man, or you’re a cross-dresser.’
For a few seconds Drago could think of nothing to say in response to her startling statement, but then his lips twitched and he threw back his head and laughed. ‘I promise you I don’t have a penchant for dressing up in women’s clothes and stiletto heels.’
He watched Jess’s mouth curve into a smile and realised she had been teasing him. It was a novelty. He was not used to women with a sense of humour; most of the women he knew took themselves far too seriously. It felt strange to laugh, he mused. Even before Angelo’s accident there had rarely seemed anything to laugh about recently. The responsibility of running a business empire and taking care of his family weighed heavily on him. Although he made time to play squash and work out in his private gym, and he enjoyed an active sex life with numerous mistresses, his life was dictated by work and duty and he could not remember the last time anyone had made him smile.
‘The clothes are from the Cassa di Cassari collection,’ he explained. ‘Clothing is a new venture that the company is expanding into, and we have employed the top Italian fashion designer Torre Umberto. The new line won’t be available in the shops until next month, but Torre has sent some samples over for you to wear.’
His phone rang, breaking the curious connection he had briefly felt with Jess. He headed a global business empire which demanded his constant attention. He was distracted enough, worrying about his cousin, and he definitely did not have time to be distracted by a sassy redhead whose sweet smile made his guts ache, Drago reminded himself.
‘When you’re ready, the maid will show you the way to the dining room,’ he told her abruptly before he headed out of the door.
They had been at the hospital for hours, but still Angelo showed no sign of regaining consciousness. Jess stood up from her chair next to the bed, needing to stretch her legs. The small room felt claustrophobic, and although the blind at the window was pulled down the bright sunshine beating against the glass increased the stifling atmosphere.
As she walked over to the water dispenser and filled a plastic cup she was aware of two pairs of eyes following her. Angelo’s mother was no friendlier today than she had been last night and had not spoken a word to her. The poor woman was devastated, Jess reminded herself. But she also knew that the vibes of distrust from Drago’s aunt were due to her belief that Jess had conned her son out of his inheritance fund. When Angelo woke up he was going to have a hell of a lot of explaining to do, she thought heavily.
Dorotea turned her attention back to her son, but Jess was conscious that Drago’s gaze was still focused on her, and she self-consciously ran a hand over the cream jersey-silk skirt that she had discovered, along with a selection of other outfits, in the wardrobe of her room at the Palazzo d’Inverno.
The last time she had worn a skirt had been years ago, on one of the rare occasions when she had attended school, she thought wryly. She lived in jeans or work overalls, and she felt overdressed in the skirt and the delicate white blouse she had teamed with it. The tan leather belt around her waist matched the three-inch stiletto-heeled shoes. The elegant outfit had called for her to try to tame her thick hair, and she had swept it up into a loose knot on top of her head.
Staring at her reflection in the mirror before she had left her bedroom, she had been stunned by the transformation. She had always thought of her body as shapeless and too thin, but the beautifully designed skirt suited her slim figure, and the blouse was cleverly cut so that her small bust looked fuller. For the first time in years—since she was seventeen, in fact, and had worn a new dress to go out to dinner with her boss, Sebastian Loxley—she felt like an attractive woman. The glitter of sexual awareness in Drago’s eyes when she had walked into the dining room at the palazzo had sent a thrill of feminine pride through her. He had not commented on her appearance, but she had been aware of him glancing at her several times as they had eaten breakfast—just as she was aware of him watching her now.
‘I need some air,’ he announced abruptly. The metal feet of his chair scraped loudly on the floor as he stood up. His eyes met Jess’s, but his expression was unreadable. ‘We’ll go and get a coffee. You need a break,’ he insisted when she opened her mouth to argue. ‘You have talked to Angelo and sung to him—’ he glanced briefly at the guitar standing by the bed ‘—almost constantly for four hours.’
‘I came to try to help,’ she replied huskily, feeling herself blush. She had sung a couple of pop ballads that Angelo had taught her to play on the guitar while Drago had gone to make a phone call, and she felt embarrassed that he must have been just outside the door and had heard her.
‘Hopefully he will regain consciousness soon, and if he does it will be no small thanks to you,’ Drago said roughly.
He could not help but be impressed by Jess’s efforts to rouse his cousin. She had barely moved from his bedside since they had arrived at the hospital that morning, and she had talked to him until her throat sounded dry. The question of whether they were lovers returned to taunt him. She had denied it, had said that they were simply friends, but she was so goddamned beautiful and it was easy to believe she had seduced shy, inexperienced Angelo with her sex-kitten sensuality and persuaded him to give her a fortune.
Drago’s jaw clenched. She had taken his breath away when she had joined him for breakfast at the palazzo that morning, dressed in clothes that had drawn his gaze to her slender but shapely figure. The scruffy tomboy had turned into an elegant woman, but beneath her new sophistication he recognised her inherently sensual nature, and his appetite for food had deserted him as he’d fantasised about having hot, hard sex with her on the dining table.
Frowning at the inappropriateness of his thoughts when his cousin was in a critical condition, Drago was unaware of how forbidding he looked as he escorted Jess to the hospital cafeteria. He ordered two coffees and carried them over to the empty table she had found.
She seemed distracted as she added three spoons of sugar to her coffee, prompting him to ask, ‘Is something wrong?’
‘I wish my phone wasn’t at the bottom of the canal,’ she said ruefully. ‘I’d like to call Mike, my foreman, to make sure the job we’ve been working on will be finished on time. Clients hate delays, and it’s important that the company maintains a good reputation.’ Jess pushed a stray tendril of hair back from her face. ‘Do the doctors have any idea of when Angelo might regain consciousness? I want to stay if it is deemed that hearing my voice might help rouse him, but I have a responsibility to my team of decorators in London. If I don’t finalise our next contract they won’t have any work.’
Drago sipped his unsweetened black coffee, relishing the hit of caffeine, and gave her a speculative look. ‘I understand that your decorating business was facing bankruptcy until a few months ago?’
‘How do you know that?’ Her startled expression turned to anger. ‘I suppose the investigator you hired to spy on me told you?’
He did not deny it. ‘I know you paid twenty thousand pounds into the company account to clear its debts and overdraft. I can’t help thinking how remarkably convenient it was that you suddenly acquired a large sum of money just in time to save the business from financial meltdown.’
As his meaning became clear, Jess felt sick. ‘If you think I got the money from Angelo, you’re wrong.’
‘So where did it come from? And perhaps you can also explain how you live in a luxury apartment with a rental value far higher than you could afford on a decorator’s wage.’
Jess was stunned at how much he knew about her personal life, and felt violated by the intrusion.
‘I don’t have to explain anything to you,’ she said angrily. ‘But as a matter of fact the money I used to bail out T&J Decorators was left to me.’
Drago looked disbelieving. ‘You’re saying you received an inheritance? Who from? You told me your alcoholic father spent all his money on drink.’
‘Yeah, he certainly never gave me anything—not even affection,’ Jess said bitterly. ‘Have you any idea what it’s like