Redemption Of The Untamed Italian (Mills & Boon Modern) Read online

  ‘Yes, I was desperate for you to buy into the hedge fund. And I’m so glad you did. I couldn’t bear to see Laurence fail and hopefully, if the market goes well, he’ll be able to help with Almer Hall soon, to take some of the pressure off me.’ Her smile reached deep inside him and yanked at his heart. ‘But I never would have agreed to sleep with you again, no matter the price, if it wasn’t what I really wanted.’

  There was danger in her promise, danger because it suggested she was offering something he had intentionally avoided all his life. Acceptance. Affection.

  He was glad their time together was almost over, glad their clean break was at hand. Glad he could go back to the way things had been before this.

  Except, he wasn’t.

  He thought of that future, he thought of not seeing her again, and something like a blade pressed against his chest, making breathing something of which he was painfully aware.

  He turned his face away from her for a moment, a frown etched across his features as he studied the view from the window. There wasn’t much to see—just the dark ocean with a single, shimmering triangle of moonlight right at its centre.

  ‘So if I cancelled my investment now you wouldn’t mind?’

  He felt the movement of the bed as she shifted a little. ‘Of course I would. But not because I’ve been here for a fortnight, and this relationship was predicated on that, and you’d be breaking your word or whatever. I’d mind because you made a promise to Laurence and he’s counting on you. I’d mind because it would be a terrible thing to do.’

  He turned back to face her and spoke softly, wanting to erase the little line of worry that had formed around her eyes. ‘Relax. I have no intention of doing any such thing. But you are naive if you don’t see how connected my investment is with your decision to become my mistress.’

  ‘I...didn’t say they weren’t connected.’

  ‘I propositioned you because I desired you, and because I knew that desire to be mutual. But you agreed because you couldn’t not.’ Her face paled beneath his scrutiny. ‘I told you, I’m good at this. I manoeuvre all the pieces until I get what I want. It’s not luck. It’s not chance. It’s how I work.’

  It was dark in the room, only the brief glint of moonlight to provide any illumination, but he saw the hint of tears on her lashes. ‘You’re wrong,’ she whispered. ‘That’s not why I’m here.’

  Rejection fired through him, but he softened his tone, speaking calmly, gently, with only the slightest undercurrent of iron. ‘Yes, it is. And that’s okay. We all have our price—at least yours was charged in the service of something noble.’

  His words were still ringing in his own ears in the morning; he hated to think of how she must feel, of how she was remembering what he’d said. They hadn’t spoken again since. She’d turned her back on him and silence had fallen, so it had been impossible to push those words from his mind, impossible to forget how he’d felt and why he’d said that.

  But as night gave way to dawn, and she continued to sleep beside him, he pushed carefully out of bed. It was their last day together, their last night, and the thought gave him no pleasure.

  He wasn’t ready to let her go.

  It was the one thing he was certain of. The night before, he’d told himself it would be a relief to end this, but that had been a lie.

  She was a distraction he didn’t want, but her ability to commandeer his thoughts wouldn’t disappear when she did.

  He had set out to get her out of his head once and for all, but he hadn’t achieved that—yet.

  He needed more time. More nights and days to let his fascination burn out. He needed to forget her and move on, and then he could go back to being his old self.

  Cesare strode from his room, barefoot and naked, pausing to grab a towel from behind the door as he went, which he slung low on his hips as he made his way to his office.

  There, he set to work, moving the pieces into position, finding the information he needed, doing everything he could to ensure he would, as before, get the same answer from Jemima that he needed.

  Bending people to his will was Cesare’s gift, and he intended to utilise it again this morning. The machinations were beneath him, of that he had little doubt, but—more than ever before—the ends would justify the means. He was sure of it.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  SHE SLEPT LATE, which was little wonder, given how long she’d stared at the wall of his bedroom the night before, her mind sagging under the weight of his words, his statement filling her with a sense of disbelief she couldn’t shake.

  We all have our price—at least yours was charged in the service of something noble.

  It wasn’t true.

  Anxiety for Laurence had brought her to Cesare, but nothing that had happened between them was because of her cousin, or his financial predicament. She wasn’t mercenary and her body sure as hell wasn’t for sale. This had been about temptation, lust nnd desire.

  Her stomach squeezed and her heart did the same, twisting inside her, so she made a little gasping noise and pushed back the duvet, looking around for her phone. It was charging, across the room. She strode towards it and checked the time—after ten. She took her time going downstairs, showering and dressing in a pair of white linen shorts and a silk halter-neck top that she’d modelled in Paris earlier in the summer.

  Barefoot, she made her way through the house, unintentionally quiet, as though she didn’t want to see Cesare. As though she wouldn’t know what to say to him when she did.

  It was another stunning day. Bright blue sky, turquoise water, sand that she knew from experience would be soft and spongy beneath her feet. She pressed a button on the coffee machine, her eyes fixed to the view, her body awash with feelings she couldn’t process.

  This would be her last day with Cesare. She’d prepared for that. From the beginning, she’d known this would end, and she’d made her peace with it. But even after the night before, after what he’d boiled their relationship down to, the accusation that she was so mercenary, she felt an agonising ache when she thought of leaving him.

  The coffee machine was silent but efficient. She reached for the cup and pulled it from the machine, lifting the fragranced drink to her nose first, breathing in the comforting aroma before taking a sip, her eyes fluttering shut.

  But the second she closed them she saw Cesare. All facets of him, every side that she’d seen over the past two weeks and on their first night together, and her tummy rolled with uncertainty. Doubts and disbelief crowded through her.

  This couldn’t really be the end, could it?

  She tried to imagine her life back in London. Going away on assignment, taking part in that world which now seemed even more superficial than usual, travelling home to Almer Hall and feeling her parents’ loneliness, their grief, and knowing that she carried something within her that would eclipse it.

  Life without Cesare.

  She couldn’t think that thought through any further. Cesare entered the kitchen at that moment, his footsteps breaking through Jemima’s concentration, and she turned her head to the side, not quite able to meet his eyes.

  ‘Morning.’

  His silence had her moving her body to look at him properly, and there was an expression on his face she didn’t recognise. He was serious, his features held in a mask of indifference, but his eyes—eyes that she could now read like a book—spoke of something bigger. Something important.

  ‘You’re awake.’

  She nodded, even though it was more a statement than a question.

  ‘Good. We need to talk.’

  She curved her hands around her coffee cup to stop them from shaking and waited, her bottom propped against the kitchen bench. He came to stand opposite her, his frame deceptively relaxed.

  ‘I don’t want this to be our last day together.’

  She wasn’t sure she’d hea
rd him properly.

  ‘What?’

  She didn’t trust herself to say more than that. Just a small noise, urging him to continue.

  He crossed his arms over his chest. ‘I don’t know how long this will last. I don’t have the answers I thought I did. You’ve surprised me. But I know I don’t want this to end.’

  Relief began to shift inside her. ‘I don’t, either.’

  ‘I know.’

  His arrogance would have been galling if it wasn’t so completely his trademark.

  A smile lifted her lips.

  ‘I can’t take any more time off work. For this to work, we’d need to be based in Rome. If you wished to take on assignments, you could use my jet for as long as we continue this arrangement.’

  Alarm bells began to tremor, just a little. She lifted her eyes to his, confusion marching across her face. ‘What arrangement?’

  ‘You being my mistress.’

  And just like that, as if a pin had been slipped into a balloon, her happiness burst. She stared at him, non-comprehending. ‘Your mistress?’ she croaked after a moment.

  He nodded, reaching for her, and she was so shocked that she didn’t resist at first. She let him draw her gently towards him, her coffee between them, his body so familiar to her, so perfectly matched; he was everything she wanted.

  ‘It would be more of this, more of what we’ve shared these last two weeks, until we’re ready to move on.’

  It was as though she were being pushed towards a cliff in a little buggy over which she had no control. His words were so calm, so ordered, and he spoke with the total authority of a man who had made a plan and expected it to be adhered to. But the last part of his calmly delivered directive rocked her to the core of her being.

  Ready to move on.

  Her insides began to fill with heat, as though lava were being poured through her body, and she shook her head urgently, pulling away from him, sipping her coffee then placing the cup down so she could dig her hands into the pockets of her shorts.

  ‘We can put a time limit on it again, if that helps,’ he murmured, standing exactly where he was, watching her with eyes that saw too much. ‘A month?’

  Her eyes swept shut as disbelief spun through her. ‘A month,’ she repeated, nodding a little, even though she had no intention of going along with it. Disbelief was running rampant through her.

  A month.

  It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. Her lungs seemed to be squeezing shut; she couldn’t get enough air. She bit down on her lip and tried to stay focussed; she tried not to let herself give in to the tears that were threatening to fill her eyes.

  ‘I can help you with Almer Hall.’

  Her eyes burst open and tore to him. He was watching her, completely still, his body unmoving.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I want to help you,’ he said, but it was as though the words were being torn from him against his will.

  ‘Help me how?’

  ‘There are four mortgages against the title.’ Now he moved, walking towards her, his eyes holding the slightest recrimination. ‘You’ve been chipping away at them, but not in a way that will make any real dent.’

  A sense of defeat made her defensive. ‘How do you even know that? It’s private.’

  ‘I have ties at your bank.’

  ‘Jesus.’ She shook her head in disbelief. ‘And they, what—handed over confidential financial information?’

  ‘This information is not confidential—just difficult to obtain unless you know what you’re doing. And I do know what I’m doing, Jemima. I want to help you with Almer Hall.’

  And then, comprehension dawned. A wave of nausea crested inside her as she tumbled over that cliff, the little buggy she was in not equal to the pressure being exerted on it any longer.

  Grateful for the wall at her back, she used it for support, staring at him for several long seconds. Had she misunderstood?

  We all have our price—at least yours was charged in the service of something noble.

  That was what he truly thought of her. She blinked, and for a second she felt a rush of hatred for him. Hatred that was all the more intense for the fact she didn’t hate him at all and her heart knew that. Her heart knew why this hurt her so badly, why after everything she’d been through, why a woman who had—as he’d said—become adept at pushing people away, should feel his insult at the very centre of her being.

  ‘You’re saying you’ll help me. But only if I accept this...proposition?’

  His eyes flared with something she didn’t comprehend.

  ‘I’m offering to give you everything you could ever want,’ he said simply, neatly avoiding having to answer the accusation she’d laid at his feet.

  But he was so wrong! Wrong in every way.

  ‘No.’ A whisper. ‘You only think you are.’

  His finger pressed to her chin, lifting her face to his, his eyes probing hers. His question was raw, though, his words dragged from deep within him. ‘Are you saying you want this to be the end? That you would wish to stick to the original terms of our agreement?’

  She could fight the tears no longer. They filled her eyes, and she shook her head, knowing her voice would tremble if she tried to speak.

  Relief crossed his features, followed closely by triumph. ‘And nor do I. This is the solution.’ He took her silence for tacit approval. ‘Come to Rome with me for one month. You will have everything provided, but most of all I will clear Almer Hall of all debts. One month as my mistress and you can spend the rest of your life knowing your family’s home is safe, that your parents can live without worry.’

  A sob filled her lungs. She swallowed it away. ‘Just like you said?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Everyone has their price?’

  For the smallest sliver of time, she saw remorse glimmer in the depths of his eyes, but then it was gone, arrogance replacing it. ‘It was not intended as an insult.’

  She made a snorting noise then, shaking her head. ‘You don’t think?’

  ‘I wasn’t speaking specifically about you—this could apply to anyone.’

  ‘I don’t believe that.’

  ‘Believe it or not, it’s the way the world works. I’m not saying Almer Hall is the only reason you’ll agree to this, but I know that it makes it easier for you to say yes to what I’m offering.’

  ‘You’re wrong,’ she insisted. ‘The terms you’ve laid out make it harder. If you’d asked me to stay with you longer purely because you don’t want me to go, because you can’t bear to wake up tomorrow without me in your bed and in your life, then I would have said yes a thousand times over. But to agree to be your mistress on the same mercenary terms as before—after everything we’ve shared—how can you think me capable of that?’

  His eyes shifted with something dark.

  ‘Why do you want me to stay?’ she demanded, unable to believe the worst of him, even with all the evidence at her feet.

  A muscle jerked in his jaw, as though he were clenching his teeth.

  ‘Tell me.’

  He was silent.

  ‘Say it. I need to understand what’s brought you to this point. I need to know what you feel.’

  ‘What I feel?’ Finally he spoke, the words bursting from him, showing his frustration and impatience. ‘I don’t know. I’ve never done this before. I presumed two weeks with you would be enough, and it hasn’t been. I know I’ll get over this—that I’ll get over you—but I need more time. I need more of you.’

  ‘Wow.’ She swept her eyes shut for a second. ‘I’ve never heard myself talked about as though I were a narcotic before.’

  He grimaced. ‘I only meant—’

  ‘That you’re not over me. That you want me in your life until it suits you for me to leave, and not a moment beyond that. And
what about me, Cesare?’

  ‘I told you, you’d have everything you could ever want.’

  ‘What if all I want is you?’

  He looked confused, as though such an idea had never occurred to him.

  ‘You’d have me. Every night, just like you have this last couple of weeks.’

  ‘No.’ She shook her head with urgency. ‘That’s not what I mean.’

  ‘Well, what do you mean? What do you want? I will give you anything if you’ll agree to this.’

  His words pulled at something inside her, something that forced her to dig deep and really see what she’d perhaps known all along. His offer should have been tempting, on some level. More of Cesare? Even one more month, knowing the end would come, was still something. But she knew each day would be agony, that to accept his terms with the knowledge he intended to end it would be a form of barbarous torture.

  She straightened, moving away from the wall, pacing towards the windows that framed the spectacular view of the ocean.

  ‘Meaning what, exactly?’ Her voice was hoarse, her tender heart trying to come to grips with the realisations that were exploding through her.

  ‘Almer Hall will be unencumbered. All you have to do is say the word.’

  ‘And you’ll call my bank and pay millions more pounds, just so I’ll make love to you until you decide you don’t want me?’ She whirled around, grabbing onto her fury with both hands, glad to have it, infinitely glad to feel it, needing its barren echo to rattle her into sense. ‘And if I want more? Credit cards? Dresses? Diamonds?’

  His eyes widened for a moment and then he shrugged, his expression so loaded with determination that her heart swelled in pain for him. How little did he value himself to think such luxuries would ever be necessary?

  ‘If you wish.’

  ‘No, damn it!’ She waved her hand through the air emphatically and his eyes followed the gesture, watching her in the way he had that was so intense it was like a caress.

  ‘Damn it.’ She groaned again. ‘Do you really think I want any of that?’