A grim smile crossed his mouth. Had Ava asked for a divorce two months ago, hell, even the day before the earthquake, he probably would have granted it. But not now. He ripped the papers until they were indecipherable pieces.
He still didn’t have it in him to offer her what she wanted, but he, if nothing else, was a damned good negotiator. There would be no divorce.
So what now?
Hell if he knew. He would just have to work it out later.
CHAPTER NINE
AVA PACED THE length of the guest room, unable to calm her frenzied pulse or her mind’s racing.
First Cesare pushed her away, then he wanted her to fall into his arms. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to quell her body’s clamouring for what she’d stubbornly denied it. But her pulse wouldn’t quieten. The thought that she’d come within a hair’s breadth of making love to Cesare again after so long sent her pacing faster. She should be thankful she’d resisted him.
Yeah, right.
Truth was, she wanted to jump her husband so badly, she could barely think straight. The heat of his body, the intoxicating scent of his hard-packed muscles rose in her mind like the promise of a delectable feast after an endless famine.
Would that be so wrong?
She felt herself sway towards the door and dug her toes hard into the luxurious carpet. What was she thinking? Sure, he’d been shocked when she walked away from him. But he hadn’t followed. And he’s not exactly breaking down your door, is he?
While she was in here torturing herself, he was probably enjoying the view, nightcap in hand, or halfway to securing another multi-million euro deal.
Whirling, she stalked to the window.
The stunning vista of night time Rome lay before her. Cesare’s penthouse apartment sat atop a converted luxury villa off Campo de Fiori and commanded views as far as the Vatican and St Peter’s Dome.
Was he staring at the same view? Raising a hand to the window, she watched her skin heat the cool glass. The view outside faded when she caught a glimpse of herself in the reflection.
Wild, fiery hair, tangled into shameless disarray by Cesare’s seeking hands. Her eyes were wide pools of confusion and hurt she wanted to hide away from and her lips were swollen and bruised with Cesare’s kisses. She wasn’t surprised to see her chest rise and fall as if she’d run a marathon.
And all because of the man whose presence impacted her life and emotions as effortlessly as if she were a puppet on his string.
Her breath rushed out, frosted the glass, distorting her view as she remembered... In the fevered chaos of the kiss and the argument that had followed, they’d never got round to talking about the solution to their problems.
She eyed the door, then almost in a trance, her hand went to the button securing her dress at her nape. With one short fumble, it pooled at her feet. She contemplated taking a shower, but feared her resolve would desert her if she delayed for too long.
Padding to the dresser, she picked up her hairbrush. The rhythmic strokes reinforced her strength, which in turn abated the haunted look in her eyes. She hadn’t needed a bra with her dress, but she still wore her thong. The thought of going to Cesare naked heated up her blood, but she quickly abandoned the idea.
Crossing to the wardrobe, she selected a short forest-green silk night slip and matching gown of hers she’d found when she’d unpacked earlier. Shrugging them on, she tied the gown and quickly left the room before she lost her nerve.
The hallway was as quiet as when she’d walked down it a short while ago. The dimmed light in the living room revealed it as empty as the kitchen and terrace.
The idea of confronting Cesare in his bedroom sent a confidence-shaking shiver of alarm through her. Slowly, she walked towards his door and paused outside. Catching her lower lip between her teeth, she listened for sound within. What if he was asleep?
Or, worse, he’d reverted to the cool, distant man she’d grown to hate this past year? Fear of rejection dried her mouth but she didn’t back down. Inhaling deeply, she turned the knob.
He was lounging against the king-size bed’s intricately designed headboard, a glass of cognac in one hand and an electronic tablet in the other.
His gaze snapped and locked on hers. Slowly he placed the glass on the nightstand.
Ava’s eyes landed on his bare chest and hot air seared her lungs. She’d seen his naked torso many times but the sheer magnitude of his potent masculinity never ceased to raise her temperature.
‘To what do I owe the pleasure, cara?’