Marriage Made of Secrets

He inhaled sharply. ‘A lot has changed—’

‘I’m very much aware of that. Staying away wasn’t going to make it any better.’

‘So why return earlier than we planned?’ he enquired.

‘Because this isn’t just about you, Cesare. Life goes on and I need to make sure Annabelle returns to normal as quickly as possible. Besides, when I told you my plans had changed, I meant it. I’ve been contracted to cover the Marinello wedding.’

He frowned. ‘You’re an award-winning documentary photographer. When did you branch into covering celebrity weddings?’

‘Annabelle needs to be around the familiar for the foreseeable future. I’m not taking her on assignment to the far reaches of the planet. She needs me to be here.’

His jaw tightened. ‘The Marinello wedding is turning into a media circus. I won’t have Annabelle exposed to that sort of environment.’

‘I’ve never let my work disrupt her life in any way. It definitely won’t this time round.’

‘You didn’t think to inform me of this Marinello thing before now?’

‘Just take it as the side effect of my aversion to being abandoned.’

‘You weren’t abandoned. Annabelle needed medical care and she couldn’t travel before then.’

‘Yes, but that stay wasn’t indefinite. Although I’m beginning to suspect maybe that’s what you had in mind.’

‘It wasn’t. I agree that Annabelle needs to be home, but not...’ He paused.

The cold grip on her spine intensified. ‘Not your wife?’ When he refused to reply, she let out a shaky breath. ‘You don’t have to say it, Cesare.’ Her smile cracked around the edges. ‘Annabelle’s welfare is my priority right now. As long as she remains okay, you can go back to being indifferent to me. Or go back to Rome.’

A dangerous gleam flashed through his eyes. He balled his fists, his nostrils flaring. For a very long time he didn’t speak. The air crackled with each charged heartbeat. Finally, he rasped, ‘I’m staying here for the summer.’

Her heart skipped a beat, then immediately fell when she read the displeasure on his face. ‘Then this is going to be very awkward for one of us.’

‘I don’t want you here. Not right now.’

The blunt words stung deep.

‘Why not?’

‘I’m in the middle of...’ He stopped and shoved a hand through his hair. ‘We both know things haven’t been right between us for a while. But I can’t be...distracted by anything right now.’

She pulled in a shaky breath and reminded herself why she was doing this. She set her bag down on the coffee table in the middle of the room. ‘The state of your marriage is an inconvenient distraction?’

A nerve pulsed in his jaw. ‘Especially the state of our marriage. If you’d stayed in Bali—’

‘I didn’t. You like to control people and things around you but I’m not one of them. This is your home as much as it is mine so I can’t exactly throw you out. So you’ll just have to tolerate my presence here, just like you have to tolerate your daughter.’

‘Tolerate her? I’m her father.’

‘Trust me, I know a thing or two about being tolerated. I don’t think you’d want your performance as a father or husband to be rated. You wouldn’t like the results.’

His colour receded a little beneath his vibrant tan and the room seemed to darken with turbulent forces. She watched him visibly swallow. ‘If you want the civilised conversation you claim to want, I’d advise you to tread carefully, Ava. What is happening between us will not affect our daughter.’

She tried to stop the pain from biting deep. Selecting a seat as far away from his forceful presence as possible, she sat down.

‘That’s one thing we can agree on, at least. I suggest we set up a schedule. You spend time with her in the mornings while I meet with my clients; I’ll take over in the afternoons. As long as she’s happy, I need not interfere in...whatever it is you think I’m interrupting.’

He gave a harsh laugh. ‘You’re as non-interfering as a bull in a china shop.’

‘Only when I need to be.’ Like when confronted with an icily cold, angry, astoundingly gorgeous Italian male who threw out commands like they were sweets at a kids’ party. Or when you grew up isolated in a house ruled by a distant father who treated you as if you were invisible and brothers who were more than happy to emulate their father. ‘Sometimes it’s the only way people take notice of you.’

‘Is that why you’ve returned so suddenly? You want me to take notice of you?’ he enquired with disquieting softness.

That voice, that precise, perfectly pitched cadence, bathed her skin in goose bumps that had nothing to do with pain and everything to do with unwanted memories. It threatened to dominate her senses. Forcing them away took much more effort than she was happy with. ‘I’m here because my daughter needs to be home.’

Another dangerous gleam darkened his eyes. ‘Our daughter. She’s as much mine as she is yours, Ava.’

She stormed to her feet. ‘Really? You’ve barely seen her in the past year. You choose to stay in Rome and make one excuse after another as to why you don’t come home any more. So what are you doing here, really? What’s changed? What’s prompted this sudden yearning to play papà?’

A peculiar look crossed his face, too quick for her to assess its meaning. ‘She’s my daughter. My blood. There was never any question that I’d resume my parental rights.’

‘Resume! You can’t press pause on parenting every time you feel like it. So what, now you’ve suddenly found time to slot her into your schedule? For how long? What if another deal suddenly crops up in Abu Dhabi or Doha or Outer Mongolia? You’ll press pause again and fly off in pursuit of your next venture?’

A frown darkened his brow. ‘You think I’ll abandon Annabelle for a business deal?’

‘Oh, don’t act so annoyed. How many times did you leave me to jet off to parts unknown when another too-good-to-miss deal cropped up?’

He waved her away like a troublesome fly. ‘That was different.’

The uncaring delivery of his words stole her breath. ‘You expect me to think things will change because we’re talking about your daughter now instead of your wife? When you didn’t have any trouble choosing business over returning to bring her from Bali?’

Ava had spent far too much time torturing herself with the whys. What she needed was to concern herself less with the why? and more with the why now? Cesare never made a move without calculating at least a dozen steps ahead. Which made his sudden decision to summer at Lake Como and demand to have his daughter all the more suspect.

Dangerously suspect.

‘Things have changed, Ava.’

‘Enlighten me, then. How exactly have things changed?’

His gaze slid away. ‘The earthquake was an eye-opener for us all, I won’t deny it. I agree that Annabelle needs the safe and familiar around her right now. Both our jobs are very demanding. If something unavoidable comes up, she’ll be adequately cared for. Lucia will step in for now until I can hire another nanny. Between them, she’ll be cared for around the clock.’

She sucked in a breath. ‘Lord, you have the nerve to say the earthquake was an eye-opener but in the next breath you admit you’d happily abandon your daughter when the lure of a business deal proves too much!’

His stare turned icier. ‘I’ll make time for her as much as possible, but my work doesn’t stop just because it’s the summer vacation. I can’t just abandon it.’

‘Of course you can’t. I’m not even sure why I’m surprised. Cesare di Goia, venture capitalist with the Midas touch, hasn’t changed one iota, has he—?’

‘Annabelle turns four in a few weeks.’

Thrown by the sudden turn of the conversation, she frowned. ‘Yes, I’m very much aware of that. I’ve made plans.’

He glanced at his sleek silver watch. ‘But if you’re covering the Marinello wedding, you’ll need to be in Tuscany for the next three weeks.’

‘I see you’re well informed.’

He shrugged. ‘For some reason, Agata Marinello seems to think I need updating on every detail of her son’s wedding arrangements.’

‘You’re the guest of honour and your company is bankrolling Reynaldo Marinello’s reality show. You don’t need a crystal ball to suss why she wants to stay on your sweet side. Besides, I think all the guests receive email and social media updates.’

‘Which is exactly why I’ve blocked her messages as of this morning.’ A look of impatience crossed his face. ‘I haven’t even officially accepted the wedding invitation yet. Not with everything that’s going on—’ He stopped and shook his head. ‘I’ll ask for the jet to be refuelled. Paolo will deliver you to the airport within the hour to take you to Tuscany. Annabelle will remain here with me. When you’re done with the wedding, we’ll talk.’ He started to cross the room towards the house intercom.

Feigning ease she didn’t feel, she settled back in her chair and took her time to cross her legs. ‘I see you’re all about minimising your carbon footprint.’

He paused mid-stride. ‘You know my line of work necessitates the use of a private jet. If I didn’t, I’d suffer permanently from jet lag.’

‘Yes, I’m sure all the environmental charities would love that explanation.’ She’d aimed for spiky snark intended to win her further ground. Instead her reply faltered as her treacherous mind conjured up the very effective means by which Cesare conquered jetlag—the enormous king-size bed in the larger, chrome and grey bedroom of his Gulfstream. The silky satin sheets, the soft, decadent pillows...the en suite made-for-two shower...her intensely erotic initiation into the mile-high club...

She tried to stare him down, but heat slowly crawled up her neck, stung her cheeks. She knew her pale skin had given her away when a small knowing smile whispered over his lips.

‘I’m sure they’ll allow me this small concession given my support of their other eco-saving efforts. Now, if you’ve finished berating me, I’ll instruct Lucia to provide you with some refreshments before you leave.’ He walked towards the villa’s intercom next to the extensive drinks cabinet and lifted the receiver.

Any lingering arousal fled as his statement sank in.

‘The Marinellos changed their wedding venue three days ago—the official stance is a termite infestation at their Tuscany villa but I’m guessing your being here has something to do with the wedding’s relocation to Lake Como.’ She shrugged at his frown. ‘I’m meeting with them tomorrow afternoon to discuss staging and the pre-wedding catalogue. But even that notwithstanding, I don’t think you’ve quite grasped what I’m trying to tell you. Annabelle and I are a package deal, Cesare. Where I go, she goes.’

Slowly—excruciatingly slowly—he replaced the handset. Ava’s heart thumped so hard against her ribs she feared the organ would expire from overuse.

‘I warn you against rocking the boat, Ava. This isn’t really the time to bring things to a head between us.’ His voice was soft but edged in steel.

‘And maybe you need to give up this false pretence of trying to play papà, return to Rome and just let us be.’

He lounged against the wall, sliding long fingers into his pockets in a display of utter calm. But she wasn’t fooled. The lazy way his gaze raked her from head to toe only served to raise her hackles, along with her pulse rate.

Warning shrieked in her head. Cesare was most dangerous at his calmest. He hadn’t built a globally successful venture capitalist company without being extremely calculating and ruthless where he needed to be.

He shrugged amiably, as if they were discussing which entrée to have. ‘No, you’re right. On second thoughts, maybe this is just what we need.’

A thread of trepidation unfurled in the pit of her stomach. ‘And what exactly is this?’

‘To have this marriage brought under the scrutiny it deserves,’ he delivered. ‘For us to stop avoiding the fact that this marriage is anything but a sham. Maybe once we face facts, I can get round to discussing the more important issue of custody of my daughter.’

Her laughter was so strained it scraped her throat. ‘And you think when that happens I’d allow you anywhere near Annabelle?’ It didn’t click that she’d surged to her feet, that she’d bridged the gap between them, until her forefinger jabbed his chest. ‘You really think any judge on earth would grant custody to a less than part-time father who’s abandoned his daughter for most of her life?’

CHAPTER TWO

CESARE FLINCHED, THE sting of her words like whips lacerating his skin; the stab of her finger pierced like a knife in his chest. Raw pain pounded with every heartbeat as Ava’s words barrelled into him.

He’d abandoned her.

When his daughter had needed him most, he’d failed her. He’d been unable to protect Annabelle...

Dark torment crept in, threatening to drown him every time he thought of what he’d let happen. He’d been too quick to believe...too swift to embrace his destiny.

And in choosing that path, he’d done the unforgivable.

The heart he thought had withered to nothing clenched hard. But within that torment, within the potent swirl of guilt and recrimination, a different emotion crept in.

Excitement. The guilt and recrimination were ever present, but alongside it a flood of hot excitement stole over his senses, awakening that treacherous desire he thought he’d slain a long time ago.

With every ounce of control he possessed, he tried to push it away, but like a drowning victim accepting the inevitable, he let it close in on him, submerge him deeper in its relentless maelstrom.

Dio, he felt...alive; from her single touch, he felt more alive than he had in a very long time. More than he deserved to feel after what he’d done.

Ava’s finger jabbed him again, but all he could think, could feel, was how much cleaner the air smelled—richer, bringing a clarity that had eluded him for a long time.

‘From the moment she was born, you abandoned her.’ Her rough, pain-racked whisper stabbed deeper than if she’d shouted. ‘And the day of the earthquake, you were supposed to spend time with her; instead you were on a conference call! You palmed her off on Rita—’

He wrenched back control and sucked in a breath. ‘The minute I knew what was happening, I went in search of her. We both did. We tore apart that Bali marketplace with our bare hands.’ Until they’d bled both inside and out.

Her hand dropped and she shook her head. ‘Do you know how it feels to know neither of us were with her when the earthquake hit?’ she whispered in anguish.

The thought tortured him day and night. ‘Sì, I know. I’ve lived with that horror every day since. I know how very easily we could’ve lost her. But I also thank God she was found.’ Someone else had dug his daughter out of the submerged marketplace. Someone else had cared for Annabelle, taken her to the hospital and taken the time to put her photograph on the missing person’s wall. ‘We may not have found her ourselves but she was found,’ he repeated. ‘She was all right. She was alive.’ Somehow, miraculously, his daughter had survived the devastating earthquake that had killed tens of thousands.

And, for as long as he lived, he intended to make sure his daughter never came to harm again.

‘She was all right,’ she repeated numbly. ‘So you just thought you’d carry on being emotionally unavailable to her again?’ Her words were hushed, but the pain behind them ripped through the silence.

Icy calm slowly built inside him, pushing aside his pain. Cesare welcomed it. ‘I was there, Ava.’

Her face hardened and she folded her arms around her ribcage. ‘You mean just like you’re here now? In the same room but wishing you were somewhere else?’

His jaw tightened. Ava would never know how difficult it had been to keep from roaring his gut-ripping pain when he’d believed Annabelle was lost to him. She thought him cold. But he’d had to be, he’d had to shut off his emotions, to shut off any hint of yearning for what he couldn’t have.

Except for Annabelle.

His daughter was the one thing he wasn’t prepared to give up.

It’d taken him years to finally heed the warning he’d blindly ignored. To accept that he had no business taking a wife, never mind fathering a child.

He might be astute when it came to business but his personal relationships had always come at a price. A very steep price, he’d come to realise.

‘And now you’ve decided you want your daughter you think you can just click your fingers to make it happen?’

‘It was always going to happen. I’m sorry if you believed otherwise.’ The horrendous events of the past few weeks had painfully brought home to him that Annabelle was the only child he’d ever have. And now she was here—albeit earlier than he’d anticipated—he had no intention of letting her go.

‘Your arrogance is astounding, you know that?’

‘Isn’t it one of the things about me that turns you on?’ He had the fleeting satisfaction of watching colour surge under her skin. Anger soon replaced her blush.

‘Dream on. Your attraction level has dropped lower than the temperatures in the Antarctic.’

His fiery moglie had the tendency to lash out first and think about the consequences later. Wasn’t that what had drawn him to her in the first place? Her vibrancy? Her blind, uncontrollable passion for life?

He sidestepped that reminder.

With a swish of her brightly coloured skirt, she stalked to the window. Cesare caught himself following the sway of her hips and reined himself in. Things were fast getting out of hand.

Again.

Their first meeting had been a heady, mind-blowing experience. She’d been a potion to end all sweet potions, lighting up his days, blazing through his nights like a spectacular comet. Against his every instinct, he’d let his guard down.

Once again he’d let a woman get under his skin. Something he’d sworn to himself and to his brother, Roberto, he’d never let happen again.

Cesare had walked out of his last meeting in Abu Dhabi the minute he’d learned Ava had summoned his plane. He’d even contemplated ordering his pilot to return her to Bali. But he’d known she would’ve found another way of achieving her goal.

She turned, arms folded in battle stance. He suppressed a grim smile. His Ava hadn’t changed. Corner her and the fierce lioness emerged.

Except she wasn’t his. He never should’ve taken her in the first place—although the exhilaration of being her first lover still made his blood pump faster—never should’ve placed the di Goia emerald on her finger...

His gaze fell to her bare fingers. ‘Where is your wedding ring?’ The burning need to know erased every other thought from his head.

Surprise widened eyes the same colour as the famous di Goia family heirloom. ‘My wedding ring?’ she echoed.

‘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.