carried her out she’d whispered into her fur, ‘I don’t blame you, sweetheart. I know how it feels.’
Hero would lick her face, as if in commiseration for the fact that they were both in thrall to Ciro Sant’Angelo.
Lara absently stroked Hero and she lay down at her feet, curling up trustingly. She said to Ciro, ‘Thank you for letting me keep her.’
Ciro shrugged, and then he looked at his watch. ‘You wanted to visit the Guggenheim Museum, didn’t you?’
Lara nodded, surprised he’d remembered her saying that the other night at a function.
‘I can take the afternoon off—we’ll go after lunch.’
Lara felt a dangerous fluttering in her belly and said, ‘Oh, it’s okay...you don’t have to. I can go by myself—’
‘Don’t you want me to come with you?’
Lara could feel her face grow hot. This teasing, relaxed Ciro was so reminiscent of how he’d been before that it was painful. ‘Of course I’d love to see it with you.’
Ciro stood up. ‘Va bene. I’ve a few calls to make—we’ll leave in an hour.’
Lara watched him leave, striding off the terrace back into the house. She took a deep breath—anything to try and get oxygen to her brain and keep herself from imagining impossible things.
Like the fact that Ciro might actually be learning to like her again...
* * *
The following day Ciro watched Lara play on the lawn with the puppy from the window in his study. She was wearing shorts and her long slim legs had taken on a light golden glow. She wore a silk cropped top and he could see tantalising slivers of her belly when it rode up as she moved.
He might have cursed her for trying to tempt him, but he knew she wasn’t even aware that he’d come home early. Home early. Since when had he started to come home early? Or work from home? Or take afternoons off to go to a museum? The only person who’d ever had that effect on him was on her back, laughing as the puppy climbed all over her, yapping excitedly.
There was a bone-deep sense of satisfaction in his body from night after night of mind-blowing sex. He’d stopped sending Lara back to her own bed. She effectively shared his room now—something he’d never done with another woman, far too wary of inviting an intimacy that would be misread, or taken advantage of.
And they’d spent hours wandering around the Guggenheim the day before. It had been one of the most pleasant afternoons Ciro could remember in a long time.
As he looked at Lara now he had to acknowledge that his desire for her wasn’t waning. Far from it. It seemed to be intensifying. But if he stuck to his agreement with her they’d be divorcing—at the earliest in only a few months. That thought sent something not unlike panic into his gut.
So far she’d fulfilled her side of the marriage, and introduced him to people who would never have welcomed him into their sphere before. He had a list of new deals to consider. Invitations to events and places he’d never been allowed access to before. All because of her.
But in truth, he found it hard to focus on that when she filled his vision and he spent most days reliving the night before and anticipating the night ahead.
She was not what he’d expected. More like the Lara he’d known first. And if this was an elaborate act, then what was the point? He couldn’t figure it out, but something wasn’t matching up...
At that moment his phone rang and he answered it impatiently, only half listening as he watched Lara throwing a ball for the puppy.
He turned away from the view, though, after his solicitor had finished speaking. ‘Repeat what you just said.’
‘I said that we know who was behind the kidnapping, Ciro, and I don’t think you’re going to like what you hear.’
* * *
The sun was throwing long shadows on the grass by the time Lara picked up Hero and went back inside the house. All was quiet except for the dull hum of Manhattan traffic outside.
But then she heard a sound coming from the main reception room, and put Hero down in her bed before investigating. She walked in to find Ciro throwing back a shot of alcohol. Predictably, her heart rate increased.
‘I didn’t know you were home.’
Her heart fluttered at the thought that maybe he’d come back early to take her on another excursion. But when he turned around she had to stifle a gasp. He was pale, and she realised he was pale with fury, because his eyes were burning.
‘What is it? What’s wrong?’
Ciro put the empty glass back on the tray with exaggerated care and then he looked back at Lara. She had only the faintest prickling sense of foreboding before he said, ‘So, when were you going to tell me that you and your uncle were behind the kidnap plot?’
Lara’s insides turned to ice. ‘How do you know about that?’
‘I’ve been investigating the kidnap since it happened. I kept hitting dead ends until now. Is it true?’
Lara felt sick. She nodded her head slowly.
Not exactly, but... ‘Yes. My uncle planned it. He didn’t want us to marry.’
Ciro’s lip curled. ‘And so he came up with a lurid plan to have us kidnapped? Or was that your contribution?’
Lara shook her head. She felt as if she was drowning, and moved sluggishly over to a chair where she sat down. ‘I didn’t know anything about it...not until after.’
Ciro looked at Lara. He couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe that after everything he’d been through with this woman she had done it again. The emotion he felt transcended anger. He was icy cold with it. Far worse than heat and rage.
He could feel the livid line of his scar. The phantom throbbing of his little finger. He wanted to go over and haul Lara up to stand. She looked pathetically, unbelievably shocked.
‘I want to know everything. Now.’
He saw her swallow. She was so pale he almost felt the sting of his conscience but he ruthlessly pushed it down. This woman was the worst kind of chameleon. And potentially a criminal.
‘I was forced to marry Henry Winterborne. By my uncle.’
Ciro shook his head. ‘That’s ridiculous.’
‘I wish it was. My uncle was obsessed with status and lineage. There was no way he was going to allow me to marry you. But it went much further than that.’
Ciro said nothing. He saw Lara clasp her hands together and in that moment had a flashback to how her hands had felt on his buttocks only hours before, squeezing him, huskily begging him for more.
He gritted out, ‘Keep going.’
‘My uncle was in debt. Serious debt. Millions and millions of pounds. He’d run through his fortune—and my trust fund. I was his only hope of saving his reputation and clearing the debt. He’d had us followed from the moment I mentioned you to him. He knew we were serious.’
Ciro said nothing so Lara continued.
‘He knew that I was sheltered...not experienced. He was fairly certain we hadn’t...’
Remarkably, colour stained her cheeks, and it made Ciro feel so many conflicting things that he decided to focus on the anger.
‘Save your blushes, cara. This really is the most intriguing story.’
Lara’s mouth tightened for a moment, but then she said, ‘He sold me—like a slave girl at an auction. To Henry Winterborne, the highest bidder.’
Ciro struggled to take this in. It was such a far-fetched story. He decided to see how far Lara