For he’d barely spoken. He avoided her eyes as if he couldn’t bear to look at her.
She hadn’t heard everything her grandfather had said. But Cesare must know she’d chosen to go there.
Did he think she’d thrown in her lot with her grandfather, who’d later turned against her for reasons of his own?
She knew a deep vein of mistrust ran through Cesare. Mistrust of the Calogero family. And of women. She’d heard Cesare’s contempt, not just for his father, who he deemed weak, but also for the women he believed had seduced his father.
Did he see her as another mercenary woman out to get what she could? Just as he had when they first met?
The time they’d shared here had been golden with promise and burgeoning love.For her.
But for Cesare? Sometimes it had felt as if they hovered on the brink of something wonderful. She’d been almost certain Cesare was opening his heart to her, but he’d never said so.
Perhaps she’d imagined that. Certainly he wasn’t loverlike now. He kept his distance and wouldn’t meet her eyes.
She’d misinterpreted his passion for the beginnings of love. Though he’d made it clear this was a temporary arrangement.
They were getting divorced! How could she have imagined he felt more?
Ida blinked prickling eyes and turned away from the silent man on the sofa opposite. Night had fallen and outside the underwater lights turned the pool into a shimmering oasis. It was almost too beautiful. She couldn’t bear this any more.
She drained her glass of water and made to rise.
‘Ida, we need to talk.’
Her head snapped around. Cesare’s expression hadn’t altered. He still looked as communicative as a statue, his big frame rigid.
She shuddered beneath the silk-lined warmth of his jacket. ‘I’m sorry,’ she blurted out. ‘I did what I had to.’
Her throat closed as she remembered the threat to harm Cesare. Ridiculous that it still upset her now he was safe, yet hot tears flooded her eyes.
‘Ida, don’t. Please.’ His voice was harsh but a beautiful sort of harsh, almost tender. It made the tears come faster because she must be imagining the tenderness. To her dismay he rose and sat beside her.
She groped for a tissue, plunging her hand into the jacket pocket, fingers closing around crumpled paper.
Ida sniffed and withdrew it, bending her head as if fascinated by the paper instead of the man beside her.
A handkerchief appeared before her and she took it with a nod of thanks, dabbing at her eyes. ‘Sorry. It’s just reaction.’
‘Don’t apologise.’ His voice was harsh. ‘I was wrong. You should have a good cry if it makes you feel better.’
But Ida didn’t want to weep. She wanted to end this torture, sitting with the man she loved, knowing it was all over. It was obvious he didn’t return her feelings. If he thought she’d been in league with her grandfather, he probably despised her.
He’d saved her because he was a decent man. He’d have done the same for anyone.
Ida turned towards him but didn’t meet his eyes. ‘Did I thank you? I can’t remember. It’s a bit of a blur.’Liar.Today’s events were branded on her brain. ‘But I appreciate all you’ve done. And don’t worry, as soon as the police have finished with their questions, I’ll go.’
Her nervous babble died when a warm hand covered her bare arm. ‘I’m sorry, Ida. You must have been terrified.’
‘You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.’
Unthinking, she met Cesare’s eyes and then couldn’t look away. His expression matched how she felt. Anguished.
She blinked. It couldn’t be.
‘If you’d felt safe here you wouldn’t have gone to him. If you’d believed in me.’
Cesare’s mouth compressed to a thin line and Ida saw that flicker of pulse at his temple, something she’d seen in moments of extreme emotion. She stared at his drawn features. Was it possible he feltguilty?