Marriage Made of Secrets

‘You wanted to humiliate me,’ she said.

‘I merely wanted to prove a point. Passion is an emotion, cara, one I relish in the right circumstances. But I choose not to let it rule my life.’

She lowered her eyes, chagrin eating like acid through her at how easily she’d fallen for his ploy. ‘You mean I let it rule mine?’ She wanted to slink away in shame, but she was damned if she’d give him the satisfaction.

‘I’ve just demonstrated that this is so.’

‘Wow, so that display was all for me? Well, I hope you’re proud of yourself.’

He stepped closer and slowly passed a finger over her swollen lip. ‘Sì, I am. And it’s good to know I can still reduce you to putty.’ His tone reeked smugness.

She didn’t rise to the bait. They both knew he’d won this round. She straightened her clothes. ‘Sure, you can dominate me with the sheer force of your sexual prowess. The orgasm you gave me just now? Out of this world. I’m a red-blooded female after all. But you’ve also proved that you’re so cold-hearted you can control your life to the point where nothing touches you unless you want it to. So pardon me if I don’t wholeheartedly buy your reasons for being here.’

He let go of her as if she’d suddenly developed a contagious disease. For a moment he looked almost...disarmed. But she didn’t feel victory, just an emptiness that grew larger with each passing second.

‘You’re trying to rile me.’ The face of the man who regarded her wasn’t the Cesare who’d kissed her senseless moments ago, whose heart she’d felt beating unsteadily against her own. This was Cesare back in control, the master in complete command of his world.

‘I’m speaking the truth. Deal with it.’

‘It seriously terrifies me how prone to recklessness you can be.’ With cool poise, he reached down and picked up her laptop. ‘If you want to maintain that truce, I think we need to establish some ground rules. Come.’

Without waiting for her agreement, he strode off in the direction of his study.

By the time she found enough strength to straighten away from the wall and follow, he’d disappeared.

She found him seated behind his massive antique desk, his fingers steepled against his mouth. If he’d been any other man, she would’ve suspected he was hiding behind the desk to avoid her. But Cesare was no ordinary man.

He’d just proven catastrophically and conclusively that he could turn her brainless with desire, ride through the storm of passion with her, and emerge unscathed.

‘If you’re going to dissect what just happened—’

‘What happened just now doesn’t need dissection,’ he said, cutting across her. ‘But I do want to discuss Annabelle and the impact our being together will have on her.’

She frowned. ‘Why should it impact on her?’

He ignored her question. ‘How did she take Rita leaving? I know they were close.’ His gaze bored into her with the force of a laser drill.

‘She was distressed, of course, but—’

‘You also said she’s a bit more sensitive than she used to be.’

Her hackles rose. ‘And you think this is in some way my fault?’

He exhaled. ‘I’m not laying blame, Ava. I’m just trying to find the best way to settle her without causing her any more upset.’

‘She’s back home where she belongs, and I’ll be with her every day. A loving family is what she needs.’

Tawny eyes hardened a touch. ‘You’ll be working some of the time.’ His gaze strayed to her laptop, which now sat on his desk. ‘You cut back on your work when we got married. Why the sudden return to full-time work?’

‘Because I found out that playing the role of neglected wife isn’t all that challenging—I could do it with my eyes closed, in fact. I needed something more.’

‘Is that supposed to be some sort of statement?’ he asked.

‘You’re the genius. Work it out.’

‘You’re my wife, Ava, and therefore my responsibility—’

‘Isn’t that a mere technicality?’ She ignored his icy glare. ‘You can’t have it both ways, Cesare. We’ve been drifting apart almost from the moment Annabelle was born. Hell, we’ve barely lived together for the last year. Calling me your wife when it suits you or as a means of salving your conscience—what there is of it—is disingenuous. Your career has always been your first priority so don’t you dare question my dedication to mine. You can continue to provide for your daughter, but I can more than take care of myself financially.’

‘Nice speech. Although I see you didn’t hesitate to make use of my jet when you needed it. You can’t have it both ways either, cara. While we live under the same roof you’re my responsibility and we both do what’s best for Annabelle. We share all meal times with our daughter. And at all times we present a united front.’

‘To show her Mummy and Papà don’t hate each other?’ she threw at him.

His mocking smile displayed perfectly formed white teeth. ‘Her Mummy and Papà don’t hate each other. I think I proved that conclusively just now.’

A residual post-orgasmic shiver raked her insides at the reminder. ‘Sexual desire without a solid foundation fizzles out eventually, Cesare.’

One dark eyebrow tilted upward. ‘Is this another enlightened nugget you were fed in your commune or did you conduct a personal study?’

‘I don’t need a study to tell me that it won’t be long before Annabelle starts asking probing questions. She’s beginning to notice that her kindergarten friends have mummies and daddies who live together. Last month, before we left for Bali, she asked me why you don’t live with us. Those are the easy questions, so prepare yourself for the tough questions because they’re just around the corner.’

With the swiftness of a flash flood, the smile disappeared and a veil descended over his bronze features. Before her eyes, he withdrew behind a veneer of cool indifference. ‘Many couples live apart. When the time is right, we will explain things to her.’

‘I can’t wait because I’d quite like some answers myself. For instance, why are you wearing your wedding ring again? You weren’t last month.’

He glanced at the simple gold band on his finger, a peculiar look crossing his features. It dissipated so quickly she almost missed it. But its haunting quality lodged a stone in her chest.

Before she could question it, his desk phone rang. His gaze flicked over her as he reached for it. ‘I’ve arranged for dinner to be served earlier tonight, at six-thirty, for Annabelle’s sake. We’ll decide then on the best routine for all of us going forward.’

For an insane second, she wanted to rip the phone out of his hands, chuck it through the window and demand he answer her questions. But he’d already swung his leather seat towards the window, shutting her out as if she’d ceased to exist for him.

She grabbed her laptop and marched from the room before the temptation to smash it over his head overcame her.

A headache niggled at her temples. Although tempted to blame it on the effects of travelling through several time zones, she knew Cesare was the reason for it.

From the start, he’d imprinted himself so indelibly on her psyche that it had seemed as if Fate herself had willed it so. Even now, she only had to see him to feel a part of her unravelling, for her insides to weaken.

She hated herself for those weak moments almost as much as she hated herself for what she’d let happen in the hallway. It’d only taken a handful of minutes for him to reduce her from a sane, rational woman to a heap of shuddering wantonness. And for him to gloat about it.

She entered the salone, walked past the sumptuous green and white overstuffed chairs and whitewashed tables and chose her favourite seat—an elegantly carved chaise longue facing the breathtaking view of the lake.

After switching on her laptop, she resolutely fished out her iPod and stuck the earphones on in the hope that the music would drown out the sinking realisation that she only had to think about Cesare for him to take a hold of her mind and, it seemed, her body.

Clicking on the application she needed, she read over the list of locations she needed to visit and typed up a suitable schedule and the cameras she would require.

Reynaldo Marinello and Tina Sanchez were the Posh and Becks of Italy. The renowned footballer’s engagement to his pop-star girlfriend six months ago had sparked a media frenzy, which Ava normally tried to avoid.

Witnessing the post-earthquake devastation in Bali, however, had sparked a need to raise awareness and money for disaster-stricken areas through her photography—which meant she couldn’t afford to turn down lucrative assignments like these.