Silently she prayed it wasn’t Bruno talking with her grandfather but someone who might help her escape. She had to warn Cesare he was in danger.
‘You always were stubborn, Brunetti, just like your grandfather.’ Calogero shook his head. ‘Why would I kidnap your wife? You can’t blame me if she wasn’t happy with you.’ His eyes flashed maliciously. ‘You made a spectacle of yourself driving her away the first time. But to do it twice? You’ve made yourself a laughing stock.’
His croaky chuckle was like poison dripping on unprotected flesh.
Cesare’s skin crawled. Beneath his veneer of calm, he’d never known such violent emotion. It was hard thinking beyond the haze of fury at this man.