‘Did you get lost?’ A sardonic lift of one brow was accompanied by a smile that set off a sudden round of fireworks in her belly. The desire she’d been trying so hard to fight lurched through her anew.
She shook her head, her throat parched at this man’s sudden appearance. Even more so when his eyes lowered, carrying out a visual inspection of her body in the pale-grey silk slip she wore.
Her heart in her throat, she turned to face him, the action bringing them toe to toe.
‘You’re shorter than I would have thought,’ he murmured so that it was Jemima’s turn to lift her brows in silent enquiry. ‘Most of the models I know are closer to my height.’
‘And I suppose you know lots of models?’ The words emerged husky and soft, and for some reason she didn’t step back from him, even when it would have made sense to put a little distance between them.
‘A few,’ he confirmed in a way that made her certain he was intentionally under-stating the facts. But then his expression sobered and he was looking at her more intently, concentrating on her features as though committing them to memory. ‘You are tiny. Like a little bird.’
Her lop-sided smile was spontaneous. ‘I don’t think anyone’s ever called me that before.’
He continued to stare at her and her smile dropped. She was conscious of everything: the feeling of her breath in her body, the sound of his, the warmth from his chest, the parting of his lips.
‘Anyway.’ She shifted her eyes towards the door with effort. ‘Laurence will be wondering what’s keeping me.’
Cesare’s expression shifted immediately. ‘On the contrary, I think it is fair to say his entire focus is on whether or not I’m going to save his ass from financial ruin.’
At that, Jemima’s gaze skittled back to Cesare. No one knew about Laurence’s situation. He’d taken great care to hide the parlous state of the fund, particularly given the risky investments he’d been making with other people’s capital. She tried not to think about the fact that he’d drawn her into this mess, nor to wonder whether that made her some kind of accessory. No one was supposed to know. Surely this man, this fascinating, handsome hunk of an Italian tycoon, couldn’t really have any idea as to the full extent of Laurence’s situation?
‘You’re surprised?’ He correctly interpreted the look flitting across her expressive face. Her skin paled, her lips parted, and she stayed resolutely silent—for lack of any certainty about just what to say.
His body shifted, moving ever so slightly closer to hers—by only a matter of degrees, but it was enough. Enough for everything about him to become bigger, stronger and more overpowering and for all the temptations she’d been fighting off to threaten to consume her. ‘Do I strike you as a man who would come to a meeting like this—or to any meeting, for that matter—unprepared?’
‘No.’ The answer was intuitive.
Approval warmed his face and he nodded, just once, not moving his eyes from her face. ‘So you’re what—bait?’
She frowned, not understanding.
‘Did Laurence think that having you at the table would distract me sufficiently to make me rush into this investment? That I’d put aside common sense and offer to buy into his hedge fund to the tune of half a billion pounds just because the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen happened to be fluttering her lashes at me all evening?’
It wasn’t really a compliment, yet butterflies beat their wings against the sides of her belly. There was an insult in there, or at the very least the hint of condemnation. A need to defend her cousin stiffened her spine. ‘On the contrary, Laurence simply wanted it to feel like a pleasant evening rather than purely business.’
Cesare’s wolf-like smile showed how little he believed that statement. ‘This is business.’ He growled the words out. ‘And I never let anything affect my judgement where business is concerned.’ He moved closer, so now his arm brushed against hers, and she had to suck in a sharp breath of air—which was a mistake, because it tasted of him, all hyper-masculine and citrusy.
‘Although, you have made that hard to remember at times.’
Another compliment buried in a tone that was somehow derisive. She stared up at him, the pale overhead light catching her hair so it shone like threads of precious gold. ‘Have I?’
His expression was droll. ‘As I’m sure you’re aware.’ He lifted a hand, running a finger across her cheek, and she trembled in response. ‘It was an excellent gambit.’ His thumb padded across her lower lip and desire sparked like flames against her sides. ‘I can see why he would think you might win me over.’
‘That wasn’t his intention.’ Her voice came out stiff and cultured, her tone plummy enough to please even her mother.
Cesare’s laugh spread through her veins like warmed caramel. ‘Yes, it was. Perhaps he didn’t inform you of that, but I have no doubt your cousin believed that serving you up on a silver platter would make this deal go through more smoothly.’
‘I’m not being served up, to you or anyone,’ she demurred without moving backwards, even when she knew she had to. ‘I often accompany Laurence on business meetings.’ It wasn’t particularly convincing.
‘Really?’ He lowered his hand to her shoulder, his eyes chasing the gesture, fixating on the exposed flesh there, pale cream with a pearl-like translucence.
‘You find that hard to believe?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it’s hardly your scene, is it?’
‘My scene?’ Her heart threw an extra beat into its rhythm.
‘International supermodel attends dinner meeting regarding finance fund?’
His mockery made her pulse skitter. ‘You think the two are mutually exclusive, Mr Durante?’
‘Call me Cesare.’
She found she couldn’t resist. ‘Cesare.’ His name in her mouth was erotic. She pronounced it as he had, ‘Che-zar-eh’, then swallowed, trying to quell the buzzing that was spreading through her. ‘It doesn’t matter what I call you. It doesn’t change the fact that your opinion is pretty offensive.’
‘Name three of the companies your cousin has stakes in.’
She blinked.
‘Any three. There are twenty-seven in the hedge fund.’
Heat bloomed in her cheeks. ‘I’m not interested in the details.’
‘No, you’re not. And you’re not here to talk business.’
‘You honestly think I’m here as some kind of inducement to you?’
He shrugged. ‘I cannot fathom any other reason for your presence.’
She glared at him, shaking her head. ‘Yeah, well, you’re wrong…’
‘I doubt that.’ His eyes bore into hers and then swept her face. ‘You know, I’ve seen your photo dozens of times. You’re everywhere—on buses, billboards, television. You are beautiful always, but in person you are much more so.’ He frowned, as though he hadn’t intended this to be a compliment. ‘If Laurence thought I would lose my mind and simply agree to sign on the bottom line, then he played an excellent bargaining chip.’ He dropped his head lower so his lips were only inches from hers. ‘I suspect one night with you would be worth half a billion pounds.’
Desire was like a tidal wave crashing over her.
‘You don’t know anything about me,’ she murmured, but didn’t move away.
His lips twisted cynically. ‘I know what the rumours say. I know that you and Clive Angmore had an affair that almost ended his marriage, despite the fact he was in his sixties and you were barely legal.’
Her heart strangled at that familiar accusation. It was surprising how much it hurt coming from Cesare. After all, she’d lived alongside Clive’s lies for a long time—she’d thought she’d developed a thicker skin than this. But hearing Cesare shame her for the supposed affair cut her to the quick.
‘And you blame me for that?’
‘No.’ His eyes were thoughtful. ‘As I said, you were just a teenager.’
If she’d been surprised by the hurt hi
s accusation had caused then his next statement was a balm she also hadn’t expected. ‘Surely you’re too intelligent to believe everything you read in the paper?’
‘Not everything,’ he murmured, the words drugging her with their sensual tone. ‘But I’ve also observed that the old adage “where there’s smoke, there’s fire” is often true.’
She compressed her lips. It bothered her so much that he had clearly bought into all the rumours, was so believing of the image that the press had created of her ‘out of control’ lifestyle.
‘You’re wrong, Mr Durante.’ She deliberately reverted to the use of his formal name. ‘I’m here to support my cousin, and nothing more.’ Her voice wobbled a little, but she was pleased with the coldness of her tone. And now, finally, she side-stepped him, gratefully breathing in Durante-free air.