Читать книгу The Platinum Collection - Эбби Грин, Maisey Yates - Страница 11

CESARIO had a clear view of Jess climbing out of her old Land Rover with several dogs leaping out in her wake.

She had said it was her day off and he had naturally assumed she would dress up for the occasion. Smarten up for their meeting even a little? Surely that was a normal expectation? But she was wearing jeans and a T-shirt roomy enough to fit him below a tweedy woollen cardigan that would not have shamed a scarecrow. Nothing she wore fitted or flattered. He clenched his even white teeth, acknowledging that if, against all the odds, they contrived to reach an agreement, there was definitely going to have to be a lot of compromise on both sides of the fence. She might not do couture, but he definitely didn’t do dog hairs.

Tommaso beamed at Jess as if they were old friends and showed her into an imposingly large reception room decked out with almost rock-star glamour in dramatic shades of black and purple. Sumptuous velvet sofas, glass tables and defiantly modern art set the tone. A few minutes later, the older man reappeared with a tray of coffee and biscuits and assured her that his employer would be with her very shortly.

‘Business…always business,’ he lamented, mimicking a phone to his ear with one hand and rolling his eyes with speaking disapproval.

So jumpy that she couldn’t sit still, Jess lifted her cup of coffee and wandered over to examine a colourful painting, struggling to work out if what looked vaguely like a weird face really was meant to be a face. Her taste in art was strictly traditional and very much confined to country landscapes and animal portraits. She would not have given houseroom to Cesario’s valuable collection of contemporary art. Her mobile phone trilled and she dug it out one-handed, hastening over to a side table to set down her coffee once she realised that it was her mother, Sharon, calling.

Sharon was in floods of tears, which made it hard to distinguish what she was saying, but Jess soon picked up the gist. Her father had bared his soul over breakfast and had then beat a very fast masculine retreat from the questions and reproaches hurled at him in the aftermath of his confession. Her mother was in emotional bits, convinced her husband was on the brink of being dragged off to prison for his part in the robbery at the hall.

‘That stupid holiday…all this over that stupid holiday I could very well have done without!’ Sharon sobbed heartbrokenly. ‘And we’ll lose the house into the bargain…’

Jess’s brows pleated. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘Well, Mr sodding di Silvestri is not going to let us stay in one of his properties after what your father’s done to him, is he?’ Sharon wailed. ‘I’ve lived here since I was eighteen and I couldn’t bear to lose my home too. And what about your brothers’ jobs on the estate? Mark my words, Martin faces won’t fit at Halston Hall any more and some way will be found to get rid of us all!’

Jess said what she could to calm her down but Sharon was an emotional woman and a natural pessimist. In Sharon’s mind the worst that could happen had happened, and she and her family were already homeless, jobless and broke. Having promised that she would call in later that morning, Jess finally got off the phone and found Cesario watching her from the doorway.

For a split second, she just stared, totally unnerved to find herself the target of that silent scrutiny. Formally clad in a dark business suit and vibrant silk tie, Cesario was effortlessly elegant and intimidating, only the shadow of dark stubble around his strong jaw line making it clear that his morning had commenced at a much earlier hour. She had always thought he was very good-looking but at that moment he looked stunningly handsome, his need for a shave adding a sexy rough edge to his usual immaculate appearance.

‘My mother…my father finally worked up the courage to tell her what he had done,’ Jess explained awkwardly as she put away her phone, her cheeks pink from her thoughts. ‘She’s very upset.’

‘I’m sure she must be.’ Cesario noted the level of stress etched in the tightness of her delicate features. It was an immediate source of satisfaction to him that it was within his power to banish that anxiety from her life. He had lain awake half of the night working out exactly what he wanted and what would work best: a simple straightforward arrangement free of demanding emotions and unrealistic hopes. In the most essential way they would each retain their independence.

‘You mentioned a proposition…’ she muttered nervously, digging her hands into her pockets, unable to conceal her tension from him

‘Hear me out before you give me an answer,’ he advised her quietly, registering that, in spite of her unprepossessing clothing, when she looked directly at him she looked so amazingly young and lovely that it was an effort for him to recall what he had planned to say to her. ‘And remember that by the time our agreement would come to an end you would be in a most advantageous position.’

She was mystified by that assurance and reference to an agreement, her smooth brow indented, her confusion palpable. But, keen to hear what he had to say, she nodded slowly.

Cesario viewed her with hooded eyes. ‘At its most basic, I have come up with a way in which you could help me and in return I would not prosecute your father.’

Eyes wide and hopeful, Jess snatched in an audible breath. ‘All right, tell me. How could I help you?’

‘I would like to have a child but not in the conventional way,’ Cesario explained wryly, his lean aquiline profile taut as she gazed back at him, fine brows rising in surprise. ‘I’ve never been convinced that I can meet one woman and spend the rest of my life with her. On the other hand I believe I could handle a marriage that had a more practical foundation.’

Jess was now frowning more than ever as she struggled to follow what he was telling her and divine how on earth such a topic could relate to her father’s predicament. ‘How can a marriage be practical?’ she asked him uncertainly, convinced that in some way she had misunderstood, because she found it hard to believe that he could possibly be discussing the subject of marriage with her.

‘When it’s a straightforward contract freed from flowery ideals and expectations like love, romance and permanence,’ Cesario outlined with unconcealed enthusiasm. ‘If you will agree to have a child with me I will marry you, give you your freedom back within a couple of years and ensure that you need never worry about money again.’

In the grip of astonishment at that sweeping suggestion and his clear conviction that he was making her a generous offer, Jess looked away from him momentarily before turning her head back sharply to stare at him. ‘You can’t be serious—for goodness’ sake, you’re young, handsome and rich,’ she pointed out. ‘There must be any number of women who would be eager to marry you and give you a family.’

‘But I don’t want a hedonistic gold-digger for a wife or, for that matter, as an unsuitable mother for my child. I want an intelligent, independent woman who will accept my terms and know to expect nothing more lasting from me.’

Not unpleased to be styled both intelligent and independent, Jess stood a little taller. ‘But if you’re not prepared to commit to a long-term relationship with a woman, why on earth do you want a child?’

‘The two are not mutually exclusive. I would commit to my relationship with the child,’ Cesario declared with conviction, willing her to see the sound sense behind his arguments. ‘I’m not being selfish.’

Jess shook her dark head slowly, her disapproval patent. ‘Are you so keen to have a child that you can’t wait until you meet the right woman to marry?’

‘I would like to say yes and impress you with my credentials as a child-loving male. I do very much want a child of my own,’ Cesario proclaimed, his strong sensual mouth compressing with a level of gravity that she had not previously seen in him. ‘But that isn’t the whole story…’

Unsurprised, Jess nodded acceptance of that admission. ‘I thought not.’

‘I am the descendant of a long unbroken line of di Silvestris,’ Cesario recounted, his brilliant dark eyes narrowing and focusing on a distant point beyond the windows, his attitude one of detachment while his crisp drawl became oddly flat in its delivery. ‘My grandfather was immensely proud of that fact. He was obsessed with blood ties and he devoted his life to researching our family tree. Unfortunately he tied his Tuscan estate up in such a way that I cannot legally inherit from my late father unless I have an heir. Male or female, it doesn’t matter, but I must have an heir to retain ownership of the family home.’

‘My goodness, that was very short-sighted and controlling of him!’ Jess commented helplessly. ‘I mean, you might have been gay or not remotely interested in having a child.’

‘But I’m not gay,’ Cesario pointed out drily. ‘And I am now choosing to look on this as a project that can be completed.’

‘A project…having a baby is a project?’ Jess repeated in consternation, her thoughts in turmoil.

She thought that it was deeply ironic that he should cherish a desire for something that lay so close to her own heart when they had absolutely nothing else in common. He wanted a child for mainly practical reasons, while she simply wanted a child to love and share her life with. ‘I think it would be very wrong for you to bring a child into the world just so that you can inherit some family property.’

‘That’s one angle, but there are others. I would love my child, who would enjoy a fine education, a supportive family, and who would ultimately inherit everything that I possess,’ Cesario responded levelly. ‘Any child of mine would enjoy a good life.’

‘Why don’t you just hire a surrogate mother?’ Jess asked bluntly. ‘Surely that would make more sense?’

‘That wouldn’t meet my requirements at all. I come from a conservative background and I prefer that my child be born within what would appear to be a normal marriage for its duration. I also want my son or daughter to have a mother’s love and care. I grew up without a mother,’ he admitted with an expressive twist of his sensual mouth. ‘That’s not at all what I want for my own child.’

‘I assumed that, in the circumstances you mentioned, you would be seeking full custody of any child that you had,’ Jess remarked.

‘No. I would not seek more than shared custody and visiting rights. I firmly believe that a child needs a mother to flourish.’

‘And a father,’ she added abstractedly, thinking of her own childhood when she had adored having her father’s attention.

‘Of course,’ Cesario di Silvestri conceded, but the clipped edge of his voice and the austerity of his expression drew her gaze and she could only wonder what unhappy memory she had contrived to awaken as his lean dark features had shadowed with an expression of regret.

Jess breathed in slow and deep, her brain racing over the outrageous proposition he had outlined, lingering on the pitfalls she saw in the concept and almost immediately rejecting it in full. What he was asking was not only impossible, but insane. She, personally, could not marry a man she did not even like, get into a bed with him and conceive his child. Even thinking about taking part in such a shocking scheme made her tummy somersault and her face burn with the heat of embarrassment.

‘You’re asking me, but I couldn’t possibly marry you,’ she declared in a feverish rush.

Cesario dealt her a long measuring look as cool as iced water, for while she might be flustered by the tone of the conversation, he was most definitely not. He also knew that if she rejected his offer he would very much regret having made it. ‘You must accept that this is the only option you have and the only offer I have to make you.’

‘But it’s scarcely a reasonable offer,’ Jess complained, her chin coming up in an open challenge.

‘I disagree.’ His dark eyes gleamed gold below the thick dark screen of his lashes, his lean, strong face implacable. ‘In return, I would be making a considerable sacrifice in letting your father and his partners in crime go unpunished. I would also be accepting the permanent loss of my painting without financial compensation as, in this situation, I could not approach the police or make an insurance claim.’

Sobered by that view of the consequences of any agreement being reached, Jess swallowed hard. He had not been joking when he’d talked about offering her a deal. He wanted something in return for the loss of his valuable painting and why not? She thought it unlikely that Cesario di Silvestri was accustomed to being on the losing side of any exchange. And the only thing he seemed to want right now was to become a father without agreeing to the level of commitment or the expectations that would accompany a conventional marriage.

Bearing in mind what she knew about Cesario di Silvestri, that made very good sense to Jess. No woman had ever held his interest for long and it was a challenge to picture him settling down with one woman to start a family in the usual way. On the other hand, choosing a wife and future mother for his child on the basis of cold, hard practicality would sentence him to fewer restrictive ties. A wife who was only pretending to be a proper wife would not require much time or attention either. Yes, as she considered his proposition she could certainly see the advantages from his point of view.

And from this practical wife’s point of view? A cold contract with a pregnancy and an eventual divorce already organised and agreed upfront? Jess studied her tightly linked hands. Was his proposition really any more distasteful than the conception by artificial means that she had once considered? Much as she longed for a baby, she had not been attracted to the possibility of visiting a sperm bank to be inseminated so that she could conceive a baby by a man she would know next to nothing about. But at least actual intimacy would not have featured in that arrangement.

‘If I wasn’t so attracted to you I wouldn’t even be giving you this option,’ Cesario murmured under his breath, the husky timbre of his voice rasping down her taut spinal cord like a physical caress.

Jess glanced up from below her lashes, grey eyes wide and troubled. She felt like someone needing to take cover from a hail of bullets when there was no hiding place available. Her brain was telling her firmly and repeatedly that she could not accept his offer and that some things, not least conception, were sacred and could not be bought. But at the same time when there was no other alternative and her father was in so much trouble…

‘If we have not reached an agreement by the time that you leave, I will be calling in the police,’ Cesario spelt out with a quietness that was all the more chilling for its lack of volume. ‘I now have the proof I need to have charges laid against your father.’

‘For goodness’ sake, you can’t expect any woman to just agree to have a baby with you when there’s no existing relationship in place!’ Jess exclaimed, shattered by the speed with which he had turned up the pressure on her.

‘Why not? Women get married and have children with men they don’t love every day of the week. Marriage is a legal contract for good reasons. Many women marry for money, security or status,’ Cesario contended. ‘You are not being asked to make a huge sacrifice.’

Jess bit down on her impetuous tongue and viewed him from behind furiously resentful silvery eyes for demanding the one thing she could not face agreeing to give him. In her opinion his outrageous offer was just typical of his arrogant, insensitive personality. Giving him a child wasn’t a sane doable proposition for a woman like her. She was a very private person and solitary in her outlook. His very lifestyle, habits and tastes were anathema to her and she knew that for a fact before she even tried to add in the horrors of going to bed with a stranger. ‘Is that so?’

‘Yes, that is so. As far as I’m aware there is no boyfriend in your life to complicate matters and I too am free of any ties. I assure you that if you were to become my wife I would treat you with respect and generosity. This house would be your home. I would not expect you to make a permanent move to Italy on my behalf. In many aspects your life would continue as it always has.’

Jess tried to imagine him in her bed with life continuing as it always had, and almost loosed an overwrought giggle in blunt and incredulous disagreement. But native caution was already beginning to restrain her from a too hasty response.

‘Perhaps it is the thought of having to get pregnant that you find most off-putting—’

‘No,’ she cut in abruptly, surprising herself as much as him. ‘I’m at an age when I would very much like a baby, even if it did mean ending up on my own as a single parent. But have you really thought about this idea? You could marry me and I might fail to conceive.’

‘That would be fate. I would be disappointed but I would accept it with good grace,’ Cesario declared.

The sunshine coming through the window drenched his tall powerful figure in shades of bronze and gold and turned his dark deep-set eyes to gleaming topaz brilliance. As she stared her colour fluctuated and her antipathy to him was only heightened by the quickening of her heartbeat. If she said no, it would be because she did not know how she could possibly hope to fulfil the terms of giving him a positive answer. But she did not feel that she had a choice, or at least she had no choice when faced by the likelihood of her father being imprisoned and the family she adored being torn apart by the fallout from Robert Martin’s folly.

Almost thirty years earlier, Robert had promised to bring up Jess as his own child. He had stood faithfully by that promise, even when he’d been censured for not marrying Sharon until her daughter had been almost a year old because everybody had simply assumed that her child was his. In those days, having a child out of wedlock had still been a big deal in a country village and Jess’s mother had had a tough time during her months as an unmarried mother. Robert Martin had taken a big gamble when he’d married the woman he loved who, at the time, had willingly admitted that she did not love him. Sometimes, Jess reckoned, in a state of painful anxiety and uncertainty, the only way to move forward was to close your eyes and take a leap in the dark.

‘All right…I’ll do it!’ she breathed with an abruptness that shocked even her as she suppressed her teeming flood of misgivings and tendered agreement without allowing herself to think too hard about what she was doing.

And Cesario di Silvestri actually smiled, but not with the usual curl of his handsome mouth that had on previous occasions left her unimpressed. He gave her a dazzling smile powered by enough charisma to float a battleship, his lean, darkly handsome features energised by that expression on his wide, sensual mouth.

‘You won’t regret this,’ he asserted with confidence, reaching for her hand to mark their accord. Just before he released her fingers he noticed the line of paler scar tissue along the back of her hand and asked abruptly, ‘What happened here?’

Jess froze and paled, her heart suddenly beating frantically fast. ‘Oh, an accident…a long time ago,’ she heard herself say, only just resisting the temptation to yank her hand free again.

‘It was a nasty one,’ Cesario remarked, releasing her fingers.

He had picked an unfortunate moment in which to notice that scar and rouse bad memories. Indeed Jess had barely agreed to marry him before she fell into the turmoil of doubt and regret, but she rammed back those feelings and simply nodded, focusing her thoughts on the future rather than on that distressing episode from her past. The end would justify the means, she told herself urgently. Cesario would get what he wanted but so would she. Her child would still be her child to keep and he or she would benefit from a father. She would not think about the bedroom end of things, she absolutely would not think about that aspect until she was forced to do so.

‘I’ll get my staff to make a start on the wedding arrangements,’ Cesario informed her.

Jess studied him in dismay. ‘You are in a hurry.’

‘Naturally…I wouldn’t want you to change your mind, piccola mia,’ Cesario sent her a winging appraisal, his beautiful mouth taking on that sardonic curl she had always disliked. ‘And we have no reason to waste time before we embark on our project, have we?’

‘I suppose not,’ she mumbled as she bent to lift her jacket.

Cesario extended his hand and, when she failed to grasp his intention, simply and coolly removed the jacket from her grasp before shaking it open for her to put on. Colouring as she finally realised what he was doing, she turned to slide her arms into the sleeves, tensing beneath the familiarity when he tugged her hair out from below the collar where it was caught.

‘I’ll look forward to seeing your hair loose,’ he told her with husky anticipation.

And something in his dark voice and the intensity of his appraisal as she turned her head spooked her so that she backed off a hasty step. No man had ever had the power to make her so conscious of her own body, and around him she always felt clumsy and naïve.

Cesario ignored the arms she had crossed in front of her like a defensive barrier and touched her cheek with a reproving brown forefinger. ‘You’re going to be my wife. You will have to get used to being touched by me.’

‘And how am I supposed to do that?’ Jess questioned, infuriated by the fact that at such speed and with even less effort he had reduced her to a state of almost adolescent awkwardness in his presence.

Ignoring the distrustful vibrations that she was putting out, Cesario closed his hand over one of hers and tugged her inexorably closer. ‘Try relaxing first…’

Her teeth momentarily chattered together behind her closed lips as if she had been plunged suddenly into an icy bath.

‘I’m only going to kiss you,’ he imparted silkily.

Jess froze, her silvery eyes flickering with dismay at even that prospect. ‘No—’

‘We have to start somewhere, piccola mia.’

But he surprised her by releasing her hand and she snatched it back and was about to retreat further until it occurred to her that she could no longer afford to follow her own inclinations where he was concerned. If she couldn’t even allow him to kiss her, he would naturally assume that she couldn’t handle their agreement and he would withdraw his proposal. She froze like a bird confronted by a hungry stalking cat.

Cesario laughed softly in triumph and colour ran like a fire up over her cheekbones. She gazed up at him, properly aware for almost the first time of how much taller and heavier he was, six feet plus inches of lean, power-packed muscle. Her colour drained away, silvery eyes veiling as she reminded herself that she had no reason to fear him, but her body wasn’t listening to her brain, for it was angling backwards without her volition, almost tipping her off balance. Her heart was positively thundering in her ears.

‘There are some things I’m very good at,’ Cesario delivered with innate assurance. ‘And this is one of them, piccola mia.’

And his mouth slid across her sealed-shut lips as lightly as a dandelion seed borne by the breeze. She had expected passion, but he defied her expectations and her heart set up an even louder thump behind her breastbone, the pace speeding up as he brushed his knowing mouth back over hers and the extent of her tension made her rigid. The tip of his tongue scored that seam of denial and her body came alive when she was least prepared for it, a jerky quiver of feminine response slivering through her with almost painful effect as she parted her lips to let him kiss her properly. It was slow and hot and very thorough and it shook her up because her nipples pinched into hard little buds and her breasts swelled so that her bra felt as if it was constricting her ability to breathe. As his tongue delved with erotic skill into the sensitive interior of her mouth, moist heat surged between her thighs and she trembled.

‘That’s enough,’ she said shakily, her hands rising against his broad shoulders to push him back from her. Feverishly flushed, she found it hard to accept that once again she had enjoyed the feel of his mouth on hers. She had thought it was a fluke the last time he had kissed her and she had been intimidated by the pent-up passion she could feel in him.

‘No, it’s only the beginning,’ Cesario husked, smouldering golden eyes fringed by dense black lashes roving boldly over her averted face so that when she glanced up, she flinched at that visual connection and hurriedly looked away.

‘This wedding you mentioned,’ Jess remarked hurriedly, keen to move on to a less controversial subject because she was taken aback by the way he was looking at her. She stifled an urge to shiver because she felt cornered. She was not so naïve that she didn’t recognise the force of his desire for her and she could hardly afford to knock the source of her apparent appeal when it was probably the main reason he was offering her a wedding ring and her father’s freedom. ‘When would it take place?’

‘As soon as it can be arranged—it will be a proper wedding,’ Cesario decreed without hesitation. ‘With the dress, the big guest list, the whole bridal show.’

‘Is that really necessary?’ Jess pressed uneasily, wincing at the prospect of having to play the blushing bride for an audience of posh strangers.

‘It won’t look like a normal marriage otherwise,’ he pointed out.

‘Oh, my goodness, what am I going to tell my family?’ she suddenly gasped in an appalled undertone.

‘Not the truth, for that is only for you and I to know,’ Cesario spelt out in a tone of warning.

He had just given her an impossible embargo, but Jess was already reaching the conclusion that it was better not to blurt out unwary comments around Cesario. She knew even then that she would tell her mother the truth, but that she would present it in an edited version to satisfy her father’s curiosity without making the older man feel responsible for her predicament. She breathed in deep and slow, reminding herself firmly of the positive aspects to her situation and repeating them over and over to herself in a soothing mantra. Her father would not pay the price for his stupidity and her family circle would stay intact. She would hopefully end up with the baby she had long dreamt of having and she would even have that all important wedding ring on her finger first, since her mother set great store on a woman being married in advance of the arrival of children.

So what if it was a project rather than a wedding? She could cope with that. She was very realistic and, if he was as good at everything else as he was at kissing, given time she would surely come to terms with the more intimate aspects of their relationship. Women didn’t always marry just for love, she reminded herself doggedly, and neither did men, as Cesario was about to prove. If such a marriage was good enough for him when she was convinced that he could have so many more exciting options, it should be good enough for her as well.

‘Why did you choose me for this?’ she heard herself ask without warning.

His dense lashes swooped low over his brilliant dark gaze. ‘Ask me on our wedding night,’ he advised, a piece of advice that not unnaturally silenced her.