Marriage Made of Secrets

by Maya Blake

  A thread of trepidation unfurled in the pit of her stomach. ‘And what exactly is this?’

  ‘To have this marriage brought under the scrutiny it deserves,’ he delivered. ‘For us to stop avoiding the fact that this marriage is anything but a sham. Maybe once we face facts, I can get round to discussing the more important issue of custody of my daughter.’

  Her laughter was so strained it scraped her throat. ‘And you think when that happens I’d allow you anywhere near Annabelle?’ It didn’t click that she’d surged to her feet, that she’d bridged the gap between them, until her forefinger jabbed his chest. ‘You really think any judge on earth would grant custody to a less than part-time father who’s abandoned his daughter for most of her life?’

  CHAPTER TWO

  CESARE FLINCHED, THE sting of her words like whips lacerating his skin; the stab of her finger pierced like a knife in his chest. Raw pain pounded with every heartbeat as Ava’s words barrelled into him.

  He’d abandoned her.

  When his daughter had needed him most, he’d failed her. He’d been unable to protect Annabelle...

  Dark torment crept in, threatening to drown him every time he thought of what he’d let happen. He’d been too quick to believe...too swift to embrace his destiny.

  And in choosing that path, he’d done the unforgivable.

  The heart he thought had withered to nothing clenched hard. But within that torment, within the potent swirl of guilt and recrimination, a different emotion crept in.

  Excitement. The guilt and recrimination were ever present, but alongside it a flood of hot excitement stole over his senses, awakening that treacherous desire he thought he’d slain a long time ago.

  With every ounce of control he possessed, he tried to push it away, but like a drowning victim accepting the inevitable, he let it close in on him, submerge him deeper in its relentless maelstrom.

  Dio, he felt...alive; from her single touch, he felt more alive than he had in a very long time. More than he deserved to feel after what he’d done.

  Ava’s finger jabbed him again, but all he could think, could feel, was how much cleaner the air smelled—richer, bringing a clarity that had eluded him for a long time.

  ‘From the moment she was born, you abandoned her.’ Her rough, pain-racked whisper stabbed deeper than if she’d shouted. ‘And the day of the earthquake, you were supposed to spend time with her; instead you were on a conference call! You palmed her off on Rita—’

  He wrenched back control and sucked in a breath. ‘The minute I knew what was happening, I went in search of her. We both did. We tore apart that Bali marketplace with our bare hands.’ Until they’d bled both inside and out.

  Her hand dropped and she shook her head. ‘Do you know how it feels to know neither of us were with her when the earthquake hit?’ she whispered in anguish.

  The thought tortured him day and night. ‘Sì, I know. I’ve lived with that horror every day since. I know how very easily we could’ve lost her. But I also thank God she was found.’ Someone else had dug his daughter out of the submerged marketplace. Someone else had cared for Annabelle, taken her to the hospital and taken the time to put her photograph on the missing person’s wall. ‘We may not have found her ourselves but she was found,’ he repeated. ‘She was all right. She was alive.’ Somehow, miraculously, his daughter had survived the devastating earthquake that had killed tens of thousands.

  And, for as long as he lived, he intended to make sure his daughter never came to harm again.

  ‘She was all right,’ she repeated numbly. ‘So you just thought you’d carry on being emotionally unavailable to her again?’ Her words were hushed, but the pain behind them ripped through the silence.

  Icy calm slowly built inside him, pushing aside his pain. Cesare welcomed it. ‘I was there, Ava.’

  Her face hardened and she folded her arms around her ribcage. ‘You mean just like you’re here now? In the same room but wishing you were somewhere else?’

  His jaw tightened. Ava would never know how difficult it had been to keep from roaring his gut-ripping pain when he’d believed Annabelle was lost to him. She thought him cold. But he’d had to be, he’d had to shut off his emotions, to shut off any hint of yearning for what he couldn’t have.

  Except for Annabelle.

  His daughter was the one thing he wasn’t prepared to give up.

  It’d taken him years to finally heed the warning he’d blindly ignored. To accept that he had no business taking a wife, never mind fathering a child.

  He might be astute when it came to business but his personal relationships had always come at a price. A very steep price, he’d come to realise.

  ‘And now you’ve decided you want your daughter you think you can just click your fingers to make it happen?’

  ‘It was always going to happen. I’m sorry if you believed otherwise.’ The horrendous events of the past few weeks had painfully brought home to him that Annabelle was the only child he’d ever have. And now she was here—albeit earlier than he’d anticipated—he had no intention of letting her go.

  ‘Your arrogance is astounding, you know that?’

  ‘Isn’t it one of the things about me that turns you on?’ He had the fleeting satisfaction of watching colour surge under her skin. Anger soon replaced her blush.

  ‘Dream on. Your attraction level has dropped lower than the temperatures in the Antarctic.’

  His fiery moglie had the tendency to lash out first and think about the consequences later. Wasn’t that what had drawn him to her in the first place? Her vibrancy? Her blind, uncontrollable passion for life?

  He sidestepped that reminder.

  With a swish of her brightly coloured skirt, she stalked to the window. Cesare caught himself following the sway of her hips and reined himself in. Things were fast getting out of hand.

  Again.

  Their first meeting had been a heady, mind-blowing experience. She’d been a potion to end all sweet potions, lighting up his days, blazing through his nights like a spectacular comet. Against his every instinct, he’d let his guard down.

  Once again he’d let a woman get under his skin. Something he’d sworn to himself and to his brother, Roberto, he’d never let happen again.

  Cesare had walked out of his last meeting in Abu Dhabi the minute he’d learned Ava had summoned his plane. He’d even contemplated ordering his pilot to return her to Bali. But he’d known she would’ve found another way of achieving her goal.

  She turned, arms folded in battle stance. He suppressed a grim smile. His Ava hadn’t changed. Corner her and the fierce lioness emerged.

  Except she wasn’t his. He never should’ve taken her in the first place—although the exhilaration of being her first lover still made his blood pump faster—never should’ve placed the di Goia emerald on her finger...

  His gaze fell to her bare fingers. ‘Where is your wedding ring?’ The burning need to know erased every other thought from his head.

  Surprise widened eyes the same colour as the famous di Goia family heirloom. ‘My wedding ring?’ she echoed.

  ‘Sì. Where is it?’

  ‘In a box...somewhere. What does it matter?’ she challenged.

  Cesare had the completely irrational urge to grab her arms and shake her, demand to know why the ring wasn’t on her finger. Instead, he jammed his fists into his pockets and forced himself to stay put.

  ‘Just checking that you hadn’t donated it to the commune you were growing fond of in Bali.’

  Her arms tightened. ‘I’m glad to see you think so highly of me, Cesare. And I don’t need to pawn your jewellery off to help the causes I believe in. I’m more than well compensated for my job to fund my charitable endeavours.’

  Did she realise how gripping her arms so tightly pushed her bre
asts up, so they looked even fuller, more tempting? The faint outline of her areolas against the white of her cotton halter top and the faint freckles marching across her chest sent the pulse kicking in his groin.

  ‘Do you have a lover?’

  Dio, where the hell had that come from? He raked unsteady fingers through his hair, the sheer astonishment his question caused clearly reflected in the slack-jawed look on Ava’s face. But then was it really that astonishing? They’d spent so much time apart in the past year, he didn’t even know which circle of friends she moved in these days.

  Whose fault is that?

  Her hand fluttered to her neck, crept around to her nape and flipped her flaming hair over one shoulder. He followed the movement, his fascination with the ripple of sunlight through the long tresses causing him to tense further.

  ‘Don’t you dare go there with me, Cesare,’ she snapped.

  Her non-answer made jealousy sear his insides. He’d distanced himself from her. She should be free to take other lovers. So why did his gut clench in sharp rejection of the idea?

  ‘Why? Did the commune make you sign an oath of secrecy?’

  ‘It wasn’t a commune. And the people there are—’

  ‘Eat, pray, love advocates?’

  ‘No, believe it or not, they’re professionals who’ve given up their time to help better the lives of others, especially the victims of the earthquake.’

  ‘In the hope of finding themselves in the process?’

  Her lips firmed. ‘We can’t all find ourselves in the next multi-billion euro deal, Cesare. Why did you abandon your daughter?’

  He gripped his nape, renewed tension clawing through him. ‘I thought it was better that I stay away. If it makes you feel better, call it an error of judgement on my part and leave it be.’

  The understatement of the millennia. Marriage to Ava, Dio, to any woman, had never been on the cards for him. Not after what he’d put Roberto through. Not after Valentina...

  In some ways, while he regretted the devastation it had wrought on countless lives, the earthquake had been his wake up call. His head had been wrenched violently from the sand. And now he had the rest of his life to made amends to his daughter.

  ‘An error of judgement?’ Ava shot back immediately, like a damned terrier intent on ravaging its favourite toy. ‘Does that include our marriage?’ she demanded.

  Ignoring her, he strode to the drinks cabinet, curbing the urge to pour something stiff and bracing. He’d drunk himself into a stupor more than once this past year. He couldn’t afford to do so now. He needed to stay focused on the female who prowled restlessly behind him.

  ‘Answer me, Cesare. This...whatever’s going on between us...is it another woman?’ she persisted in that damned husky tone.

  Bitter laughter escaped before he could stop it. He poured a tall glass of water and handed it to her. ‘Why do women always think it’s another woman?’

  She gazed straight at him. ‘Because men are as predictable as the tide during a full moon.’

  ‘Would it make it easier if I said it was another woman?’

  He didn’t miss the shaft of pain that flitted through her eyes. Her lips wobbled before she pursed them. But her gaze didn’t waver from his. ‘Is it?’

  In a way he wished it had been as easy as infidelity. Because infidelity would mean he’d stop caring. Or wanting what he couldn’t have.

  ‘Turn down the Marinello gig. Return to your commune in Bali. Or take another assignment abroad. Give me the summer with Annabelle. We’ll talk when you return.’

  Her eyes flashed rebellious fire at him. ‘No. Annabelle needs me. Besides, too much has happened for me to just up and leave on an assignment. I think deep down you know that.’

  He silently conceded the point. The earthquake had changed things between Ava and him just as much as it’d altered his relationship towards his daughter. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, looking at Ava in battle mode he hadn’t witnessed for a long time, he knew in that instant he was screwed.

  He gritted his teeth. ‘The foreign minister is a close friend. You didn’t become an Italian citizen when we married. All it would take is a single phone call and I can have you thrown out of the country. Do you realise that?’ He threw out the straw-clutching Hail Mary.

  ‘Yes,’ she stated simply, not in the least bit cowed. ‘But if I leave I take Annabelle with me.’

  Against his will, his eyes strayed to the soft curve of her mouth. It would be as soft and supple as he remembered. Along with the rest of her.

  Having her close would drive him crazy.

  But the need to have his daughter close—to begin to repair the damage he’d caused outweighed all else. His internal debate lasted milliseconds.

  ‘Fine. We’ll both stay here for the summer.’

  Her mouth dropped open, then her eyes narrowed. ‘That was a little too easy.’

  ‘Don’t delude yourself, Ava. This isn’t going to be easy for either of us. I know what you want and I can assure you I am unable to give it to you. What I can do is ensure Annabelle isn’t caught in the crossfire of our...situation. You understand?’

  She sucked in a ragged breath and Cesare knew he’d got through to her. The late afternoon sun slanting through the windows danced over her fiery hair as she nodded.

  Grimly satisfied that his control was under firm guard, he headed for the door, ruthlessly suppressing the old sensations pulling at him, reminding him that his attraction to Ava had always held a fatalistic edge that had excited him.

  Doomed him. He’d let it get out of hand the same way he’d let the situation with Roberto and Valentina unravel...

  ‘So, does that mean you agree to a truce? That you won’t try anything double-crossy somewhere down the line?’

  He turned back from the door.

  Her eyes reflected a defiance that reluctantly sparked his admiration. None of his family or subordinates would dare press home their advantage this way.

  But a line needed to be drawn. ‘That very much depends on you, cara. Your innate inability to not rush in where angels fear to tread could prove your undoing.’

  Her lips tightened. ‘Are you calling me a fool?’

  ‘I’m inviting you to prove me wrong. Stay out of my way for the next six weeks and I’ll have no need to declare war on you.’

  * * *

  Ava frowned at the closed door, her mind a whirlpool of jumbled thoughts.

  She walked over to the French windows and gazed at the sparkling infinity pool. Something was wrong with the picture Cesare was presenting her with.

  Even as a newly-wed, she’d realised very quickly that business came first with Cesare. She’d lost count of the times he’d upped and left on a business trip on the strength of a single phone call.

  Now, all of a sudden, he’d taken weeks off to spend his summer here.

  She wanted to believe that living through a devastating earthquake had changed him...but it was painfully obvious that Cesare was determined to keep her at arm’s length.

  Although his attitude towards Annabelle had changed...

  Recalling his face when he’d laid their daughter down for her nap, a bittersweet emotion filled her.

  If Cesare meant to spend time with Annabelle, Ava welcomed that, although she couldn’t stop the tiniest well of jealousy from rising up.

  Pushing the doors open, she stepped onto the terrace. The palazzo baked in the late afternoon sun. Perfumed scents of lemon trees and the specially reared roses the team of gardeners took immense pride in mingled in the air. She inhaled deeply, letting the fragrance suffuse her senses. But the clarity she sought never materialised.

  The holiday in Bali had been her last-ditch attempt to reconnect with Cesare. She’d failed spectacularly right from the get-go. That fi
rst week, he’d shut himself away in the luxury villa’s study and worked until the early hours of each morning.

  On the first morning of their second week, desperate for a break from the overwhelming evidence of her failure, she’d left the villa armed with her camera. She’d been taking pictures of the beautiful local wildlife when the earthquake struck.

  Her insides clenched anew at the heart-rending three days they’d searched for Annabelle and Rita.

  She shuddered and blinked back the rush of tears. Ironically, she’d felt closer to Cesare in those bleak moments they’d spent ripping apart the marketplace where Rita had been strolling with Annabelle than she’d felt in a long time.

  Well, Cesare had been right about one thing...she was a fool.

  * * *

  The staff had unpacked and folded away her clothes in the master suite on the other side of Annabelle’s room by the time she went upstairs. It took moments to confirm Cesare’s I’ve rearranged a few things didn’t mean he’d moved back into the suite they once shared but rather the one on the other side of Annabelle’s room.

  Ava refused to acknowledge the knot in the pit of her stomach and undressed. The sheer gold-coloured muslin curtains that framed the queen-sized bed had been caught up with white velvet rope.

  Approaching the bed, she picked up her coffee-coloured kimono-style silk gown and went into the bathroom. Bypassing the sunken marble bath, she entered the shower cubicle. After a refreshing shower, she donned an ankle-length green and white flower-patterned skirt and white top and checked on Annabelle. Finding her still comfortably asleep, Ava slipped her feet into a pair of white thongs, grabbed her laptop and went downstairs.

  The aim had been to head to the salone that hugged the western side of the villa and overlooked the stunning gardens. She’d always found that room soothing. But in the hallway she slowed, lingered, unable to stem the flood of memories from washing over her.

  Her first time to the Villa di Goia had been on her honeymoon. Two weeks of bliss when they’d only come out of the bedroom to swim in the pool or for Cesare to teach her to waterski on the lake.