The Sicilian's Unexpected Duty(5)

                ‘So now it’s my fault?’ she demanded, hands on hips.

                Cara had to be one of the shortest people he’d ever met, certainly on a par with his great-aunt Magdalena. In the four months since he’d last seen her, she’d lost weight, making her seem more doll-like than he remembered. Yet, whether it was the long flaming hair or the ferocity blazing from her eyes, she stood tall and unapologetic before him, as if a tank would not be enough to knock her down.

                He bit back another oath. ‘What’s done is done. I’ve apologised and as far as I’m concerned that’s the end of the matter. It’s been four months. I suggest you forget about it and move on.’

                With that, he stalked away, striding towards Luca and Grace, ready to tell them he was leaving.

                ‘Actually, it’s not the end of the matter.’

                Something in the tone of her voice made him pause.

                ‘It’s impossible for me to “forget about it and move on”.’

                A shiver of something that could be interpreted as fear crawled up his spine...

                * * *

                Cara watched Pepe’s back tense and all the muscles beneath his crisp pink shirt bunch together.

                Only Pepe could get away with a pink linen shirt, unbuttoned at the neck, and snug-fitting navy chinos for his own niece’s christening. The shirt wasn’t even tucked in! Yet he still oozed masculinity. If she could, she’d rip all the testosterone from him—and there must be buckets of it—and flush it down the toilet. Standing next to him in the church, she had been acutely aware of how overdressed she looked in comparison, and had fumed at the unfairness of it all—he was the one underdressed for the occasion. With his long Roman nose, high cheekbones, trim black goatee covering his strong chin and his ebony hair quiffed at the front, Pepe looked as if he’d stepped off a catwalk.

                She’d truly thought she’d been prepared. In her head she’d had everything planned out. She would be calm. She would politely ask for five minutes of his time, explain the situation and tell him what she wanted. Above all else, she would be calm.

                Under no circumstances would she let him know of her devastation when she’d awoken alone in his hotel suite, or her terror when the stick in her hand had turned pink.

                She would be calm.

                All her good intentions had been thrown by the wayside when she’d taken one look at his handsome face and wanted to knock his perfect white teeth out.

                The whole time she’d been next to him at the christening, even while they were making their respective promises as Lily’s godparents, all she could think was how much she wanted to cause him bodily harm. She’d even found herself gazing at the silver scar that ran down his cheek, wishing she could track the culprit down and shake his hand. Or her hand. She’d asked Pepe about the scar during their weekend together but he’d evaded the question with his customary ease. She hadn’t pushed the matter but it had tugged at her. All she’d wanted to do was trace a finger down it and make it magically disappear.

                Who, she’d wondered, could have hated him enough to do such a thing? Pepe was charm personified. Everyone adored him. Or so she’d thought.

                Now it wouldn’t surprise her in the least to discover a queue of people wishing to perform bodily harm on him.

                The violence of her thoughts and emotions shocked her. She was a pacifist. She’d attended anti-war demos, for cripes’ sake!