The Sicilian's Wife

‘Of course he told me—I am a friend after all.’

‘Did he ask you to help him—to bail him out? And you agreed?’

Some degree of strength was returning to her limbs now, and her brain seemed to be functioning with just a degree or two of clarity. If he was prepared to help her father, save Tom Ellis from the almost inevitable bankruptcy that was now staring him in the face, then at least one of her worries would be eased.

‘You said you’ll lend him what he needs?’

The change in Cesare’s face gave her the answer without a word having been spoken. The dark, carved features seemed to close up; the burnt-coffee-coloured eyes clouding as they met the urgent entreaty in hers. He had moved away from her mentally before he stepped back physically, withdrawing into himself in the space of a couple of heartbeats.

‘No,’ he said softly. ‘I did not.’

‘You did not!’ Megan repeated, unable to believe what she had heard. ‘You said no! I don’t believe—’

‘Believe it!’ Cesare cut in sharply, not liking this direction the conversation had taken. ‘Your father told me of his problems. Regrettably…’

‘Regrettably… Oh, yes, I just bet you regretted it.’

The cynicism in Megan’s voice, the way it twisted at her mouth, dulled her eyes, made him wince. He wouldn’t have hurt her this way if he could have helped it.

‘You could have afforded it! The amount he needed would have been just a drop in the ocean compared with the fortune you possess! Why, you must make that much or more in just a year or so!’

Megan had got to her feet now and was coming towards him furiously. The anger that sparked in the depths of her eyes actually made him take a step or two backwards, away from her.

‘Yes, I could have afforded it.’

‘And you weren’t prepared to do so! I thought you were his friend!’

‘I am. Dannazione, Megan, you know I am!’

The haughty toss of her head dismissed his words with supreme contempt, green flames flaring in the angry eyes that blazed into his.

‘Some sort of friend that wouldn’t help him when he most needed you!’

Cesare could not hold back an impatient sigh as he raked both hands through the midnight-dark strands of his hair. He had hoped to have this conversation later—much, much later when things would have had a very different sort of perspective.

‘Meggie,’ he remonstrated as calmly as possible, ‘it wouldn’t have done any good. Your father understands that.’

‘Well, I don’t! I think you’re going to have to explain it for those of us who aren’t blessed with your near-genius financial ability. And don’t “Meggie” me! I might have let you call me that when I was growing up, but I’m no longer a child. I’m a woman of twenty-two, with three years at university and a degree behind me. I’ve done a lot of maturing lately!’

‘You certainly have.’

Dark-chocolate eyes skimmed over her slender figure in the close-fitting jeans and T-shirt, lingering appreciatively on the high curves of her breasts in a way that made Megan think unwillingly of the changes she had sensed in her body over the last week or so.

‘My name is Megan and I’ll thank you to remember that!’

‘Of course.’

His smile at her outrage was wry, and the small, sideways inclination of his head in acknowledgement of her outburst seemed to make a mockery of the apparent gesture of submission.

‘Are you laughing at me?’ Megan demanded suspiciously.

‘Would I dare?’ he returned drily, the lift of humour in his voice, the hint of a gleam in his eyes, tugging at something in her heart.

The man was too damned attractive for his own good, she told herself furiously—furiously because she didn’t want to find anything in him appealing right now. Once she had thought him the most delicious, the most devastating man in the world, but not any more. Especially not now! Though when he smiled like that…

Hastily she caught herself up, cursing her wandering mind. Such thoughts were dangerous, weakening her when she most needed to be strong.

‘My father might understand, but I certainly don’t! Would you care to explain?’

No, Cesare answered in the privacy of his thoughts. No, I would definitely not care to explain. Once more he was caught by the way he had given his word to Tom Ellis. The older man was proud to the point of stupidity. Even to rescue his company he couldn’t take a hand-out from his friend—but his son-in-law was a different matter.

‘If Meggie marries you,’ he’d said, ‘then I’ll take your money. It will be a family matter then. But not otherwise.’

Tom had demanded that this deal was to be a secret between the two of them and, knowing it was the only way his stubborn friend would take his help, he had been forced to agree. But his loyalty to Tom was being worn away by his feelings for the woman in front of him.

Did she know how it twisted a knife in his heart when she had looked at him, first with that entreaty in her eyes, and then with the scorn that had replaced it? And what made it so much worse was the instinctive, very basic way that his body reacted simply to being in the same room as her. Every sense was on heated red-alert, his pulse throbbing heavily in his veins. Since the moment he had walked into the room to find her sitting in the shadows, he had been fighting the impulse to grab her and kiss her, plundering her mouth with the force of the hunger that had him in its grip.

But to act on that impulse would be the most stupid behaviour he could come up with. At best, it would annoy and alienate her. At worst, it would drive her right away from him, send her screaming from the room. With a violent struggle he pushed the uncomfortable feelings back down inside himself, stamping on them hard.

‘Cesare…’ Megan’s tone was a warning. ‘Explain!’

‘Your father’s in a very tricky situation,’ he began carefully. ‘The state of the markets has just about destroyed the value of his investments—and the company’s been having problems too.’

‘So why wouldn’t you help him?’

‘I’m not in the business of buying up failing concerns! If word got about that I’d done it for one, then next moment I’d have thousands of lame dogs at my door, looking for a rescue deal—a hand-out!’

Pushed to the limit by the reproach in her voice, Cesare flung the words at her then almost immediately wished them back as he saw her recoil in distaste at his outburst. For perhaps the millionth time he cursed the promises to Tom Ellis that tied him down, making him feel like an angry, frustrated fly caught in the imprisoning, sticky threads of a huge spider’s web.

‘It isn’t sound business sense, Megan.’ But for Tom he would do it. If he got the chance.

‘Oh, and we must always put “business sense” first!’ Megan flung back bitterly.

‘I wouldn’t have got where I am unless I had.’

‘No—you wouldn’t. But now that you are where you are, you seem to have lost all sense of caring about the smaller man. You used to have more charity than this, Cesare!’

‘It wouldn’t help!’

Stung beyond endurance, Cesare couldn’t hold back any longer. His conscience only added to the feeling of mental discomfort, giving him another reproachful twist as he saw her flinch as if he had slapped her in the face.

‘Your father’s in too deep—and he knows it! He couldn’t manage another loan—he owes too much already to too many people.’

Her silence betrayed the depth of her shock, and his spirits, already low, sank right to rock-bottom. This wasn’t how this had been supposed to go. But from the moment he had walked into the library nothing had followed the path he had expected.

‘It—it’s that bad?’

Megan felt as if there were a thousand angrily buzzing bees swarming inside her head, making it swim unpleasantly so that rational thought was impossible.