Marriage Made of Secrets

by Maya Blake

  Cesare gave a husky laugh. ‘Far from it, bella,’ he taunted, even as he pressed himself closer. ‘But you want a divorce, remember? So, technically, my hard-ons no longer belong to you. Think about that the next time you decide to test the fires so brazenly, tesoro mio.’

  With supreme effort, she snatched herself from his arms. She stumbled a few steps before stopping to drag air into her lungs. When she was certain she could stand without collapsing, she tugged the folds of the shirt together. Her fingers shook too hard to button it, so she just held it with one hand.

  When she risked a glance at Cesare, he’d wrapped a large towel around his waist and now sat on the edge of a sun lounger, his eyes tracking his daughter as she exhibited her newly learned crawl. His fists were bunched tight on his thighs and his breathing was shallow, as if he’d run a marathon.

  Without a word, she turned and went inside as fast as her legs could carry her. The bikini ripped as she tugged it off. Staring at the garment in her shaking hands, she felt a huge lump wedge in her throat.

  She’d pushed them both to the limit. And what had that proved? They were still as hot as hell for each other...and? And nothing.

  Hot sex could never sustain a marriage that had been doomed from the beginning. Deep down, she knew that.

  Ava sank onto the side of the bed and finally admitted to herself the reason why she’d felt the need to test his resolve.

  Her marriage was well and truly dead. It was time to accept it.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ROME IN JULY was a seething, vibrant mass of sensible locals who sought shade and tourists who defiantly basked in the rapidly soaring temperatures. Ensconced in the limo heading towards the restaurant where they were meeting Cesare’s parents, Ava was grateful for the air-conditioner. What she wasn’t safe from were the thoughts reverberating in her head.

  This is as far as you’re ever going to get.

  She tried to push the haunting words away. They pounded harder, bringing with them a dreadful sinking in her stomach. When her phone buzzed, she pounced on it, only to frown as she saw the text sender.

  ‘It’s Agata Marinello again. She’s whining about your continued silence. Why don’t you just tell her you won’t be attending the wedding and be done with it so I can have a bit of peace? Or am I so far in the dog house you can’t even be bothered to find the key and let me out?’

  Cesare looked up from the electronic tablet he’d been working on since they’d transferred from helicopter to car.

  ‘Why would you be in the dog house?’ His voice was coolly neutral.

  Her fingers tightened around her phone. ‘Really, are we going to play this game?’

  ‘No, there will be no more games, cara. I think we’ve reached an understanding on where we both stand. Finally.’ His cool demeanour was nothing like the held-together-by-a-thread aroused male he’d been at the pool.

  He’d picked her up from her meeting dressed in a custom-made suit, polished shoes, sunglasses in place, looking intoxicatingly magnificent, as always.

  After seeing him in casual clothes every day for almost two weeks, the sight of him dressed for business, his dynamic persona in place, only made her agitation worse.

  The short drive down to the helipad and the flight into Rome been accomplished in near silence, save for Annabelle’s chatter.

  ‘You intend to freeze me out for the foreseeable future? That’s fine. But can you find half a minute and text Agata and tell her you’re not attending her precious son’s wedding? Because her texts are seriously driving me insane. And I won’t be accountable for my actions if she keeps it up,’ she warned.

  He shot her a hooded, speculative look before he nodded. ‘I’ll get in touch with her before the close of play today.’

  ‘Thank you. You can go back to ignoring me now.’

  After checking Annabelle still dozed in her car seat, she stared out of the window as the car edged around the Trevi Fountain and headed west towards Campo de Fiori.

  His tablet pinged as he shut it off. She knew the moment he turned to stare at her, the weight of his gaze so heavy, anxiety ratcheted several notches higher.

  ‘Ava—’

  ‘I’m sorry, okay?’

  He stiffened, his fingers tightening around the stylus he’d been working with.

  Pain settled in her chest as she recalled how those hands had felt on her, once upon a time. How spell-bindingly erotic they could be.

  A car horn blasted, making him turn momentarily to glance out of the window. Sunlight glinted off his black mane, casting it a glossy blue-black. His profile, stunning and powerful, hit her in the solar plexus, causing her breath to lodge in her lungs. She didn’t know why she was surprised by her reaction.

  Cesare, even with the slightly crooked nose sustained during a boxing match in his youth, was as close to physical perfection as any man could get. The urge to touch him made her fists clench until her nails bit into her palms. Sitting this close to him and stopping herself from touching was pure torture.

  For a second, she regretted not insisting on staying in Lake Como. She glanced at him again and considered returning to the villa.

  Wuss.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she forced out again. ‘I know I get rash at times. The pool incident...I don’t know what I was thinking.’

  His gaze flicked to Annabelle, and then back to her once he’d assured himself she still napped. ‘I do, and I’m sorry too,’ he said with a sigh. ‘Sex—or the promise of it—has become our fall-back solution to what’s happening between us. I used it to teach you a lesson the day you returned. You returned the favour yesterday and I deserved it. We’ve been pushing each other relentlessly. One of us was bound to reach boiling point eventually.’

  ‘And of course it had to be me.’

  ‘No. I haven’t been fair to you, Ava. The earthquake shook all of us out of our complacency. And losing Roberto...’ His jaw clenched.

  Uncurling her hand, she placed it over his and felt momentary warmth flow between them. ‘When will we find out what happened to Roberto?’

  His eyes darkened. ‘Soon...’ He stopped when his phone rang but he ignored it and pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘We’re almost at the restaurant. After that, I have meetings. We’ll talk some more tonight. Okay?’

  Her heart climbed into her throat but she forced a nod. ‘Okay.’

  With a long deep breath, he pulled out his phone. ‘Ciao.’ His smooth, husky voice echoed in the air-conditioned car.

  She tensed when a female voice returned the greeting. The rapid flow of Italian was too much for her to follow, but her tension escalated as he spoke in low, intimate tones.

  Ava’s fists tightened further when he settled back and made himself more comfortable. The movement brought him closer, his powerful thigh brushing hers as he widened his legs. She was trying to shift away from the torturous contact when he turned and held out the phone.

  ‘Celine wishes to speak to you.’

  She drew in a quick breath. ‘Why?’

  He shrugged. ‘We never got round to making that phone call. I tried to apologise on your behalf but she wants to make sure there are no bad feelings.’

  She snatched the phone from him and placed her palm over the speaker. ‘How dare you apologise on my behalf? I’m not some child whose behaviour has to be excused.’

  He regarded her coolly. ‘Well, this is your chance. You can hang up or you can speak to her. Your choice.’

  Futile irritation welled up inside her. ‘God, I really hate you sometimes.’

  He merely smiled.

  She cleared her throat and removed her hand. ‘Celine, hello.’

  ‘Ciao, Ava,’ she answered. Her tone was warm, totally devoid of censure, which made Ava feel worse.

  ‘Look, I’m sorr
y about the other night...’ As she made her apologies, it occurred to her that she’d made a lot of them in the last hour.

  ‘...being married to a man like Cesare would make any woman guard her place in his heart. He’s very special.’

  The arrogant upward curve of his mouth told her Cesare had heard Celine’s words.

  ‘He’s also stubborn and extremely infuriating,’ Ava muttered.

  Celine laughed. ‘You won’t hear any arguments from me. But his heart is in the right place. Please remember that.’

  The vehemence in Celine’s tone made Ava frown. She watched Cesare put his tablet away and couldn’t look away from the elegant hand he rested on his thighs. The memory of those hands on her skin hit her sideways. Her fingers clenched around the phone; Celine’s words were lost in a jumble as heat surged through her.

  She glanced up to find Cesare’s eyes on her. Unable to pull her gaze away, she pressed her lips together to stop them tingling. After a few seconds his eyes flicked to the phone, his brow raised.

  Celine was calling her name. Embarrassed, she apologized—again—then forced herself to conduct a somewhat coherent conversation. Minutes later, she gratefully disconnected the call.

  Cesare laughed under his breath.

  ‘Smugness is an unattractive trait,’ she snapped, her voice disgustingly husky from the feelings rampaging through her.

  His smile only widened. ‘But it does my heart good to watch you eat humble pie,’ he returned.

  ‘Well, before I dig in, you should know I’ve accepted an invitation for Celine’s birthday tonight.’ She named the club. ‘She’s texting me the details shortly.’

  His smile disappeared. Cesare hated nightclubs.

  With a satisfied smile of her own, she held out his phone. ‘Not so smug now, huh, caro?’

  * * *

  Cesare let himself into his apartment just before seven that evening and was immediately struck by the silence. It was different from this afternoon, when the sound of Annabelle’s laughter coupled with Ava’s huskier laugh had bounced off the walls. Realising how badly he missed it, he dropped his briefcase and loosened his tie.

  Nothing was going according to plan. The business he’d thought he would have concluded by mid-afternoon today had stretched well into the evening. He knew his lack of concentration had been mostly to blame. He hadn’t missed the surreptitious glances his board executives had exchanged when they’d thought he wasn’t aware.

  How could they know he was dreading the next few hours? This was the first time he’d be alone—truly alone—with Ava. And he didn’t trust himself one iota.

  Stalking to the cabinet, he plucked a glass from the shelf and contemplated the extensive array of drinks. He poured a shot of cognac, knocked it back and slammed the glass down.

  Get a grip!

  He eyed his briefcase. Part of the answer to his problems lay in there. All he had to do was sign the divorce papers his lawyers had drawn up and Ava would be out of his life.

  He stepped forward and stopped when something soft gave way underfoot. Bending down, he picked up Annabelle’s teddy. With a pang, he clutched the toy and clenched his gut against the pain shooting through him.

  He loved his child beyond imagining, and yet he’d never been able to celebrate that love without a heavy dose of guilt. How could he when his actions had deprived Roberto of the same joy of being a father?

  Cesare placed the teddy on the table. A sound behind him made him turn.

  Ava stood at the entrance to the hallway, dressed in a long satin robe, her freshly washed and shining hair falling over one shoulder in an innocently seductive gesture that made his head swim. His chest tightened and he forced himself to remain still, to fight the urge to drag her close, imprison that trim waist and devour her lips with his.

  ‘I thought I heard someone in here.’ She moved into the room. As hard as he fought, he couldn’t stop his gaze straying to the sensual sway of her hips.

  His whole body tautened so tight he was sure he’d snap in two.

  Santa cielo! A year without sex was messing with his mind. Only monks took perpetual vows of celibacy. And his body was reminding him in the most elemental, primitive way possible that he was no monk.

  He turned away to hide his growing hard-on.

  ‘I just got in. Did my parents get away with Annabelle okay?’

  Her robe whispered as she came closer. He closed his eyes. Before long her scent would reach him. Mingled dread and fierce anticipation scythed through him.

  ‘Yes.’ He heard the smile in her voice. ‘I’m not sure which one of them was more excited. Their plans for tomorrow exhausted me and all I did was listen to them.’

  ‘She left her teddy.’ He needed to fill the silence or give in to the urge to touch her.

  ‘Hmm, I know. I called Carmela and offered to take it over but she said no. I think I handed her the perfect excuse to take Annabelle shopping for another one.’

  Unable to resist any longer, he turned. Her smile was breathtaking. Dio mio, everything about her was breathtaking. Shoving one hand through his hair, he pulled his tie away completely with the other.

  ‘What time is Celine’s thing?’ Getting out of here might help with this unrelenting obsession to keep checking out his future ex-wife.

  ‘Eight o’clock for drinks and dinner, then on to the club.’

  He grimaced. The last thing he wanted was to socialise to the beat of thumping music. But anywhere else was preferable to being cooped up in this apartment, alone with Ava and his shockingly impure thoughts.

  ‘Give me twenty minutes to shower and change.’

  Her fingers toyed with the knot in her robe belt. He directed his gaze elsewhere.

  ‘I’d hoped you’d return earlier. You said we needed to talk?’ she ventured.

  ‘I’m sorry, I was delayed. Unavoid—’ He stopped when her smile dimmed. ‘We don’t have to stay long at Celine’s party. We’ll talk when we get back, sì?’

  Her lips firmed. ‘We’d better. The suspense is killing me.’

  Twenty minutes later, he was seriously contemplating calling off the evening. But he knew he’d never hear the end of it if he disappointed Celine.

  Grimly, he slid silver cufflinks into his black silk shirt, shrugged on his dinner jacket and emerged from his room just as Ava shut the door to the guest room.

  His couldn’t describe the miasma of emotions that fizzed through him.

  The emerald-green thigh-length sheath she wore had no back. He knew this because her skin was exhibited in soft, gleaming peach-perfect invitation.

  ‘Are you missing something?’ His voice sounded strained even to his own ears.

  She performed a perfect pirouette and then stared wide-eyed at him. The tingle of satisfaction he felt that she still found him attractive disappeared underneath the seething idea of other men seeing her in that piece of nothing.

  She made a show of touching her fingers to the diamond studs in her lobes and the stylish pendant around her throat before checking the silver open-toed heels on her feet.

  ‘No, I think I’m all set.’ Her hair gleamed in the light as she raised her gaze to his.

  ‘Are you sure, because you look stunning, but I think you’re missing several yards of material at the back of your dress.’

  Despite the surge of blood reddening her cheeks, she raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh, and suddenly you care how I look, Cesare?’

  His gut tightened at the blow. ‘Sì, I care. We aren’t divorced...yet. I don’t want other men to get ideas about you.’

  ‘Just be a gentleman and stick to compliments. I spent a small fortune on my dress.’

  ‘Ava, you look breathtaking. That is always a given. But the caveman in me would love to see you in something...else.’ A shroud-like some
thing that wouldn’t make any red-blooded male wonder if her skin felt as soft and velvety as it looked.

  She planted a hand on her hip, a pulse-heating smile playing on her glossy lips. ‘What exactly is wrong with it?’ she challenged, her eyes sparking fire at him.

  His frustration escalated. ‘Aside from the fact that it barely covers your backside and is missing a back, you mean?’ It was just too damn shimmery.

  ‘But I look hot?’ she pressed with a smile that now dripped pure mischief.

  ‘You look hot. You look like a pure, sinfully tempting fantasy. Is that gentlemanly enough for you?’ The material caressed her thighs, brought attention to legs that seemed to go on for ever. And she’d done something to her toes. ‘What’s that?’ he rasped, barely able to take a full breath.

  She followed his gaze. ‘It’s a toe ring,’ she replied. ‘Cesare, we have twenty-five minutes to get there. Will you be able to handle me looking like this or are we going to be late because you’ve suddenly developed a dislike for any other man seeing me in a short dress?’

  He swallowed, tried to speak and ended up just shaking his head as her gaze wandered over him.

  ‘Oh, and for the record, you look hot too. I could tell you to button your shirt all the way up so no woman can see your manly, mouth-watering chest, but see, I’m a grown-up, so I’ll just suck it up. Now, shall we go?’ Her eyes had grown dark when she raised her gaze to his.

  Their expression and the knowledge that she felt an iota of the feelings rampaging through him made him feel marginally better.

  ‘Celine will be made aware in no uncertain terms that she owes me big for this.’ He strolled over to her and held out his arm.

  ‘Behave yourself, Cesare.’ At his snarled, pithy response, she laughed. ‘This is going to be a long, trying evening, isn’t it?’

  He took in the thrust of her chin, the hectic race of the pulse in her throat and an all too familiar spike of lust raced to his groin. ‘Sì, it is.’

  Cesare knew he was being ridiculous. Jealousy had no place in his feelings because he knew by rights he had no hold on her. Besides, he would bet his sizable fortune that most of the women at the club tonight would be similarly dressed.