Captivated by Her Innocence

He shook his head, the stammer always melted him. ‘No, I’m fine.’

A furrow pleated her brow. He didn’t look fine or sound fine. Distant was the word that came to mind when she looked at him.

‘Angel is back on Tuesday?’

She nodded.

‘I don’t know if you’ve discussed it, so when you leave is obviously between you two.’ He saw the look of shock on her face, the hurt reflected in her blue eyes and told himself this was the right thing to do, easier in the long run.

He couldn’t give her what she wanted.

‘But if I don’t see you...’

Another man would give her what she wanted.

Cesare closed his eyes and breathed through a blast of white-hot jealous fury and reached into his pocket as he cleared his throat.

‘If I don’t see you before...’

* * *

Her brow furrowed. Anna didn’t immediately realise what it was he had casually tossed onto the bed, then as she picked it up and recognised what it was her expression froze. The warmth drained from her body; she was ice.

‘What is this?’ she asked, no discernible expression in her flat voice as she stared at the sparkling diamond bracelet she held between her fingers.

‘You don’t like it?’ He shrugged. ‘No problem—you can return it and exchange it for something more to your taste if you prefer.’

No problem? No problem being treated like some sort of call girl paid for services rendered? Her chest tight with the emotions clenched like a fist there, Anna exhaled a long, slow, shaky breath and in one motion swept back the sheet and got to her feet. She was naked, every pale inch of her shivering with fury.

She tossed back her hair and took a step towards him, arching a haughty brow as she pinned him with a frosty, iridescent blue stare.

Unable to retain eye contact, Cesare looked downwards, his darkened eyes greedily caressing every inch of her pearly, sleek, quivering body. She was the living, breathing embodiment of his darkest fantasies.

‘And if I prefer the money?’ she challenged, baring her white teeth in a parody of a smile.

The comment enabled Cesare to drag his rampant stare back to her face. His dark brows flattened into a disapproving straight line as he rasped, ‘Do not be stupid.’

‘Why stupid?’ she asked, affecting elaborate surprise. ‘Isn’t this a payment for services rendered?’ Her lips twisted with distaste as she stared at the bracelet.

He swore and wondered if one day he might be able to appreciate the irony—the one time in his life he had ever felt compelled to walk into a jeweller’s because something in the window had made him think of her.

‘Do not act like a call girl. This is not you.’ He clenched his teeth and struggled for a level of calm. ‘If you do not like it—’

‘And if you don’t like me acting like a call girl don’t treat me like one!’ she yelled, flinging the bracelet at him.

Without taking his eyes from her face, he reached out and caught the glittering projectile.

‘Like it!’ she all but screamed. ‘I hate it and I hate you. How dare you insult me with your crappy bracelets? If you’re bored just say so, that’s fine, but don’t you dare try and pay me off!’

His jaw clenched, Cesare let the bracelet fall to the floor from his lax fingers and dragged a hand through his dark hair.

This was not going well.

And you really expected this to end well, Cesare? asked the wry voice in his head.

She was being unreasonable, shrill, emotional. She was being all the things he hated and he wanted to hold her, he wanted to take her in his arms and lay her on the bed...

She was being Anna.

‘I cannot do this.’

Anna blinked back the tears filling her eyes. ‘Oh, yes, you can. You’ve had a lot of practice. This is a first for me.’

Did she think he needed reminding?

She swallowed past the restriction in her throat. ‘So, sorry if I’m behaving like a human bloody being.’ With a sob she flung herself on the bed face down.

Anna thought she felt his hand on her hair, but she must have imagined it because later when she rolled over the room was empty and her eyes were red and puffy.

* * *

Anna, her eyes still puffy and swollen from the crying jag, pushed away the memory of the monumental fight—she supposed the moment your heart broke was bound to linger—and struggled to focus on what Angel was saying.

‘So what time is your flight tomorrow?’ Tomorrow she would be effectively surplus to requirements and it looked as though Cesare had already moved on, which was no shock. It might have been what she had anticipated, but he could have waited until she had packed her bags; he might have waited around to say goodbye.