There was a mewling cry from down below and Lara looked down to see Hero, looking up at her with huge liquid brown eyes. It turned out that she was been a cross between a whippet and something else. Cleaned up, and getting fatter by the day, she wasn’t a pretty dog by any means—but she was adorable, mainly white with brown patches. The vet had said that he figured she was crossed with a Jack Russell.
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A couple of times Lara had gone searching for her, only to find her curled up at Ciro’s feet in his study. He’d pretended not to have noticed her, and when Lara had carried her out she’d whispered into her fur, ‘I don’t blame you, sweetheart. I know how it feels.’
Hero would lick her face, as if in commiseration for the fact that they were both in thrall to Ciro Sant’Angelo.
Lara absently stroked Hero and she lay down at her feet, curling up trustingly. She said to Ciro, ‘Thank you for letting me keep her.’
Ciro shrugged, and then he looked at his watch. ‘You wanted to visit the Guggenheim Museum, didn’t you?’
Lara nodded, surprised he’d remembered her saying that the other night at a function.
‘I can take the afternoon off—we’ll go after lunch.’
Lara felt a dangerous fluttering in her belly and said, ‘Oh, it’s okay...you don’t have to. I can go by myself—’
‘Don’t you want me to come with you?’
Lara could feel her face grow hot. This teasing, relaxed Ciro was so reminiscent of how he’d been before that it was painful. ‘Of course I’d love to see it with you.’
Ciro stood up. ‘Va bene. I’ve a few calls to make—we’ll leave in an hour.’
Lara watched him leave, striding off the terrace back into the house. She took a deep breath—anything to try and get oxygen to her brain and keep herself from imagining impossible things.
Like the fact that Ciro might actually be learning to like her again...
* * *
The following day Ciro watched Lara play on the lawn with the puppy from the window in his study. She was wearing shorts and her long slim legs had taken on a light golden glow. She wore a silk cropped top and he could see tantalising slivers of her belly when it rode up as she moved.
He might have cursed her for trying to tempt him, but he knew she wasn’t even aware that he’d come home early. Home early. Since when had he started to come home early? Or work from home? Or take afternoons off to go to a museum? The only person who’d ever had that effect on him was on her back, laughing as the puppy climbed all over her, yapping excitedly.
There was a bone-deep sense of satisfaction in his body from night after night of mind-blowing sex. He’d stopped sending Lara back to her own bed. She effectively shared his room now—something he’d never done with another woman, far too wary of inviting an intimacy that would be misread, or taken advantage of.
And they’d spent hours wandering around the Guggenheim the day before. It had been one of the most pleasant afternoons Ciro could remember in a long time.
As he looked at Lara now he had to acknowledge that his desire for her wasn’t waning. Far from it. It seemed to be intensifying. But if he stuck to his agreement with her they’d be divorcing—at the earliest in only a few months. That thought sent something not unlike panic into his gut.
So far she’d fulfilled her side of the marriage, and introduced him to people who would never have welcomed him into their sphere before. He had a list of new deals to consider. Invitations to events and places he’d never been allowed access to before. All because of her.
But in truth, he found it hard to focus on that when she filled his vision and he spent most days reliving the night before and anticipating the night ahead.
She was not what he’d expected. More like the Lara he’d known first. And if this was an elaborate act, then what was the point? He couldn’t figure it out, but something wasn’t matching up...
At that moment his phone rang and he answered it impatiently, only half listening as he watched Lara throwing a ball for the puppy.
He turned away from the view, though, after his solicitor had finished speaking. ‘Repeat what you just said.’
‘I said that we know who was behind the kidnapping, Ciro, and I don’t think you’re going to like what you hear.’
* * *
The sun was throwing long shadows on the grass by the time Lara picked up Hero and went back inside the house. All was quiet except for the dull hum of Manhattan traffic outside.
But then she heard a sound coming from the main reception room, and put Hero down in her bed before investigating. She walked in to find Ciro throwing back a shot of alcohol. Predictably, her heart rate increased.
‘I didn’t know you were home.’