The Italian's Final Redemption - Jackie Ashenden Page 0,25

eyes of other women who’d stared at him just like this one.

She was attracted to him, it was clear.

Perhaps you could use that to your advantage?

The thought streaked through his brain, bright and clear as a comet at midnight, but he dismissed it almost as soon as it had occurred to him. Those were his mother’s tactics and he would never stoop to using those. Just as he would never indulge himself with her. Seduction was not and would never be one of his weapons. He was better than that. He had to be.

He turned away, ignoring the tight feeling in his body as he headed back to his chair. She was still staring at him, a bewildered look on her face.

It occurred to him, as he sat, that the slipping of her robe might have been purposeful, but one look at her expression told him it hadn’t. She seemed to have no guile at all, which was definitely a rarity in a criminal.

‘Why did you do that?’ she asked, her voice slightly husky.

He ignored her. ‘I have ordered clothing for you. It should arrive tomorrow. In the meantime you can continue to wear that robe.’

She frowned and he thought she might push, since he hadn’t answered her question, but she didn’t. Instead, she reached for the bread she’d been going to have before he’d interrupted her.

So, she was uncertain about this...chemistry between them, was she? It certainly seemed that way. She’d had no trouble speaking about other subjects, but she didn’t want to push him on this. Interesting. Perhaps she was inexperienced. He wouldn’t be surprised, given how her father had kept her prisoner.

‘Why are you doing this?’ she asked after a moment, small fingers tearing apart the piece of bread. ‘With the candles and the food. This beautiful house.’

‘What do you mean?’ He reached for his wine and picked up the glass, swirling the liquid around inside it.

That deep crease between her brows was back. ‘I’m a prisoner. A criminal. Yet there are candles on the table.’

‘I did tell you that you wouldn’t have a cell.’ He leaned back in his chair, sipping his wine, letting the flavour warm him, since nothing else did much these days; justice was a cold mistress. ‘The candles were Martina’s idea.’ They were not. They were his. He’d been concerned about the incipient darkness and wanted her to have some light, because he didn’t want a repeat of her panic attack, that was all. But he didn’t want to tell her that. It felt like giving away an advantage. ‘You don’t like them?’

‘Oh, no, they’re lovely. I just...’ She stopped. Then lifted a shoulder as if the subject was one she’d lost interest in, and began layering some of the dip onto her bread with a knife. ‘This smells very good,’ she offered after a moment. ‘I’m quite hungry.’

‘That is obvious,’ he observed dryly as she ate the piece of bread with small, precise bites then proceeded to get herself another. ‘Are you ready to give me some information yet?’

She ate the other piece of bread then picked up her wine glass and took a sip. ‘Is that why there are candles and nice food? You’re hoping to bribe me into giving you what you want early?’

Irritation gathered inside him. It was true. He had promised a week. ‘No,’ he said shortly, even though he had a suspicion that was a lie as well. ‘The candles and food are an added bonus. I do not bribe anyone, nor do I manipulate. You will give me what I want because I ask for it. Because we have made a bargain.’

She sipped again at her wine, frowning at him from behind the thick lenses of her glasses. ‘Why is taking down my father so important to you? Did he do something to someone you know?’

‘He’s a criminal who has hurt others. He’s a murderer, civetta, in case you didn’t know. That’s all the reason I need.’

An expression he couldn’t read flickered over her face. ‘Oh, I know what he is, believe me. But is it him in particular? Or merely the fact that he’s a criminal?’ She regarded him curiously. ‘Why don’t you let the police deal with it?’

Was she really expecting him to tell her his reasons? To justify himself to someone like her? She’d be waiting a long time in that case, because he did not have to explain himself to anyone. Rumours followed him, naturally enough, but he didn’t concern himself