From Paris With Love

Cesare roughly seized her in his arms, and crushed her lips with his own.

CHAPTER THREE

CESARE’S KISS WAS angry and searing. His lips plundered hers, and all her anger and grief and pain seemed to explode beneath the fire of his touch, into an inferno.

He wrapped a strong arm around her waist, holding her tight against him, and his other hand ran along her bare arm, up her shoulder, down her naked back. She felt his body, hard against hers, and against her will a soft moan came from the back of her throat. Her skin felt scorched everywhere he touched. She was desperate to have him closer.

Now.

Her hand cupped the rough edge of his jawline, then moved back to tangle in his dark hair, pulling his mouth harder and deeper into hers.

She heard his hoarse intake of breath as he cupped her full, aching breasts over the lace of her bra. She was overflowing the cups now, and her belly was starting to get fuller as well. Would he notice? Would he guess? Would Cesare be able to see how he’d permanently branded her body as his, always and forever, without her saying a single word?

“All this time, I’ve been hating myself for a lack of self-control,” he said in a low voice. “Now I can hardly believe I had such restraint.” He lifted his gaze to hers, even as one of his hands slowly stroked her nearly naked body, over her white lace, causing her to tremble with need. “I can’t believe I waited so long.” His sensual lips curved as he cupped her face, tilting back her head. “No other woman has even interested me since that night....”

Her lips parted. No. Surely he couldn’t mean what she thought he meant....

With their bodies so close, standing together beside her bed, she felt his warmth and strength. She breathed in the bare hint of masculine cologne. She felt the electricity of his words, of his touch—the overwhelming sensual force of his complete attention. And Emma’s only defense, anger, crumbled.

He kissed her softly, briefly, butterfly kisses to each of her cheeks, tantalizingly close to the corners of her mouth. But hope, like a fragile spring bud unfolding in the snow, began to build inside her. She could hardly believe his shocking confession.

He’d been faithful....

“There’s really been no other woman for you since our night?” she breathed.

He shook his head, his eyes dark. “Has there been someone for you?”

The question made her choke out a laugh. “How could there be?”

“Does that mean no?”

“Of course not!”

“Good.”

His sudden masculine smugness irritated her. “You admit something, too,” she said sharply.

“What?”

“You didn’t seduce me three months ago just because I was crying. You weren’t just trying to comfort me.”

He stared at her, then said quietly, “No.”

Her soul thrilled at the concession. She gloried in it. “You wanted me, too.”

He spoke a single grudging word, as if it were pulled from deep inside him. “Yes.”

“For how long?”

“Years,” he bit out.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she whispered.

“I was afraid you’d do exactly what you did today.” His hands undid the plaits of her braids, causing her long dark hair to fall down her back. She trembled as his hands stroked her long, tumbling waves of hair. “You’d get some crazy delusion of loving me, and then I’d have to fire you.”

“I am in love with you.”

He snorted. “If you really loved me, wouldn’t you be begging me to stay?”

“Because begging works so well with you.”

Slowly he lowered his head until his mouth was inches from hers.

“It’s just lust, cara,” he whispered, his lips almost brushing hers. “Not love....”

And holding her against his hard body in the shadowy bedroom, he kissed her, clutching her as if he were a drowning man and only she could save him. His lips plundered hers, teasing, gentling, searing.

As they stood together, he slowly kissed down her throat, his fingertips roaming softly over her naked skin. She felt the warmth of his hands cupping her breasts, stroking tight, aching nipples that peeked through white lace.

Leaning back in his arms, she gasped with pleasure and need. Until she lost her balance, and fell back against the bed, his arms still around her, their bodies entangled in their embrace.

The bed felt made of feathers beneath her. Still in her bra and panties, Emma slid against the duvet cover, and felt something sharp and cold beneath her thigh. She pulled it out and looked at the shining platinum face with confusion. “Your watch.”

“Forget it.” Taking it from her hand, he tossed the expensive watch across the room, causing it to scatter noisily across the hardwood floor before it hit the wall with a soft thunk.

She realized what the “feathers” she’d felt beneath her body actually had to be. Twisting, she tried to look beneath her. She was lying almost naked beneath him on a bed of money. “Everything’s still on the bed—”

“I don’t care,” he said roughly, and kissed her, until she forgot about the money, and wouldn’t have cared if she did.

Pulling away, he pulled off his shirt in an abrupt movement. Emma’s throat constricted as she reached out to touch the intoxicating vision of his naked chest, muscular and hard, with tanned skin that felt like silk over steel. She stroked down to the flat six-pack of his belly, laced with a scattering of dark hair. He was flesh and blood, this man she’d wanted so hopelessly, and loved for so long.

Covering her body with his own, Cesare kissed her. She felt his weight crushing her breasts, felt the slide of his warm bare skin against her own. He released the clasp of her bra and pulled off the slip of white lace, tossing it aside. He pulled her panties slowly past her hips, over her thighs, down her legs.

She was naked beneath him. Lying on a pile of money. She shouldn’t be doing this, she thought. Then he pulled off his pants and silk boxers, and rational thought left her entirely.

She gasped as she saw how large he was, how huge and hard. Slowly, he kissed down her body, licking and suckling her breasts. He caressed down the curve of her belly, then kissed her lips in a long, deep embrace that seemed to last forever, until she forgot where she ended and he began. Their bodies fused together in heat, skin to skin, slick and salty and sweet. Moving down her body, he pushed her legs apart with his knee, spreading them wide with his hands. Lowering his head, he nuzzled between her thighs. She felt his hot breath.

She gasped as, holding her hips firmly against the bed, he spread her wide and tasted her.

She twisted, rocking beneath him. The pleasure was too sharp, too explosive. Beneath the ruthless insistence of his tongue, she trembled and shook, gasping on the bed. Every time she moved, money went flying into the air. Durhams and dollars, pounds and pesos flew violently, then fell back softly like snow, sliding down the naked bodies clutched together on the bed.

The money felt whisper-soft, brushing against Emma’s face or shoulder or breast while she felt the hard, bristly roughness of his masculine body between her legs.

“Lust,” Cesare said in a low voice.

Their eyes locked over the curves of her naked body. She shook her head.

“Love...”

With a low growl, he lowered his head back between her legs. She felt the heat of his breath on her tender skin, and his tongue took another wide taste of her, then another. Slowly he caressed her, licking her in delicate swirls until her breathing came in gasps and her hands were gripping the bedsheets beneath her, along with fistfuls of yen and euros.

“Lust,” he whispered against her skin.

“No,” she choked out.

He thrust his tongue an inch inside her. She gave a shocked gasp in a voice she hardly recognized as her own. His hands roamed possessively over her, cupping her breasts, her waist, her hips. Reaching beneath her, he pressed her bottom upward, lifting her more firmly against his mouth, and impaled her more deeply with his tongue. His lips and soft wet tongue suckled the aching center of her need as he moved two thick fingertips inside her, where his tongue had been. She cried out, overwhelmed by the intensity of pleasure.

Her back arched from the feel of his fingers inside her and his tongue swirling over her and she gripped his shoulders as waves of ecstasy started to pull reality beneath her feet, crashing over her. She exploded, and as if from a distance, she heard herself scream—

Rolling beside her, he pulled her into the warm haven of his arms. Emma looked up at him with tears in her eyes.

It wasn’t just lust between them. It wasn’t.

If he’d only just give her a chance. If only he’d say something that would make her think she could tell him about the baby...

Leaning up, Emma put her hand on his cheek and kissed him in a deep, lingering embrace that left her chin and cheeks tingling from the rough bristles of his jaw. She could still feel his body straining against her. As he kissed her back, holding her tight, breathless hope ripped through her. She could show him he had nothing to fear. That their relationship could be so much more than lust. She knew the man he really was, yes. But she also knew the man he could be....

“Love,” she whispered silently against his lips.

Emma abruptly rolled him beneath her on the bed. He looked up at her, surprised. She smiled, her soul welling up with sudden certain joy. If he wouldn’t let her speak words of love...

She would show him.

* * *

Cesare stared up at the woman who’d just rolled him beneath her on the bed. He felt Emma’s hands stroke down his chest, as her legs straddled his hips.

She was so impossibly beautiful, he thought, dazzled by the pink flush of her creamy skin, the emerald gleam of her eyes. She looked down at him fiercely, like an ancient warrior queen who commanded an army of thousands eager to die in her name. Power emanated from her proud, curvaceous body like light. Power he’d never seen in her before.

“Emma,” he breathed. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Haven’t you figured it out?” Her full red lips curved into a smile as she lowered her head. She whispered against his mouth, “You have.”

She kissed him, and he felt that something had changed in her. Something he didn’t understand. She seemed—different. New. Beneath her touch, sparks flew up and down his body, a fire that burned him to blood and bone.

He’d wanted her for months. Years. But never like this. His body shook with need. She’d never, ever made the first move before.

He could hardly believe he’d once thought of Emma as having no feelings. This was who she really was: a seductive sex goddess, innocent and wanton, powerful and glorious...

As her lips caressed his, her long dark hair tumbled over his body, sliding over his overheated skin. Her full breasts brushed against his chest. With a moan, he cupped them with his hands. Breaking off their kiss, he wrenched his head to suckle a taut, pink nipple, licking it, pulling it into his mouth. His hand tangled in her hair, stroking down her naked back. He heard her moan. Felt her thighs tighten around his hips. He felt the soft, wet core of her brush the tip of his hardest edge as she swayed in innocently tantalizing torture.

Twisting away with a choked gasp, he started to reach for the wallet in his jacket hanging on a nearby chair, intending to retrieve a condom, but she stopped him.

“It’s not necessary.” She hesitated, then said slowly, “This time because I’m actually—”

“You’re still on the Pill?” He exhaled. “Thank God.” She stiffened, and he wondered if he’d said something rude, though he couldn’t imagine what. Women could be sensitive, and even though Emma was the most rational woman he knew, she was still undeniably a woman. Oh, yes. Running his hand down the curve of her bare breast—even fuller than he remembered—he looked up at her with heavy-lidded eyes. “I love that you are always prepared, Miss Hayes.”

She leaned forward, allowing her long dark hair to trail sensuously across his bare chest as she said pointedly, “Emma.”

“Emma,” he groaned as her fingertips trailed down his body. “Oh, God—Emma—”

Reaching up, he kissed her, and as she leaned down to kiss him back, he could wait no longer. Pulling her down on him with his hands, he simultaneously thrust up with his hips, pushing inside her, and heard her gasp as he filled her soft, wet body.

God. He’d never felt anything like this. He rammed inside her, filling her hard and deep. She slid over his hips, riding him, and his whole body started to tighten. No. No, it was too soon. The intensity of pleasure was too much. But being inside her without a condom...skin to skin...

He gripped her shoulders. “I’m not sure how long I can last,” he said hoarsely. “Give me... Give me a minute to...”

But it seemed Emma’s days of obedience were over. She continued to slide against him. He looked up, intending to protest. He stopped when he saw how her eyes were closed, her beautiful face rapt and shining in ecstasy.

No! He squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t see her like that! Not when at any moment he could... He could... But even with his eyes closed, he could still see her shining face, see her full breasts swaying above him as she moved. He felt tighter—tighter—about to explode...

“You feel so good,” she whispered. “So—good...”

“Oh, my God,” he said in a strangled voice. “Stop!”

Gripping his shoulders, she leaned forward, so close he could feel the brush of her lips against his earlobe, and whispered, “Love.”

It was the one thing that made him cold.

“Lust,” he growled back, and flung his body over hers, lying her beneath him on the bed. He ran his hands down her body, licking and sucking every inch of her skin. Sitting back against the pillows, he pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her.

Tangling his hands in her hair, he tilted back her head and kissed her deeply. Lifting up her body, he lowered her hips heavily against him, thrusting slowly inside her. He rocked against her, controlling the rhythm and speed, slowing down when he came too close to exploding. Face-to-face, breath to breath, their eyes locked, their arms wrapped around each other, as close as two lovers could possibly be. He made love to her for what felt like hours until finally she gasped against him one more time, closing her eyes with a cry.

Cesare could hold back no longer. Kissing her shoulder, he sucked hard against her skin, and let himself go. He thrust inside her four times, so deep and hard that he exploded, so close to heaven that he saw only stars.

He saw only her.

Exhaling, he collapsed, still holding her tight.

It took long moments for Cesare to fall back to earth. He slowly became aware of the ticking of the old antique clock on the mantel. Blinking in the darkness, he saw he was in Emma’s bed, in her suite of rooms on the second floor of his Kensington house. Moonlight was creeping in through the edges of the window shades as he still cradled her in his arms. He felt her cheek against his chest. Against his heart.

He shifted, cuddling her in the crook of his arm, her naked body against his own. He saw a small mark on her shoulder, where he’d sucked a little too hard in a love bite. That would leave a bruise, he thought. He’d marked her as his own. And for some reason he didn’t want to examine, he was glad.

Emma blinked, smiling up at him sleepily before she glanced down at the bed. “What a mess we’ve made.”

He looked down. The duvet and sheets were twisted at their feet and there were banknotes everywhere.

Cesare prided himself on discipline. He’d tried to do the sensible thing with Emma, to make them both forget their intoxicating night and return to their employer-employee relationship.

He’d failed. Massively.

And he was glad.

Now they could both have what they actually wanted. Yes, his home might fall apart without her in charge. At the moment he didn’t give a damn. Who cared about milk in the fridge or having his bed made perfectly? Who cared about it being made at all, so long as he had her in it?

Emma yawned, her eyes closing as she settled deeper into his arms. Leaning forward, he kissed her softly on the temple. His own eyelids were heavy.

As she drowsed in his arms, he still shuddered with aftershocks of pleasure from their lovemaking. Making love without a condom, to a woman he liked and trusted, was a wholly new experience.

He’d certainly never had it with his wife.

Cesare looked down at Emma’s face, half-hidden in shadow as she slept in his arms. She looked like a slumbering angel, her black eyelashes stark against her pale skin, and masses of her long, glossy dark hair tumbling over the pillow.

He felt exhausted, utterly spent. But as he closed his eyes, he smiled. He’d proved his point, and he was suddenly glad Emma had quit her job with him. That meant she’d be available for full-time pleasure. Their relationship might last for weeks, even months, now she understood there was no love involved. There would be no arguments, no goals of marriage or children to fight over. They could just enjoy each other’s company for as long as the pleasure lasted.... He fell asleep, smiling and warm.

When he woke, the shadows of the room had changed to the soft gray light of dawn. Emma was stirring in his arms. He saw she was looking up at him with big, limpid eyes.

“Good morning,” she said shyly.

Cesare stroked her cheek with amusement. “Good morning.”

She bit her lip. “Um. If you want to go sleep in your own room, I’ll understand....”

He placed a finger to her lips, gently stopping her. “I don’t.”

Her expression suddenly glowed. “You don’t?”

He didn’t blame her for being surprised. He was somewhat surprised himself. Usually he couldn’t wait to get out of a woman’s bed the morning after. He usually left long before morning, in fact.

But he felt oddly comfortable with Emma. He didn’t need to pretend with her, or play games, or be polite. It was strange, but he felt like he could just be himself, without trying to hide his flaws. How could he hide them? She knew them all.

“I’m hungry,” Emma confessed, sitting up. “I can’t stop thinking about fried eggs and bacon and oranges...”

Cesare kissed her bare shoulder. He was not thinking about food. “We could go down to the kitchen.” He let his fingertips trail over her breast. “Or we could have a little breakfast in bed first....”

“Yes,” she whispered, lifting her lips toward his. He stroked back her wildly tousled black hair.

“I’m so glad you came to your senses,” he murmured as he kissed her.

She drew back with a frown. “My senses?”

He smiled, twisting a long black tendril of her hair around his finger. “You are going to be a very enjoyable bit of carry-on baggage.”

“Oh, so now I’m baggage, am I?”

“I’ve decided you were right.”

Her green eyes suddenly shone. “You did?”

“I’m glad you quit,” he said lazily, running the pad of his thumb over her nipple, for the masculine pleasure of watching it instantly pebble beneath his touch. “I need to be in Asia tomorrow, Berlin on Friday.”

Lifting a dark eyebrow, she said lightly, “And I need to take that job in Paris.”

“You’re thinking about your job?” He snorted. “I want you to come with me.”

“Give up my career to do what—just hang out in your bed?”

“Can you think of a better idea?”

“I like my career.” Her voice had a new edge to it. “I’m good at it.”

“Of course you are. The best,” he said soothingly. He hadn’t meant to insult her. “But I’ll cover your expenses while you’re with me. We can just both enjoy ourselves. For however long this lasts.”

“Are you joking?” She sounded almost angry.

Cesare was still waiting for her burst of excited joy and arms to be thrown around him at the brilliance of his plan. Her joy didn’t seem to be forthcoming. “Don’t you understand what I’m offering you, Emma?”

“I must not,” she said. “Because it sounds like you expect me to drop everything for you, when all you want is sex.”

“Sex with you,” he pointed out. He would have thought that would be obvious. “And friendship,” he added as an afterthought. “It’ll be...fun.”

“Fun?” she said in a strangled voice.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. Wow. It’s the answer to all my childhood dreams. Fun.”

He was starting to grow irritated “You can throw away your mop and broom. No more twenty-four-hour days with a jerk for a boss.” He tried to laugh, but she didn’t join him at the joke. He continued weakly, “You’ll travel with me—see the world...”

Pulling away from him entirely, she looked at him in the gray dawn.

“For how long?” she said quietly.

“How should I know?” Sitting up straighter against the headboard, he folded his arms grumpily. “For as long as we’re enjoying ourselves.”

“And you’ll kindly pay me for my time.”

He ground his jaw. “You’re twisting this all around, making it sound like I’m trying to insult you. Why aren’t you happy? You should be happy—I’ve never offered any woman so much!”

She rebelliously lifted her eyes. “We both know that’s not true.”

A cold chill went down his spine. “You’re talking about my wife.”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t have to.

“Christo.” Cesare clawed back his hair. This couldn’t be happening. “We’ve been together only two nights, I’ve barely asked you to be my mistress, and you’re already pressuring me to marry you?”

“I didn’t say that!”

“You don’t have to.” He could see it in her face: that terrible repressed hope. The same expression he’d seen in so many women’s faces. The desire to pin him down, to hold him against his will, in a place he didn’t want to be. To make iron chains of duty and honor replace delight or even pleasure.

“You did get married once. You must have had a reason.”

Anger rushed through him. The memory of Alain Bouchard’s hateful voice. You married my sister for her money and then made her life a living hell. Is it any wonder she took the pills? You might as well have poured them down her throat.

Cesare’s lips parted to lash out. Then he forced himself to focus on Emma’s lovely, wistful face. It wasn’t her fault. He choked back furious, hateful words.

“I married for love once,” he said flatly. “I’ll never do it again.”

“Because you still love her,” she whispered. “Your wife.”

Cesare could see what Emma believed. That he’d loved Angélique so much that even a decade hadn’t been enough to get over the grief of losing her. He let it pass, as he always did. The beautiful, simple lie was so much better than the truth.

He set his jaw, facing her across the bed, not touching. Just moments before, they’d been so close. Now an ocean divided them.

“I thought I made myself clear. But it wasn’t enough. So hear this.” He looked at her. “I will never love you, Emma. I will never marry you. I will never want to have a child with you. Ever.”

In the rising pink dawn, every ounce of color drained from Emma’s beautiful, plump-cheeked face, causing the powerful light of joy to disappear, as if it had never existed.

It was hard to watch. Cesare took a steadying breath. He had to be cruel to be kind. If they were to be together, even for just a few weeks, she had to accept these things from the beginning.

“My feelings in this matter will never change,” he said quietly. “I thought you understood. I thought you felt the same.” He reached for her hand, trembling where it rested on the bed. “Lust.”

In a flash of anguish, her luminous eyes lifted to his. She shook her head. His eyes narrowed.

“You must accept this,” he said, “for us to have any future.”

A low, bitter laugh bubbled to her lips—the most bitter thing he’d ever heard from her. She ripped her hand away. “Future? No love, no marriage, no child. What kind of future is that?”

His jaw tightened. “The kind that is real. No promises to be broken. No pretense. No fakery. We just take it day by day, enjoying each other’s company, taking pleasure for as long as it lasts.”

“And then what?”

“We part as friends.” He looked at her. “I don’t want to lose your friendship.”

“My friendship?” Her lip curled. “Or my services?”

“Emma!”

“You want to stop paying me as your housekeeper, and hire me straight out as your whore. No, I get it.” Holding up her hand, she said coldly, “I’m sorry, this is awkward for you, isn’t it? Usually I’m the one who handles this, who puts out your trash the morning after.” She looked past the tangled mess of bedcovers at the foot of the bed, still surrounded by an explosion of money, to his platinum watch lying on the floor. “You even gave me a watch. Just like all the rest.”

His own personal watch was even more expensive than the Cartier ones, but he sensed telling her that wouldn’t impress her. “Emma, you’re being idiotic....”

“I really am just like the rest.” She threw the sheets aside and stood up from the bed. “I’ll just collect my things and buy myself some roses on the high street, shall I?”

But as she started to walk away from the bed, Cesare grabbed her wrist.

“Don’t do this,” he said in a low voice.

“Do what?”

“This.” He looked up at her, his eyes glittering. “I want you in my bed. For now. For as long as it’s fun for both of us. Can’t that be enough? Why do you need false promises of more? Why can’t you just accept what I freely offer you?”

Their eyes locked. He could see the pain in her gaze.

“I want more. I want it all,” she whispered. “Love. Marriage.” She swallowed, looking up at him. “I want a baby. Our baby.”

The air around him suddenly felt thin. He shrank back from her words. Literally. “Emma...”

“I don’t need a wedding proposal. Or for you to say you’re ready to be a father.” Her eyes met his. “I just need to know you might want those things someday.” She blinked fast. “That you might be open to the possibility...if something ever...”

“No,” Cesare choked out. Still naked, he scrambled back on the bed, putting his hand to his neck, feeling as if he had something tight around his throat. He took a deep breath, forcing his hands down, trying to calm down, to breathe. “Either this is a fun diversion, a friendship with benefits, or it’s nothing. You decide.”

She stared at him for a long moment, her face as pale as marble. Then, violently, she grabbed her white bra and panties off the floor and yanked them on her body. Walking to her closet, she pulled out big armfuls of clothes. “What was I thinking—” she kicked open her old suitcase “—to believe—” she tossed the clothes inside “—in miracles!”

Cesare rose to his feet. Still naked, he padded across the hardwood floor. Without her warmth next to him, the bedroom felt chilly in the autumn morning. He heard traffic noise from the street outside. Soon, the house’s day staff would arrive. He desperately wanted this settled before they were interrupted. He felt Emma was slipping away from him. He didn’t understand why. With a deep breath, he tried once more.

“Why are you throwing everything away for the sake of some distant future? Think about today.” Wrapping his arms around her waist from behind, he nuzzled the side of her neck and said in a low voice, “Let tomorrow take care of itself....”

Her skin was cold to the touch. She pulled away. Her beautiful face looked more than forlorn now—she looked frozen.

He sucked in his breath. He searched her face. “You’re still going to leave, aren’t you,” he breathed. “You’re still going to throw everything away for dreams of love, marriage and children. For a delusion. I can’t believe you’d be such a...”

Emma’s eyes were stony. She looked as if her soul had been shattered.

“...fool?” she finished.

He gave a single stiff nod.

She shook her head, wiping her eyes. “You’re right. I have been a fool. A stupid romantic fool who believed a man like you could ever change.”

Kneeling down, she gathered all the piles of money off the floor and dumped it into her suitcase. Picking up the platinum watch, she tossed it inside, then closed the suitcase with a bang. She looked down.

“Thank you for your offer,” she said in a low voice. “I’m sure some other woman will take you up on it.” She looked up, her eyes luminous with tears. “But I’m going to have a baby, and a home. And a man who loves us both.”

Her words, spoken with such finality, hit him like a blow. He’d just offered Emma more than he’d offered any woman in ten years. And this was his reward for letting himself be vulnerable. Though he stood in front of Emma right now in flesh and blood, she was still rejecting him for some ridiculous fantasy of love and a child.

Something Cesare hadn’t felt in a long, long time—something he’d thought he would never feel again—sliced through his heart.

Hurt.

His arms dropped. He stepped back.

“Bene,” he said stiffly. “Go.”

She pulled on jeans and a T-shirt. She picked up a few errant fifty-dollar banknotes off the floor and tucked them securely in her pocket, then lifted her chin. “Don’t worry. I won’t bother you again. I’ll leave you alone to live the life you want. I give you my word.” She held out her hand as if they were strangers. “Goodbye, Cesare.”

His lips tightened, but he shook her hand.

“Arrivederci, Signorina Hayes. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

Her green eyes shimmered, and she turned away without a word. Gathering her suitcase, her coat and her bag, Emma left the tidy bedroom. Cesare listened to her suitcase thump, thump, thump down his stairs. He listened to the front door open—and then latch closed.

She’d really gone. He couldn’t believe it.

Going to the window, he looked down and watched her walk away, down the sidewalk toward Kensington High Street, in the drizzling rain of London’s gray morning. He watched her small, forlorn figure with an old suitcase and a beige mackintosh, and felt a strange twist in his chest.