If Anya was his current girlfriend, she’d just made a bad move, Jenny thought. Dante Rossini liked to order things his way, and not even the lure of sexual pleasure right next door changed that aspect of his character.
‘No, no. I invited her,’ Lucia replied, still smug about her initiative. ‘I flew over to Rome to do some shopping and ran into her on the Spanish Steps. She was most upset about your leaving so abruptly, without a word to her, so I explained about Nonno sending you off to fetch Isabella, and then I thought you’d like some relaxation with Anya after such an arduous trip….’
‘In short, you interfered with what was none of your business.’
His tone would have made most people shrivel, but Lucia obviously thrived on his anger, positively enjoying herself.
‘You should be more caring of your women, Dante,’ she trilled back at him. ‘I was simply saving you from a nasty scene with Anya when you finally caught up with her again. I’m sure she’ll now be ever so sweet to you, all primed to smooth away your travel fatigue.’
Jenny felt a strong distaste for this conversation. She looked at the pots of flowers spaced between the columns, pretending total disinterest in Dante’s sex life, trying to keep herself emotionally separated from affairs that had nothing to do with her. Absolutely nothing.
Of course he would have a woman. What man like Dante Rossini wouldn’t? And no doubt Anya was beautiful and very beddable. Despite his annoyance at Lucia’s interference, Jenny expected him to choose the ready pleasures of a lover, especially since the arrangement was already in place. The potted flowers were lovely; geraniums, petunias, impatiens…
‘Bad judgement, Lucia,’ he said contemptuously. ‘Family takes priority at a time like this. You can deal with moving Anya out while I’m introducing Isabella to Nonno.’
A huge tide of relief swept through Jenny. His connection with her remained firm. She was more important to him than anything else. No, the deception was, she quickly corrected herself. He wasn’t about to abandon her during this testing time, not when his grandfather’s peace of mind was at stake. That came first. She kept her gaze trained on the flowers, but she heard real shock in Lucia’s response.
‘Don’t be so unreasonable!’ she snapped. ‘It’s not going to hurt Isabella…’
‘This is not open to argument, Lucia. You chose to invite Anya. She’s your responsibility. Do whatever you like with her, but Isabella is to occupy the suite next to mine. Make no mistake about that,’ he said with steely authority.
‘Anya won’t like it!’
‘Anya should have waited for me to contact her. If I wanted to.’
‘How can you be so cruel! She loves you.’
‘Since when have you become an authority on love?’ he mocked.
‘The two of you have been an item all this year.’
‘Don’t play games with me, Lucia. You’ll lose. Every time.’
His tone had moved to studied boredom. Jenny had no doubt that for him the issue was closed. She could feel Lucia seething with frustration, but had no sympathy for her. To her mind, people who set out to make mischief should be caught in their own net and made to pay.
‘One day your insufferable ego will be your undoing, Dante,’ Lucia warned venomously.
A little shiver of apprehension ran down Jenny’s spine. It was probably Dante’s ego that refused to accept failure, forcing her into this false identity. If Lucia somehow uncovered the deception…
‘Don’t hold your breath waiting for that day, Lucia,’ he drawled, emitting a confidence that eased Jenny’s spurt of fear, though didn’t completely eliminate it. Two months was a long time to be under the gun from this ‘cousin.’
‘Anyway, I can’t deal with Anya now. Nonno is waiting for us on the terrace.’
‘He’s not waiting for you,’ Dante coldly corrected her.
‘I won’t be shut out of Nonno’s first meeting with Isabella. He expects us to be all together.’
‘I’ll tell him you’ve already met Isabella. I doubt you’ll be missed. Nonno will want to focus all his attention on the grand-daughter he doesn’t know yet.’
‘It’s a point of hospitality, Dante,’ she grated out angrily.
‘If you insist on accompanying us, I’ll let him know just how inhospitable you’ve been, putting your guest ahead of the very special family member Nonno wants to feel welcomed here.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with the Blue Suite! Isabella, I promise you it’s beautiful.’
Jenny didn’t want to be dragged into the argument, but the direct appeal to her couldn’t be ignored. The colonnaded walkway had led into a fantastic atrium where they had come to a halt while the conflict was settled. It had a central water feature—a pool covered with gorgeous water-lilies—and she reluctantly lifted her gaze from these to look at Lucia.
Her younger ‘cousin’s’ dark eyes burned with the demand that she fall in with her plan, woman to woman against the man who divided them. For a moment Jenny was almost tempted, just to rattle Dante’s overbearing power, but the situation was too tricky for her to negotiate alone.
‘I’m sorry you’re being put to so much trouble on my account, Lucia,’ she said as calmly as she could, trying to maintain a composure that hid a growing mountain of nervous tension. ‘It is difficult, being a stranger to all this.’ She gestured to the exotic surroundings. ‘Dante has shepherded me around all week. Having him close by will make it easier for me.’
The hand holding hers squeezed approval, making her feel too connected to him again, too aware of him in a way that would not lead to anything good for her. He was her captor, her jailor, and while he probably meant to give her a sense of safety, he kept shaking her up with an attraction she knew was treacherous. Having him in the suite next to hers was not going to make life here easier for her, yet being separated from him was too scary to contemplate.
‘A fine start, Lucia,’ Dante mocked. ‘You’ve had Isabella apologising twice to you in the past ten minutes, making her feel uncomfortable.’
‘I didn’t mean to,’ she flared at him, furious at being out-manoeuvred.
‘Then you can demonstrate a kinder nature by making instant amends.’ He waved her towards one of the wide hallways which ran off from the atrium. ‘I’ll make your excuses to Nonno.’