‘Time to go,’ he said.
And Jenny went with him, once more a slave to his command, tugged along by his hand while her mind, which he couldn’t completely dominate, was in a helpless whirl over the shocking realisation of finding herself actually wanting him to want her as a woman.
This situation was playing some weird sexual havoc on her. She’d been almost constantly in his company for a week, compelled into his world, and she supposed it was natural enough to have her normal, sensible self seduced by how beautiful and powerful and masterful he was—the kind of man that featured in foolish, romantic dreams, turning a Cinderella into a princess.
But this prince was not being driven by any desire for her.
She knew that.
He was determined on making his plan work, nothing more, nothing less.
It had to be these extraordinary circumstances causing her to be affected like this. They were thrown together by a conspiracy that probably bred a sense of closeness—a very temporary sense, she sternly reminded herself. When Dante no longer had any need for her co-operation, he’d cast her off as quickly and as ruthlessly as he’d picked her up.
To allow any attachment to him to develop was sheer stupidity. She had to keep remembering that Jenny Kent was not and would never be a person of serious interest to Dante Rossini. All he wanted of her was a brief impersonation of his cousin. If she played that role well enough, she’d be free to go at the end of it. That was what she had to aim for. Feeling swamped by this man’s magnetic attraction could only create a problem for her and she had problems enough.
So don’t go there.
Ever.
Dante was sharply aware of steel sliding into Jenny Kent’s backbone as he walked her down to the car that would take them to the heliport. She held her head high, straightened her shoulders and adopted an aloof air, ignoring the fact that he was still holding her hand. He briefly wondered if the idea of having some blackmail power over him was inspiring the change. Or was she simply taking courage from his assurances?
For the most part, she’d given him passive obedience since he’d forced her to take on the role of Isabella. The only rebellion she’d staged was her refusal to talk about her own life, flatly telling him he didn’t need to know. He wanted her to be Isabella and that was his only claim on her.
Oddly enough, it wasn’t easy to shrug off his curiosity about Jenny Kent, probably because most of the women he met were only too eager to tell him about themselves, courting his interest, wanting him to know them. Of course, none of them had been an unwilling captive in his company, but he was willing to bet that a week of being pampered with luxury, beautified, outfitted with ‘fine feathers’ would normally thaw any resistance they might have to giving him whatever he wanted.
Not his manufactured cousin.
She didn’t even speak unless spoken to. She soaked up what he told her about the Rossini family and offered nothing about herself. He wished there’d been time to have Jenny Kent investigated. He was taking a risk in trusting her to fulfil the role he’d insisted upon, trusting her fear of the alternative. His gut instinct told him she would deliver, which was all he should care about, yet it was definitely tantalising that she held herself so rigidly apart from any personal connection to him.
It gave him a perverse kind of pleasure to take possession of her hand. The urge to break her passivity kept niggling at him. But she didn’t fight the contact, didn’t respond to it in any way, just waited until he released it when she was stepping into the car, then sat with both her hands linked on her lap—a pointed picture of self-containment.
She did not so much as glance his way on the drive to the heliport, staring out the side window, apparently immersed in the sights and sounds of the streets they travelled. Dante felt himself challenged by her silence, by her stubborn determination to ignore him.
‘What do you think of Rome?’ he asked.
‘It doesn’t matter what I think,’ she said dismissively, still not turning her head towards him.
‘Nonno will ask. You might as well practice a reply.’
‘Then I’d sound rehearsed. Better that I don’t.’
‘I’ve been rehearsing you all week. Why stop now?’
‘Because time’s up. I’m about to go on stage and stuffing any more into my head at this point will only make me more anxious about my performance.’
It was a fair argument so he let his frustration with her slide. Whoever Jenny Kent was, she was far from stupid. Not only did she have street smarts, but also quite an impressive natural intelligence, making his task of coaching her into meeting any expectation of Isabella a relatively easy one. Her life experience was obviously a far cry from his, yet he was confident she could now fit in to the family without feeling too much like a fish out of water.
In fact, she wouldn’t just fit in, she’d shine. He’d been right about how she could look. Nonno was going to be proud to own her as his grand-daughter. She was beautiful. Quite enticingly beautiful. But he couldn’t afford to think of her like that. Nonno might see it in his eyes. Just one slip—revealing that she stirred a devilish desire in him—and the deception might unravel.
They arrived at the heliport. As Dante escorted his newly found cousin across the tarmac he watched his pilot’s reaction to her. Pierro was standing by the opened door of the helicopter, waiting to greet them and help them to their seats. He’d seen Dante with many beautiful women in tow. ‘Isabella’ lit up his eyes with a look that said ‘Wow! Knockout!’ in no uncertain terms.
Pierro couldn’t do enough for her, fussing over getting her comfortably settled in the helicopter. It won him a smile and sweetly appreciative words, neither of which had come Dante’s way all week. It was absurd to feel a twinge of jealousy, but damn it! He’d done a hell of a lot for her and she was barely civil to him.
You’ve done it to her, not for her, he reminded himself, but he was still piqued that with him she wrapped herself in a cool dignity he couldn’t penetrate. But he would. It was only a matter of time, and he’d make sure he had plenty of that with her while she was on Capri.
They landed at the villa just before noon.
Lucia, of course, was hot to meet her Australian cousin and size her up, actually coming down to the helipad instead of waiting in the shade of the colonnaded walkway. Dante felt the rush of adrenaline that always fired him up for critical meetings.
Game on! he thought, and hoped ‘Isabella’ was up to it.