The Sicilian's Ruthless Marriage Revenge

Mortimer Carole

‘Not at all.’ Her father was answering Cesare dismissively. ‘But this dinner is in aid of a British charity—and charity begins at home, doesn’t it?’

That sculptured mouth tightened slightly. ‘So the saying goes,’ Cesare Gambrelli acknowledged softly. ‘But you are wrong concerning my nationality, Charles,’ he added. ‘I am Sicilian, not Italian.’

Robin was aware of her father swallowing hard as Cesare Gambrelli silkily supplied this information, at the same time realising there was an increase in her father’s tension at the challenge that could clearly be heard in the other man’s honey-coated voice.

What was going on here? Because it was clear to her that something other than surface conversation was simmering between these two men.

There was a friction, a double meaning to their exchange, that implied they weren’t talking about this charity dinner at all, but something much deeper…

‘My mistake,’ her father murmured in reply to the other man’s comment.

A costly one, as far as Cesare was concerned. Sicilian men were not known for their forgiveness. As Cesare did not forgive the Ingram family for taking his sister from him—for taking Marco’s mother from him.

‘You are enjoying the evening so far, Miss Ingram?’ Cesare deliberately turned his full attention on Robin, knowing by the way her breasts had tautened and hardened against the soft material of her gown, their quick rise and fall as she breathed, that although she was aware of the tension between her father and himself, she was also sexually aware of him.

Good, Cesare noted with inner satisfaction.

He hadn’t completely rethought his plans yet, but he already knew that his plans for revenge were no longer set so rigidly on Charles Ingram. The beautiful Robin Ingram offered a much more enjoyable form of revenge than her father ever could.

‘Yes—thank you,’ she answered huskily, and she lowered long dark lashes over her violet-coloured eyes.

Modestly. Shyly. Almost coyly. And yet Cesare already knew that Robin Ingram was none of those things.

Peter Sheldon, once prompted, had been quite knowledgeable about Robin.

She was twenty-seven—ten years younger than Cesare—but she had been previously married for three years, to a knight’s son, no less, although there were no children from the union. She had returned to using the name Ingram after her divorce a year ago, and had shown no inclination since to repeat the experience—hence Peter’s remark that she was ‘beautiful but unnattainable’.

Enough of a challenge to any red-blooded man, but even more so to one so bent on revenge as Cesare.

‘My friend Peter Sheldon tells me that you were involved in the organisation of tonight’s event, Miss Ingram,’ Cesare drawled evenly. ‘You are to be congratulated.’ He gave an abrupt inclination of his head.

‘Thank you,’ she repeated. ‘But as we haven’t even eaten yet your congratulations may be a little premature,’ she added with a tinkling laugh.

Cesare regarded her consideringly. It had irritated him slightly to learn of her marriage and divorce, although he accepted that at twenty-seven she was hardly likely to still be a virgin. Nevertheless, he was interested to know who had divorced who, and for what reason…

‘Unfortunately I will not be staying for the meal,’ he told her politely, inwardly pleased when her face registered surprise. ‘I have…personal commitments that require me to be elsewhere,’ he explained softly.

‘Really?’ Her voice had sharpened slightly.

Cesare held back a smile as he heard her displeasure at the obvious—and mistaken—assumption she had made about those ‘personal commitments’.

‘Yes, really,’ he confirmed mockingly. ‘But I trust that the rest of the evening will be as successful for you.’

‘I hope so too,’ Robin answered him, annoyed with herself for the way her imagination had gone into overdrive at the mention of Cesare Gambrelli’s personal commitments that required him to be elsewhere.

Though it wasn’t too difficult to imagine what those personal commitments might be.

And it could be of absolutely no interest to her if he was off to spend the rest of the night in bed with a lady-friend!

Could it…?

She hadn’t so much as had dinner with a man since her divorce a year ago, let alone felt herself sexually aroused just looking at one! Yet she was still aware of that tingling in her breasts, of the slight dampness between her thighs, of her hightened sexual awareness that made her conscious of every single thing about Cesare Gambrelli.

A man her father had very firmly warned her to stay away from…

‘I believe it’s time for us to go into the banquet,’ she said, noticing with relief the three hundred or so guests beginning to make their way through to the room where they were to eat and be entertained. ‘It was nice to meet you, Mr Gambrelli,’ she added—for graciousness’ sake, rather than out of any real sincerity.

This man unnerved her. His dark good looks unnerved her. The way he stared at her so intently with those glittering black eyes unnerved her.

Her father’s obvious wariness of Cesare Gambrelli, despite his own success as a wealthy businessman, unnerved her even more!

‘Was it?’ Cesare Gambrelli came back dryly, and his hard mouth curved derisively as he continued to look at her intently. ‘In that case, I must ensure that we meet again, Robin. Soon,’ he emphasised.

Robin swallowed hard, her throat moving convulsively, a nerve pulsing at its base. A movement closely watched by Cesare Gambrelli before he raised hooded lids to once again hold her gaze disconcertingly.

‘Very soon,’ he added softly, before nodding abruptly to her father and striding away on long, powerful legs.

‘I want you to stay away from that man, Robin,’ her father repeated emphatically, a slight pallor beneath his skin.

‘But why—’

‘Just trust me on this, Robin,’ her father interrupted, ‘and please just stay away from him. The man is dangerous. I can’t emphasise that to you strongly enough!’

Echoing the thoughts Robin had about Cesare Gambrelli only minutes ago!