Cathy Williams - Summer Loving

‘Sì. Where is it?’

‘In a box...somewhere. What does it matter?’ she challenged.

Cesare had the completely irrational urge to grab her arms and shake her, demand to know why the ring wasn’t on her finger. Instead, he jammed his fists into his pockets and forced himself to stay put.

‘Just checking that you hadn’t donated it to the commune you were growing fond of in Bali.’

Her arms tightened. ‘I’m glad to see you think so highly of me, Cesare. And I don’t need to pawn your jewellery off to help the causes I believe in. I’m more than well compensated for my job to fund my charitable endeavours.’

Did she realise how gripping her arms so tightly pushed her breasts up, so they looked even fuller, more tempting? The faint outline of her areolas against the white of her cotton halter top and the faint freckles marching across her chest sent the pulse kicking in his groin.

‘Do you have a lover?’

Dio, where the hell had that come from? He raked unsteady fingers through his hair, the sheer astonishment his question caused clearly reflected in the slack-jawed look on Ava’s face. But then was it really that astonishing? They’d spent so much time apart in the past year, he didn’t even know which circle of friends she moved in these days.

Whose fault is that?

Her hand fluttered to her neck, crept around to her nape and flipped her flaming hair over one shoulder. He followed the movement, his fascination with the ripple of sunlight through the long tresses causing him to tense further.

‘Don’t you dare go there with me, Cesare,’ she snapped.

Her non-answer made jealousy sear his insides. He’d distanced himself from her. She should be free to take other lovers. So why did his gut clench in sharp rejection of the idea?

‘Why? Did the commune make you sign an oath of secrecy?’

‘It wasn’t a commune. And the people there are—’

‘Eat, pray, love advocates?’

‘No, believe it or not, they’re professionals who’ve given up their time to help better the lives of others, especially the victims of the earthquake.’

‘In the hope of finding themselves in the process?’

Her lips firmed. ‘We can’t all find ourselves in the next multi-billion euro deal, Cesare. Why did you abandon your daughter?’

He gripped his nape, renewed tension clawing through him. ‘I thought it was better that I stay away. If it makes you feel better, call it an error of judgement on my part and leave it be.’

The understatement of the millennia. Marriage to Ava, Dio, to any woman, had never been on the cards for him. Not after what he’d put Roberto through. Not after Valentina...

In some ways, while he regretted the devastation it had wrought on countless lives, the earthquake had been his wake up call. His head had been wrenched violently from the sand. And now he had the rest of his life to made amends to his daughter.

‘An error of judgement?’ Ava shot back immediately, like a damned terrier intent on ravaging its favourite toy. ‘Does that include our marriage?’ she demanded.

Ignoring her, he strode to the drinks cabinet, curbing the urge to pour something stiff and bracing. He’d drunk himself into a stupor more than once this past year. He couldn’t afford to do so now. He needed to stay focused on the female who prowled restlessly behind him.

‘Answer me, Cesare. This...whatever’s going on between us...is it another woman?’ she persisted in that damned husky tone.

Bitter laughter escaped before he could stop it. He poured a tall glass of water and handed it to her. ‘Why do women always think it’s another woman?’

She gazed straight at him. ‘Because men are as predictable as the tide during a full moon.’

‘Would it make it easier if I said it was another woman?’

He didn’t miss the shaft of pain that flitted through her eyes. Her lips wobbled before she pursed them. But her gaze didn’t waver from his. ‘Is it?’

In a way he wished it had been as easy as infidelity. Because infidelity would mean he’d stop caring. Or wanting what he couldn’t have.

‘Turn down the Marinello gig. Return to your commune in Bali. Or take another assignment abroad. Give me the summer with Annabelle. We’ll talk when you return.’

Her eyes flashed rebellious fire at him. ‘No. Annabelle needs me. Besides, too much has happened for me to just up and leave on an assignment. I think deep down you know that.’

He silently conceded the point. The earthquake had changed things between Ava and him just as much as it’d altered his relationship towards his daughter. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, looking at Ava in battle mode he hadn’t witnessed for a long time, he knew in that instant he was screwed.

He gritted his teeth. ‘The foreign minister is a close friend. You didn’t become an Italian citizen when we married. All it would take is a single phone call and I can have you thrown out of the country. Do you realise that?’ He threw out the straw-clutching Hail Mary.

‘Yes,’ she stated simply, not in the least bit cowed. ‘But if I leave I take Annabelle with me.’

Against his will, his eyes strayed to the soft curve of her mouth. It would be as soft and supple as he remembered. Along with the rest of her.

Having her close would drive him crazy.

But the need to have his daughter close—to begin to repair the damage he’d caused outweighed all else. His internal debate lasted milliseconds.

‘Fine. We’ll both stay here for the summer.’

Her mouth dropped open, then her eyes narrowed. ‘That was a little too easy.’

‘Don’t delude yourself, Ava. This isn’t going to be easy for either of us. I know what you want and I can assure you I am unable to give it to you. What I can do is ensure Annabelle isn’t caught in the crossfire of our...situation. You understand?’

She sucked in a ragged breath and Cesare knew he’d got through to her. The late afternoon sun slanting through the windows danced over her fiery hair as she nodded.

Grimly satisfied that his control was under firm guard, he headed for the door, ruthlessly suppressing the old sensations pulling at him, reminding him that his attraction to Ava had always held a fatalistic edge that had excited him.

Doomed him. He’d let it get out of hand the same way he’d let the situation with Roberto and Valentina unravel...

‘So, does that mean you agree to a truce? That you won’t try anything double-crossy somewhere down the line?’

He turned back from the door.

Her eyes reflected a defiance that reluctantly sparked his admiration. None of his family or subordinates would dare press home their advantage this way.

But a line needed to be drawn. ‘That very much depends on you, cara. Your innate inability to not rush in where angels fear to tread could prove your undoing.’

Her lips tightened. ‘Are you calling me a fool?’

‘I’m inviting you to prove me wrong. Stay out of my way for the next six weeks and I’ll have no need to declare war on you.’

* * *

Ava frowned at the closed door, her mind a whirlpool of jumbled thoughts.

She walked over to the French windows and gazed at the sparkling infinity pool. Something was wrong with the picture Cesare was presenting her with.

Even as a newly-wed, she’d realised very quickly that business came first with Cesare. She’d lost count of the times he’d upped and left on a business trip on the strength of a single phone call.

Now, all of a sudden, he’d taken weeks off to spend his summer here.

She wanted to believe that living through a devastating earthquake had changed him...but it was painfully obvious that Cesare was determined to keep her at arm’s length.