Marriage Made of Secrets

‘Pour me a glass, would you?’ He nodded at her glass.

‘Do you think it’s a good idea?’

He surveyed her with the sleepy regard of a jungle predator. The taut smile that barely curved his lips was acutely discerning. ‘For me to drink wine, or for us to be in the same room at the same time?’

‘Both.’ She cursed her candid tongue and tried to address the less volatile issue. ‘Also, isn’t water the recommended drink after hectic exercise?’

Heat flared in her cheeks as his gaze turned even more intense. The torrid promise of sheet-burning sex pulsed between them. His nostrils flared for a second before he moved to the sink and ran his hands under the tap.

‘I drank water after the workout. Now I need something...stronger.’ His gaze dropped to her chest, his bold stare causing her breasts to grow heavier. ‘I’ll get the wine myself if you can’t stand to be here.’

The clear challenge made her bolder. The red in her hair and nature made backing down from a challenge an impossibility—or so she’d often been told.

She wouldn’t slink away like a scared puppy just because Cesare was in a testy mood. Setting her drink on the vast centre island, she pulled out a stool and perched on it.

Cesare grabbed a glass, brought over the plate of stromboli and placed it down between them. She poured his wine as he took a bite of bread. After taking a sip, he sat back and looked at her.

‘Sleep was eluding you also?’

‘I think sleep would elude any woman whose husband announces he never loved her and regrets marrying her.’

He tensed immediately. ‘Ava—’

‘It’s okay. No, actually, it’s not okay but I’m not about to launch into another bout of hysteria if that’s what you’re worried about.’

He exhaled. ‘You’re the last woman I’d accuse of hysterics. But grazie.’

The piece of pastry she popped into her mouth to delay her response tasted like sawdust with a hint of garlic. Taking another sip of wine helped her force it down, but realising another bite wasn’t a good idea because she risked choking, she put it down.

‘Don’t thank me just yet. I’m still reeling from the revelations about Roberto and about us. Just because I’m calm now doesn’t mean we don’t have a situation that doesn’t need to be resolved.’ Clearing her throat, she forced the words out. ‘I think it’s time we stop playing ostrich and take what’s happening between us to the next...permanent level.’

The violent scrape of the stool as he pushed it back on the tiled floor raked across nerves already raw with her ravaged emotions.

Cesare planted both hands on the smooth surface and glared fire and brimstone at her. ‘Di Goias do not divorce.’

Her mouth fell open. ‘Excuse me? Shouldn’t you have thought of that before you decided to enter a marriage you didn’t want?’

‘You were carrying my child. I had no choice.’ His lips barely moved with his words.

She sucked in a stunned breath. ‘Wow, you do know how to keep piling on the charm, don’t you? I’m sure you would’ve made some damsel a perfect husband in the Dark Ages. Unfortunately for you, we’re in the twenty-first century, so unless I signed on to this Di Goias Do Not Divorce without knowing about it, I don’t see that you have a choice.’

His glare intensified. ‘You knew we were only marrying because of Annabelle.’

‘Wrong! I thought you were marrying me because you loved me, that you wanted to make a family with me.’

He stepped back abruptly as if she’d physically assaulted him. ‘Again with the family!’

‘What is so wrong with that?’ she yelled, suddenly not feeling so calm any more.

‘I never confessed such a feeling.’

‘I know. Stupid me, mistranslating all those heated Italian endearments you whispered to me in bed as words of devotion and undying love.’

A dull flush washed across his taut cheekbones. ‘I never lied to you about my feelings in or out of bed.’

‘But you made me think you cared about me, that you wanted what I wanted. It was a lie by omission.’

As if frustrated with her logic, he whirled away from the island and started pacing in tight circles. She followed his prowl, helpless to avert her gaze because Cesare had always been a source of intense, almost worshipful fascination for her.

He finally returned and gripped the edge of the countertop. ‘I never lied to you, Ava. And I did care.’ His gaze speared hers, almost imploring, as if he willed her to believe him.