The Platinum Collection: Claiming His Innocent: Jess's Promise / A Rich Man's Whim / The Billionaire's Bridal Bargain

Cesario slung her a wicked grin full of sexuality and fantasy, his dark golden eyes dancing with amusement, and hot pink drenched her cheeks.

‘Okay…’ Jess conceded between gritted teeth. ‘But in between times I want to see Tuscany.’

‘Your wish is my command, delizia mia.’

‘Again?‘ Cesario husked as a slim hand wandered across his hair-roughened thigh with an intent he knew all too well only to discover that he was ahead of her and already primed and ready for another bout of lovemaking. Being with a woman who wanted him as much as he wanted her, he had discovered as the days of their honeymoon had unfolded, was a very invigorating experience.

This particular day, though, had started off on a purely cultural note with a trip to the beguiling hilltop town of San Gimignano, dominated by its thirteen medieval towers. Cool as a spring flower in a pale blue skirt and white lace top, Jess had admired the Ghirlandaio frescoes in the Renaissance chapel of Santa Fina and she had succumbed to highly infectious giggles when Cesario compared her profile to one on the wall. They had enjoyed a leisurely lunch in a thirteenth-century town house followed by vintage wine served in the piazza. There, slowly but surely, intelligent conversation had faltered as their eyes had met and other rather more basic instincts had taken over.

But it was Jess who had taken Cesario by surprise when she had ultimately leant across the table to whisper feverishly, ‘Get us a room…’

They had barely made it through the door of the airy tower room of a nearby hotel he had hurriedly taken for them before, still almost fully clothed, they were enjoying each other up against the wall with a scorching raw-edged passion that Cesario had never before dared to unleash on a woman. The looks they had shared in the piazza over the wine had acted as the most arousing session of foreplay he had ever experienced. Even now, lying naked and bronzed in a tangle of sheets, he was still reliving the hot, tight, wet seal of her body round his and the gasping sounds of unashamed pleasure that had rung in his ears even as she tried to stifle them for fear of being overheard. He had already had her three times and he knew it would not be the last time that day. As those delicate fingers of hers enclosed his bold erection and she lowered her luscious mouth to caress him, Cesario just lay back and closed his eyes, literally drunk on pleasure. Being married was turning out to be a whole lot more enthralling than he had ever dared to hope.

Jess loved to plunge Cesario into that rich well of sensuality where she held sway. It was a power-play, a runaway triumph for a woman who had been a virgin a mere six weeks earlier and pretty ignorant of what it took to be an equal bed partner. But that aside, touching Cesario, making love with Cesario, just being with Cesario was also the biggest source of pleasure Jess had ever known. Telling herself that it should not be that way hadn’t worked as a defence against feeling things she knew she shouldn’t be feeling with him. Only in the realm of sex and physical expression could she let her barriers down, freely showering him with the physical hunger he ignited and sealing her mouth and her mind shut on the thoughts and the emotions that accompanied the desire.

Sharon Martin had spoken wisely when she’d warned her daughter that it wouldn’t be easy to live with a man without her emotions getting involved. But Jess didn’t blame herself for failing to maintain her defences, she blamed Cesario for transforming himself into the perfect new husband, a fabulous lover and all-round fantastic companion, whom pretty much any woman would have found irresistible.

In the aftermath of yet another session of hot, satisfying sex, Jess lay with her heart racing and her body aching in the circle of Cesario’s arms. He was still holding her, stroking her spine, his mouth gently brushing her temples. He was doing that fake caring thing again and part of her wanted to slap him for it. She had tumbled headlong in love with him but she still had her brain and she didn’t need the pretences, didn’t want them. It was just sex they shared and she could handle that reality—she had never been a coward when it came to the hard realities of life!

‘Sex with you sizzles every time,’ Cesario told her appreciatively. ‘You could make me monogamous.’

Her grey eyes flashed silver and she lifted her head. ‘If I thought for one minute that you would stray while I was still living with you, I would probably kill you!’ she swore shakily, passion betraying her.

Cesario stretched back against the pillows with predatory grace and no small amount of male satisfaction at what he took as a compliment. ‘I do believe you would, moglie mia. You’re not the sort of woman any man would dare to take for granted.’

‘I’m not a proper wife…don’t talk as though I am!’ Jess warned him waspishly. ‘A proper wife wouldn’t drag you off to a bedroom in the middle of the day and shag you half to death…’

Cesario shifted again and grinned wickedly like the cat who’d got the cream while he curved a strong arm round her to hold her close. ‘The wife of my dreams certainly would…’

‘I’m not the wife of your dreams either.’ Her fingers spreading defensively across his hair-roughened pectorals as she lay against him, Jess could hear the flat note in her delivery and prayed that he couldn’t.

Jess was fully convinced that Alice, the beautiful American former fashion model married to Stefano, would have been the true wife of Cesario’s dreams. Alice and Stefano and their two gorgeous little boys lived only a few miles away from Collina Verde and they were regular visitors. While the men had happily talked politics, business and the intricacies of producing award-winning wines, Jess and Alice had got to know each other. Jess genuinely liked Alice and admired her talent as an amateur artist. But she was also always painfully aware of Alice’s extensive list of appealing traits. Alice was gentle and kind, a shining example of a woman who was as lovely on the inside as she was on the outside, and Jess was convinced that no man who had lost a woman of Alice’s worth could have easily recovered from the experience and moved on. She was not surprised that Cesario had once loved Alice or that Alice and Cesario remained very close. Jess had yet to see anything she could object to in their behaviour but in their presence she was always conscious of how well they knew each other and of how new her own relationship with Cesario truly was. It was a struggle not to be jealous of his bond with the other woman.

As Jess shifted her hand down to his flat, hard stomach Cesario closed his fingers over hers and his thumb smoothed gently and consideringly over the scar on her hand, his lean, powerful body tensing in response. ‘Tell me who did this to you,’ he urged tautly. ‘I need to know what happened to you.’

After a moment of silence, Jess slowly released her breath in a rueful sigh. ‘I attracted the attentions of a stalker in my first year at university. An unemployed loner whom, as far as I know, I’d never actually met or even spoken to,’ she explained reluctantly. ‘When the police showed me his photo after the attack it was a challenge to even recognise him—’

‘A stalker?’ Cesario was already frowning. ‘I assumed you’d been the victim of some random robbery.’

‘There was nothing random about it and no theft involved. I began getting cards and little gifts in my accommodation mailbox and I had no idea who they were from. At first I actually thought it was romantic…all that love-from-afar-stuff girls hear about!’ she breathed with sudden bitterness.

His arm tightened its grip. ‘You weren’t to know it was an abnormal interest.’

‘Well, I found out soon enough when my stalker saw me out and about with a male friend he assumed to be a boyfriend. That’s when his interest took a creepy turn: the cards turned abusive, calling me a whore…and a slut…and a whole lot of other dirty…’ Jess was trembling and her voice was shaking.

‘It must’ve been very frightening for you.’ Cesario wrapped both his arms securely round her slight body to comfort her and tugged her into full contact with him. ‘Clearly he had problems. Did you go to the police?’

‘The cards didn’t threaten me with violence, so he wasn’t committing an offence. The law’s been changed since, but back then a woman had very little protection from that sort of thing,’ Jess told him heavily. ‘I got really scared because it was obvious that he was spying on me. But hardly anyone saw him as a serious threat. In fact my friends tried to make a joke about his fixation on me. One evening I came back from class to the flat I shared, laden with books and shopping…’

‘And he was waiting for you?’ Cesario prompted darkly, his nostrils flaring.

Jess was pale but the words were flowing more freely now. ‘He just appeared round the corner of the landing and there was something weird about the way he looked at me. I just knew it had to be him and I ran back to the stairs. I dropped my bags but I wasn’t quick enough. When I saw the knife I put up my hands to protect my face and I don’t remember anything else but screaming. A neighbour came out and interrupted him and my attacker fled. He ran out into the road and got hit by a car. He died…he died and I wasn’t sorry,’ she admitted sickly. ‘But I would have lived in fear for ever more if he had survived.’

Cesario held her until the deep trembling slivering through her slim frame had subsided and she was breathing evenly again. ‘I’m sorry you had such a terrifying experience. I just needed to know what had happened,’ he volunteered wryly. ‘But I understand now why you’ve always played down your looks…’

‘After the attack I just couldn’t be comfortable wearing clothes that might attract male attention. Before that I was a normal teenager and I wore miniskirts and all the rest of it,’ Jess admitted ruefully. ‘It’s not that I think every man might have it in him to be violent, it’s more the way a woman’s looks can encourage a man to objectify her and see the outside without seeing that there’s a real living, breathing, feeling person underneath.’

‘I’ve been guilty of that miscalculation many times, bella mia,’ Cesario admitted with a grimace as he acknowledged the fact.

Jess lifted her curly head to send him a significant look that brought a frown to his lean, hard-boned face. ‘I should think so too with your reputation.’

‘If you’re basing your opinion on what’s been printed about me, keep in mind that the British press only began depicting me as a wild, promiscuous playboy after I dared to dump their darling, Gilly Carlton.’

His reference to one of the most popular soap stars on British television made her raise her brows. ‘I didn’t even know that you and she—’

‘We didn’t—she was always drunk. A couple of casual dates and I’d had enough of her falling out of chairs, cars and doorways!’

‘But my opinion of you wasn’t formed by anything I read in the newspapers,’ Jess confided, giving him a deliberately mysterious glance that was pure provocation. ‘To be honest, I had a source of information much closer to home.’

‘Who?’

‘I’m not telling.’ Throwing back the sheet, Jess pulled playfully free of his hold and slid off the bed. ‘Just for once I’m going to grab the first shower.’

‘I’m feeling lazy. We could stay here tonight, dine out and go home tomorrow. It is our last week.’

‘I would love that.’ Padding into the compact en suite bathroom, Jess was ridiculously pleased that he appeared to be as aware as she was that their honeymoon idyll was almost at an end. It touched her that he was keen to make the most of what time was left.

If she had not known that they had married simply to conceive a child, she would have described the last six weeks they had shared as a magical time of discovery and joy. As it was, she knew she had to keep her feet firmly pinned on the ground and pour cold water on her more fanciful thoughts and reactions for, within days, she would be returning to England, her job and usual routine. And since she was beginning to suspect that she might already have conceived she was wondering just how much she could hope to see of Cesario in the future.

Did he too suspect that she might have conceived? Had he noticed that her menstrual cycle had not once kicked in since they’d became lovers? Surely he must have noticed even though he hadn’t said anything? Perhaps she should visit the local doctor when they got back to Collina Verde. Could it have happened so fast? Her face warmed as she towelled herself dry and stood back to allow him access to the shower. They had had sex a lot. Some days they had barely got out of bed. And even now she could hardly keep her hands off him. It shocked her how much she craved him, how often they could make love and for how little time that fierce hot arrow of desire would remain satisfied. So, it was not beyond the bounds of belief that she might already have fallen pregnant. She was excited and apprehensive—excited at the prospect of a baby, but apprehensive that conception would mean the end of all intimacy between her and Cesario. After all, once a baby was officially on the way, their ‘project’ would be complete and there would no longer be a reason for them even to live below the same roof.

From the bedroom window, she looked out over the textured terracotta roofs that lent such warmth and colour to the panoramic view of the old town as the medieval houses beneath them stepped down the hillside. Her memory served up cherished images of the relationship they had created between them. He had bought her a gilded image of a saint in the market at Castelnuovo di Garfagnana, which he had insisted reminded him of her. She thought the resemblance was in his imagination alone. Possibly that was the first thing he had said and done that he should not have in the first forty eight hours of their stay in Italy, she mused unhappily. There was no room for such frills and fancies in a practical marriage of convenience.

But then there had been very little practical about the experiences they had shared. In the tour of Tuscany that Cesario had treated her to, he had walked hand in hand with her like a lover through winding streets and alleyways, happy to shop in tiny traditional workshops and sample the freshest of food in the picturesque restaurants. The same male who had warned her not to fall in love with him had moved the goalposts without telling her and she had been afraid to remark on it lest it change the wonderful ambience between them. They’d had picnics amongst the wildflowers on deserted hillsides and long chatty romantic evening meals on the elegant loggia at the house listening to the classical music she loved. She had adored Florence and Siena, but had found both cities too hot and crowded at this time of year and he had promised to bring her back once the height of the tourist season had passed. Now, she wondered if he would ever keep that promise.

She had learned that he was human too, once she came to appreciate that he occasionally suffered from shockingly bad migraines, which he flatly refused to talk about. Indeed he seemed to look on any admission of feeling unwell as the behaviour of a wimp and his ridiculous stoicism brought a tender smile of remembered amusement to her lips. Somewhere along the line, she acknowledged ruefully, their holiday had turned into a proper honeymoon.

He had bought her a fabulous designer bag in Florence and a painting that she found so ugly she had threatened to dump it while he believed it would grow on her and refine what he saw as her unsophisticated taste in art. And then there was the jewellery…he really loved to give her jewellery and to see her wear it. Her fingers touched the delicate choker of golden leaves that curved round her throat like an elegant question mark. He had bought it for her thirty-first birthday, which he had remembered without any prompting from her. He had also insisted that she had to have a diamond pendant and earrings if she was not to look only half dressed beside Alice when they dined out with the other couple.

He had shown her Etruscan tombs and magnificent palazzos and taught her to distinguish a good wine from an indifferent one. He had laughed when she’d told him that she had not known what cutlery to use on that disastrous first dinner date and she’d had to explain how intimidating she had found that because, born into wealth and fine dining as a way of life, Cesario had not initially understood the problem.

She had fallen in love with her husband and did not know how she could possibly have avoided doing so, because Cesario di Silvestri had somehow succeeded in making himself indispensable to her comfort and happiness.

Over dinner that evening, Cesario was still demanding that she name her mole concerning his reputation and she finally took pity on him and confided that her parents lived next door to his former housekeeper.

Cesario frowned. ‘She signed a confidentiality agreement. All my staff have to. I can’t believe she’s gossiping about my private life…’

Jess winced. ‘I should have kept quiet and I probably shouldn’t have listened either. Dot does seem to cherish a certain resentment over being put into retirement before she was ready to go.’