Behind the Castello Doors

by Chantelle Shaw

  Cesario’s apartment overlooked a piazza called the Campo de’ Fiori, which he explained meant field of flowers, where a busy market selling fruit, vegetables and flowers operated every morning. The outside of the apartment block was a beautiful historic building, but to Beth’s surprise inside the penthouse flat was modern and starkly minimalist, with white marble floors, white walls and furnishings.

  ‘Your city home is very different to the castle,’ she commented, privately thinking that the apartment seemed as sterile and unwelcoming as a clinic.

  ‘It’s not to my taste. My wife chose the décor. Raffaella disliked the castle and preferred to spend her time in Rome, but for me the flat is simply somewhere to stay when I need to be at the bank. I’ve never bothered to have it redecorated.’

  Cesario had carried Sophie up from the car, but now he gave her to Beth before ushering her into the lounge. Two men were waiting there, and after speaking to them in Italian Cesario introduced the younger man as a representative from a paternity testing clinic, while the older, white-haired man, he explained, was a doctor.

  ‘Obtaining a DNA sample is done by taking a mouth swab and is absolutely painless,’ the clinic rep assured Beth. ‘I will take a sample from Signor Piras first, and then from the child.’

  Sophie seemed quite unconcerned, and the test was performed in minutes. But Beth felt tense as the sample was taken which would prove whether or not Cesario was Sophie’s father. If he wasn’t, then she would take Mel’s baby daughter back to Hackney, to the cramped flat in the run-down tower block. She would manage, she told herself. Hopefully she’d find a better-paid job which would enable her to afford somewhere nicer for them to live. But it was unlikely she would ever see Cesario again.

  The thought hurt more than it should. Why should she care? she wondered despairingly. He was all but a stranger—a wealthy playboy whose world was so different from hers that they might as well live on different planets. She stole a glance at him and felt an ache inside as she drank in his hard, handsome features, and the cruel scar running down his cheek that gave him the faintest air of vulnerability and proved he was made of flesh and blood, not carved from granite. He was the only man to have kissed her with fierce passion and awoken her desires, to have made her long for him to possess her body and take her to the heights of sexual fulfilment.

  Her heart leapt when he turned his head and trapped her gaze, his expression speculative as he watched the streaks of colour wing along her cheekbones.

  ‘You will be contacted with the results as soon as they are available,’ the clinic rep explained after he had sealed the samples, and with a polite nod he walked out of the room.

  To Beth’s surprise, the doctor did not follow. She had assumed his role had been to witness the collection of the DNA sample, but Cesario explained otherwise.

  ‘I’ve asked Dr Bartoli to examine you, in the hope that he can diagnose why you keep fainting,’ he told her.

  ‘You make it sound as though it’s a regular occurrence,’ she muttered in an angry whisper so that the doctor could not hear her. ‘I just feel a bit wobbly sometimes. There’s nothing wrong with me and I don’t need to see a doctor.’

  ‘Why don’t you let him be the judge of that?’ The determined gleam in Cesario’s eyes warned that she would be wasting her time to argue, and she glared at him helplessly as he took Sophie from her and strolled over to the window.

  ‘So, Signorina Granger, would you please tell me the symptoms you have been suffering from?’

  Beth forced a smile for the elderly doctor. He spoke in such a kind tone that she shrugged and admitted, ‘I sometimes feel dizzy and short of breath. And I’m often tired. But Sophie still wakes for a feed during the night so I suppose it’s not surprising that I feel exhausted.’

  ‘Caring for an infant can be extremely draining, especially in the first few months,’ the doctor agreed. ‘It is important that you eat a good, balanced diet to give you energy.’

  When Beth flushed, remembering the days she had survived on toast and coffee in England, he continued, ‘I understand you are the child’s guardian, and that her mother was your best friend who died shortly after Sophie’s birth?’ He gave her a gentle look. ‘Grief takes a physical as well as mental toll. Perhaps you have lost your appetite since the death of your friend? And perhaps,’ he added intuitively, ‘you have been so busy caring for the baby that you have not had time to grieve properly.’

  ‘No.’ Beth swallowed hard. She had a sudden stark memory of Mel’s funeral, the utter wrench she’d felt as she’d said that final goodbye. Tears filled her eyes and for a moment she felt like sobbing her heart out. But of course she couldn’t—not in front of a stranger. Anyway, she had learned after her mother had died that crying wasn’t really a relief. It just gave you a headache. And how could she wallow in self-pity when Sophie needed her to be strong?

  ‘The past few months have been difficult,’ she admitted huskily.

  She was conscious that on the other side of the room Cesario was listening to her conversation. She felt his eyes on her, but she could not bring herself to meet his gaze when she felt so vulnerable.

  ‘I think from what you have told me, and also from your pallor, that you are probably suffering from an iron deficiency,’ Dr Bartoli told her. ‘I will take a blood sample to confirm it, but it will do no harm for you to start a course of iron tablets immediately.’

  Five minutes later the doctor packed the small phial containing Beth’s blood sample in his medical bag and shook her hand. ‘Arrivederci, signorina. It is important you take care of yourself. I do not underestimate how hard life can be for a single mother.’

  Cesario escorted Dr Bartoli out of the lounge. When he returned moments later he was accompanied by a woman who Beth assumed was a member of his staff at the apartment.

  ‘Beth, I’d like you to meet Luisa Moretti. Luisa is a nanny from a highly reputable agency in Rome,’ he shocked her by saying. ‘She is going to help you look after Sophie.’

  ‘I’m pleased to meet you, Miss Granger.’ The woman spoke perfect English and smiled as she extended her hand in formal greeting. Good manners dictated that Beth responded with a polite welcome, but while Luisa made a fuss of Sophie she glared at Cesario.

  To her fury he returned her angry look with a bland smile before speaking to the nanny. ‘Beth and I have an appointment, and as Sophie is due a feed and a nap we’ll leave her with you for a couple of hours.’

  ‘Sophie won’t like being fed by a stranger,’ Beth said stiffly, but to no avail.

  ‘I’m sure she’ll be quite happy with me,’ Luisa assured her. ‘I’ve worked as a nanny for twenty years, and I have a lot of experience with small babies.’

  With Cesario’s hand firmly gripping her shoulder, Beth found herself propelled out of the room. Before she could speak, he answered a call on his mobile phone, and she had no opportunity to vent her feelings until they had climbed into the limousine parked outside the apartment block.

  ‘Don’t think I don’t realise what you are doing.’ She rounded on him the second he’d depressed a button to activate the privacy glass so that the chauffeur could not hear them. ‘You believe Sophie is your daughter, and once the test proves it you’re planning to send me away from her. That’s why you’ve employed a nanny. But I won’t leave her,’ she told him fiercely. ‘Mel appointed me as Sophie’s guardian, and I’ll fight you in court if necessary for the right to be a mother to her.’

  Her emotions were raw after her conversation with the doctor had triggered painful memories of Mel, and now the tears she had tried to supress filled her eyes.

  The sight of Beth’s distress made Cesario’s stomach clench. ‘You’re wrong,’ he said tautly. ‘I’ve employed Luisa because you’ve admitted you are exhausted from lack of sleep and I can see that you need help. Dio, your devotion to her has made you ill. If Sophie is mine, I promise I will involve you in her upbringing.’

  What did he mean by that? Beth wonde
red anxiously. Would Cesario allow her to live at the Castello del Falco? Or would her involvement in Sophie’s life be confined to occasional visits? Gnawing on her lower lip, she stared out of the car window at the traffic-congested streets and the unfamiliar Rome skyline. ‘Where are we going, anyway?’

  ‘Shopping—we need to find you a dress to wear tonight.’

  She shook her head. ‘We do not. The clothes I’m wearing might not be haute couture, but they’re adequate. I can’t afford to buy a dress that I’ll probably never have the opportunity to wear again, and I’m certainly not going to allow you to buy me anything.’

  ‘Mio Dio! You would try the patience of a saint—and that is something I have never professed to be,’ Cesario growled.

  Something in his tone made Beth’s heart thud. When she darted him a glance and saw the feral gleam in his eyes she should have guessed his intention. Certainly she should have fought him when his arm snaked around her waist and he hauled her up against him. But the memory of his kiss was branded on her soul, and when he claimed her mouth with savage possession she lost the battle before it had even begun. For a few seconds she fought him, determined to resist his mastery, but he took without mercy, parting her lips with determined intent to explore her inner sweetness with his tongue.

  Driven by a need she did not fully understand, Beth responded to him with an urgency that made him groan. Sensing her surrender, Cesario gentled the kiss so that it became deeply sensual, with an inherent tenderness that caused her tears that had been hovering perilously close since they had climbed into the car to overspill.

  ‘Don’t,’ he bade her roughly, brushing the trails of moisture from her cheeks with his thumb pads. ‘I know how much you love Sophie, and whatever the outcome of the test I swear you will never be parted from her.’

  ‘If the test proves that you are her father you said you will want her to grow up in Sardinia with you. But my home is in England. How can we both be parents to her when we live in different countries?’

  It would be so much easier if Sophie wasn’t Cesario’s child, Beth thought wearily. But she knew she was being selfish. Undoubtedly it would be better for Sophie if she were the daughter of a billionaire.

  ‘We’ll work something out,’ Cesario reassured her.

  In truth he did not know what, but Beth’s fear that she might be separated from the child she patently adored tugged on his heart. Guilt surged through him as he remembered Raffaella’s desperation to win custody of Nicolo—and his determination to keep his son. There had been no winners in their bitter battle, he thought grimly.

  He stared at Beth’s tense face and drew her close so that her head rested on his shoulder. ‘I give you my word that you will always have a place in Sophie’s life.’

  Like every room in the penthouse, the nursery’s décor was stark white. It was probably very stylish, but in Beth’s opinion it lacked the cosy charm of the nursery at the Castello del Falco. Sophie, however, seemed oblivious to her surroundings, and had fallen asleep soon after her evening feed.

  Feeling the familiar surge of love for the baby girl, Beth leant over the cot and brushed a tender kiss on Sophie’s petal-soft cheek.

  ‘She took her whole bottle and settled without a murmur,’ Luisa Moretti told her in a hushed voice. ‘I’ll take good care of her while you are out, so please don’t worry about her.’ The nanny smiled. ‘What a beautiful dress, Miss Granger.’

  ‘Please call me Beth.’ Luisa was so friendly that Beth had quickly warmed to her, and if she was honest it was a relief to share a little of the responsibility of caring for Sophie with a highly experienced nanny.

  She glanced at her reflection in the mirror and gave a rueful laugh. ‘It’s an amazing dress, isn’t it? But I’ve never worn red in my life and I’m not sure I can carry it off.’

  She had voiced her doubts earlier in the day to the stylist Cesario had arranged to accompany her on a shopping trip on the Via dei Condotti—reputed to be one of the richest streets in Rome—where all the top designer boutiques could be found. The stylist had persuaded her to try on dozens of outfits but, horrified by the price tags, Beth had refused to buy anything with the credit card Cesario had given her and had only reluctantly agreed to the red dress because she had been impatient to get back to Sophie.

  ‘With your slim figure, the dress looks stunning on you,’ the stylist had insisted.

  A trip to the hair and beauty salon had followed, and to her surprise Beth had enjoyed the novel experience of being pampered.

  ‘I can’t believe I look so glamorous,’ she told Luisa, as she studied her glossy hair with its new wispy layers that framed her face. The stylist had suggested she wear slightly more make-up for the evening, and had emphasised her eyes with a smoky shadow and brushed a light red gloss over her lips. Silver stiletto sandals and purse completed the outfit, and with a last glance in the mirror she went to find Cesario.

  He was waiting for her in the lounge: tall, dark and devastatingly sexy in a black dinner suit and white silk shirt. Beth paused in the doorway and her heart-rate accelerated when he looked over at her and visibly tensed. His eyes narrowed, but as he walked towards her she was conscious of the feral gleam beneath his heavy lids.

  ‘Bellissima! You take my breath away,’ he said with a savage intensity that sent a tremor through her.

  The simmering sexual tension between them was almost tangible.

  Beth drew a shaky breath. ‘It’s the dress,’ she murmured.

  He gave a rough laugh. ‘No, cara, it’s you. I would find you even more beautiful without the dress.’ His eyes gleamed wickedly. ‘But if you want me to prove it …’

  Heat scorched her cheeks as she imagined him easing the narrow shoulder straps over her arms and then sliding the silk bodice down to reveal her naked breasts.

  ‘Didn’t you say we need to leave for the theatre at seven?’ she said hurriedly.

  ‘Before we leave there is one addition I must make to your outfit.’

  From his jacket pocket he withdrew a slim velvet case, and opened it to reveal a single strand of glittering stones.

  ‘I knew when I saw it in the jeweller’s window that it would be perfect for you. It’s not ostentatious or fussy—just a beautifully uncluttered design which allows the stones to shine with simple purity.’

  Just as Beth’s understated beauty shone from her, Cesario brooded, feeling a sharp tug of desire in his groin as he pushed her silky hair over one slender shoulder so that he could fasten the necklace around her throat.

  ‘It’s lovely.’ Beth glanced in the mirror and admired the way the stones sparkled as they caught the light. ‘They could almost be real diamonds.’

  Cesario looked amused. ‘They are real. What did you think—that they are glass chips?’

  She gave him a horrified look. ‘Real …! It must have cost a fortune. I can’t possibly accept it.’

  He shrugged. ‘Everyone dresses up for first-night performances at the opera house, and I’m sure you don’t want to look out of place.’

  Cesario could not rationalise to himself let alone to Beth why he had bought the necklace for her. There had been such sadness in her voice when she had spoken about the death of her friend Mel, and he guessed that her life in the children’s home had not been happy. He enjoyed making her smile, but now she knew the diamonds were real the look of pleasure in her eyes had been replaced with wariness.

  ‘Enjoy wearing the necklace tonight, cara, but do not worry that it means anything,’ he advised coolly. ‘It is expected that you will wear jewellery, and as you do not have any of your own I have provided you with some. That’s all.’

  He watched the play of emotions in her eyes: relief followed by a faint disappointment that she quickly hid beneath the sweep of her lashes.

  ‘When you look at me like that the only place I want to take you is my bed,’ he rasped.

  ‘You shouldn’t say things like that.’ Beth began in an outraged tone, but the words died on he
r lips as he slid his hand beneath her chin and captured her mouth in a searing kiss that left her speechless.

  ‘Why not, when it’s the truth?’ he taunted her softly.

  But instead of kissing her again, as Beth secretly longed for him to do, he opened the door and ushered her into the hall.

  ‘We’d better leave now, before my will-power is tested any further, mia bella.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  BETH was spellbound by the plush red velvet and opulent gold décor of Teatro dell’Opera. The auditorium was horseshoe shaped, with tiers of seating boxes rising up towards a magnificent frescoed dome, and suspended from the centre of the dome was a huge chandelier of breathtaking beauty.

  With her eyes focused on the ceiling, she stumbled in her high heels and felt Cesario grip her arm to steady her.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he murmured in her ear.

  ‘Overawed,’ she admitted. ‘I’ve never been to a theatre before. This is amazing.’ She glanced around at the crowd filing in to take their seats and gave him a rueful look. ‘I understand now why you insisted that I should dress up. The only other people I’ve seen wearing so much bling are the drug dealers who trade on the estate where I live.’

  He muttered something beneath his breath and slid his arm around her waist. ‘Why do you live there?’

  ‘Because it’s the only place where I can afford the rent.’

  ‘I don’t want you to go back there,’ Cesario said harshly. ‘Even if Sophie is not my child I’ll help you find somewhere safer to bring her up.’

  Beth could not bear the idea of him viewing her and Sophie as a charity case. ‘If it turns out that she is not your responsibility why would you care what happens to her?’