‘Why? I thought she felt lost. Like no one ever cared enough about her,’ Jenny pleaded. ‘I’m sorry if that’s presumptuous, but—’
‘No. Lucia is very clever at painting the pictures she wants to present. Which is whatever will suit her purpose at the time. Care was certainly lavished on her when she was a little girl, but even then it was in her nature to destroy rather than build something good. She is not a lost child, Bella, more an enfante terrible who enjoys wreaking havoc.’
‘Because she wants more notice taken of her?’ Jenny suggested, still reaching for more understanding of what sounded like psychotic behaviour.
‘To make herself the centre of attention, yes. But not to care about the effect of her actions on anyone else. She has long had a habit of engineering situations that give her a destructive control. I have come to believe this behaviour stems from a personality disorder, perhaps a genetic inheritance from her father who had no conscience at all. I don’t know. I only see how it is. But Lucia is family and I will never again turn my back on family. When I’m gone it will be Dante’s responsibility to look after her, see to her needs as best he can.’
Jenny frowned over what she saw as an extremely strained relationship between the two cousins. ‘Surely her mother should do that.’
‘Oh, I’m sure Lucia will milk the guilt trip she loads on Sophia for all she can, but Dante will hold the reins on how much is given. He knows where to draw the line, and draw it he will with authority that cannot be bucked.’
As he had already done twice since she had been here. But would he be as tolerant as his grandfather when he was left in charge of the family? ‘You trust him with a great deal,’ she said musingly.
‘He has earned my trust a thousand times over. Not once has he ever let me down.’
Nor would he at the end of Marco’s life, Jenny thought, feeling more sympathetic towards the deception Dante had enforced. His grandfather had sent him on an impossible mission and she had been the answer to it.
‘I think it must be very rare…what you and Dante share,’ she said in wry appreciation.
‘Yes. As rare as finding the love of a good woman. I have been fortunate with my wife and my grandson. And I’m glad he found you, my dear, and brought you home with him.’
Embarrassed by the linkage to people who were truly dear to Marco, Jenny muttered, ‘I had to come. But please don’t feel you have to do something for me. Just being here is enough.’
‘I hope it will be.’
His smile was so benevolent, Jenny wished she was his grand-daughter. It would be so nice to belong to him.
‘Thank you for the portraits, my dear. And don’t let Lucia spoil your stay here. Dante will keep you company when I can’t. Trust him to deal with any situation that arises. Will you do that?’
She nodded, acutely aware there was too much family history she didn’t know.
He waved a dismissal. ‘Time for me to retire. Will you tell Theresa I’m ready to go?’
‘Of course. I hope you have a good rest.’
Having taken her leave of Marco, she strolled along the cliff walkway which would take her to her suite, looking out at the deep blue sea and thinking over all he had told her. Patterns of behaviour did reveal the person. Lucia only wanted Marco’s attention when he was giving it to others. ‘Bella’ wasn’t taking up what could have been her time with him. Lucia only wanted it to take it away from Bella. Or Dante. Not to use it for anything that might be good and meaningful.
Don’t let her spoil your stay here.
I won’t, Jenny resolved.
Which left only Dante weighing on her mind—Dante, whom she now saw waiting for her outside her suite—Dante, propped casually against the stone wall, watching her with a dark intensity that sent little quivers through her entire body.
Her feet faltered to a halt.
She burned with embarrassment, remembering the ‘romantic’ portrait. Love had nothing to do with what he’d done with her last night. He wanted to keep her here for his grandfather, by any means—a ruthless manipulator. Her head told her that, but her heart…her heart was drowning in a deep blue sea, beating against conflicting waves of emotion that could not be held at bay.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
DANTE saw her leisurely stroll along the walkway come to an abrupt halt when she caught sight of him waiting for her. The pensive look on her face instantly changed—a self-conscious flush bursting onto her cheeks, a tense defensiveness in the sharp tilt of her chin, wariness in the eyes that met his—and he knew without a doubt that she had exposed her heart in the portrait of him. In both portraits, but the one of Lucia did not concern him so personally.
His conscience had been pricking him from the moment he took in what she had drawn. It wasn’t the man he’d been to her. If she’d portrayed what she wanted him to be, he’d taken too many liberties with the person she was, been blindly selfish in going after what he wanted, not giving any thought to how his actions would affect her, except in so far as they achieved his purpose.
His sense of righteousness over using her had received one hell of a hard knock. He’d known she was vulnerable, and he’d exploited her vulnerability, telling himself the end justified the means. He’d overlooked the fact that she had been an abandoned child whose need to be loved and cherished had never been answered. It had only been sex to him last night, but if she had fantasised love, she could end up deeply hurt by her connection to him.
This wasn’t a woman he could kiss off with some lavish gift when the mutual pleasure wore thin. He knew she would be insulted, mortally offended, believing he truly had used her as his ‘secret little whore.’ Jenny Kent was essentially a good person, not wanting to do harm to anyone. It was in her every word, every action. He’d known it last night. She was a giver, not a user.
He shouldn’t keep taking from her.
Yet he couldn’t bring himself to tell his grandfather the truth—that Bella was dead and he’d brought Jenny Kent in her place to ease the guilt and pain over his lost son. Nonno wanted her here. He liked her. It was helping him get through this bad time.
Apart from which, Dante wanted Jenny Kent to stay for himself. Desire for her was burning through his body right now, urging him to dismiss his concern over how deeply she was responding to him. He wasn’t forcing her to have sex with him. It was her choice. She had made that clear to him last night. Her choice…