His Forbidden Conquest. Kate Hardy

as she pirouetted before him on her skates.

      She nodded. ‘My grandparents used to take me here when I was small. I guess it’s like riding a bike or swimming—once you can do it, you don’t forget.’

      He fell over twice; she didn’t laugh, just held her hand out to him to help him to his feet again and smiled encouragement at him. But by the end of their session he was skating with her, as carefree as she was and enjoying every second of it.

      Two hours turned into four. Because it would’ve been rude not to take her out to lunch, afterwards, at one of the little caffès overlooking the sea. But when they finally got back to his office, he held her close. ‘Thank you.’

      ‘What for?’

      ‘Mentoring me.’ He gave her a lopsided smile. ‘In having fun. Because I did.’

      ‘My pleasure.’

      He could see in her eyes that it wasn’t just a pleasantry; she absolutely glowed with the knowledge that she’d given him something special.

      ‘I’d, um, better let you get on,’ she said.

      ‘Yeah.’ Funny how work didn’t seem quite as important as it usually did. Which should worry him. He couldn’t afford to lose his focus. ‘I’ll call you later. And I’ll see you on Wednesday for mentoring.’ If he could stay away from her for that long.

      He managed it. Just. Though there were several texts between them, and a phone conversation that really heated Dante’s blood.

      But on Wednesday, when he arrived at Carenza’s office, he saw that her eyes were red and her face was blotchy from crying.

      It was the one thing he really couldn’t bear, seeing a woman cry. Not the fake tears of a woman who wanted to get her own way—he knew that Carenza was more likely to ask outright than to cry pretty little tears designed to make someone change their mind—but real pain and despair. He’d seen too much of it in his life, and it never got any easier. He still couldn’t deal with it.

      He wrapped his arms round her and held her close. ‘What’s happened?’

      ‘I’m sorry. I should’ve cancelled. I can’t think straight enough for business, tonight.’

      ‘Doesn’t matter. What’s wrong, Caz?’

      She was shivering. ‘My grandparents.’

      He remembered what she’d told him about her grandfather’s heart problems. ‘Gino’s ill?’

      She shook her head. ‘My English grandparents.’

      ‘They’re ill?’

      ‘No. They sent me some files.’ She was clearly trying to hold back the tears, but a sob escaped. ‘They’d been clearing the attic and found some cine films everyone had forgotten about.’

      ‘Of your parents?’

      She nodded. ‘They were taken when I was two and my parents took me to Cornwall. My grandparents had it transferred to digital media and they emailed it over today.’ She stepped back out of his arms and gestured to the computer screen. ‘I put a copy on a DVD for Nonno and Nonna. But I watched it first, and it just—it just …’ Her words were choked off on a sob. ‘How much I’ve lost.’ Her voice was a hoarse whisper. ‘I mean, I love Nonna and Nonno. They’ve done so much for me, and I couldn’t have asked for anyone better to bring me up. But it’s not the same as having my mum and dad.’

      ‘How old were your parents when they died?’ he asked gently.

      ‘Mummy was twenty-six and Papa was twenty-eight—the same age I am now. That’s so young to die. And all because of a stupid man who drove too fast on a motorway and … and … and it’s all so senseless. So pointless.’

      She was really, really hurting. And he couldn’t walk away. He wrapped his arms round her again and let her cry, holding her tightly until her sobs had died away.

      ‘You’ve put it on DVD, you said.’ He nuzzled her cheek. ‘Forget business. Let’s go and watch it together.’

      ‘But you hate films.’

      ‘This is different. It’s all about you as a child. And I think right now you need to see it with someone, rather than breaking your heart while you watch it all on your own.’

      Carenza couldn’t believe how thoughtful Dante was being, how tender and how careful of her feelings. For a moment, she wondered if maybe he was actually falling for her, the way she was for him—but no, that was ridiculous. She was just in a state because of all the memories and all the loss coming back to her. Being overemotional, and clutching at straws. He was just being kind, that was all. Being strong. Being Dante.

      In silence, she led him up to her flat. Once she’d set the disc in the player, Dante drew her over to the sofa with him and settled her on his lap, wrapping his arms round her. Right at that moment, she really needed the warmth of his body next to hers. And she really appreciated the fact that he could read her mood so well.

      ‘Your mother was beautiful, so like you,’ he said softly. ‘How old is she there?’

      ‘Twenty-two.’

      ‘She was very young.’

      Carenza nodded. ‘She met my dad at university in Rome. He was doing business studies and she was doing history of art. They fell in love with each other, and then I came along. I wasn’t planned, but that didn’t matter because they loved each other and they loved me. My mum didn’t finish her degree, but Nonna says nobody minded because they had me—and she stayed in Italy because she wanted to be with my dad.’

      ‘They look really happy together.’

      He sounded wistful—or was that just her imagination? Right at that moment, she couldn’t trust anything she was feeling.

      ‘They were.’ She dragged in a breath. ‘When I went to England, my grandparents said it was like seeing my mum’s ghost. I mean, Nonna always sent them school photographs and what have you, but it wasn’t the same as actually seeing me.’ She rubbed away the tears. ‘My birthday last year was a nightmare. Turning twenty-seven made me older than my mum was when she died.’

      ‘Tough to deal with,’ he said.

      ‘I went off the rails a bit,’ she confessed. ‘You know about that.’

      ‘Not everything.’ He stroked her hair. ‘You took drugs?’

      She shook her head emphatically. ‘Absolutely not. It’s never appealed to me—especially after seeing the mess a couple of my friends were in before their family got them into rehab. No, I just partied a lot, danced until three in the morning, drank too much champagne, and went out for smoked salmon and scrambled egg breakfasts. I suppose I wanted to celebrate life, go over the top to prove to myself that I was still here.’ She sniffed. ‘And I should probably tell you that I slept with way too many men.’

      ‘I already knew that.’ Though there was no condemnation in his voice. ‘And now I know why.’ He shrugged. ‘I guess I would’ve reacted the same way.’

      Her chest felt tight. ‘That’s the other reason I haven’t dated for the last year—because I wanted to get my self-respect back.’

      ‘And have you?’ His voice was gentle.

      ‘I don’t know.’

      He kissed her lightly. ‘Your parents would be very proud of the woman you’ve become, Caz.’

      The lump in her throat was so huge, she could barely get the words past it. ‘You think so?’

      ‘I know so,’ he said softly. ‘I look at what you’ve done over the last month or so, and I’m proud of you.’

      It wasn’t just the words; it was his tone. He meant it. It was too much for her, and she ended up bawling