‘Your cousin, Lucia,’ Dante murmured as he took Jenny’s arm, holding her steady for the high step down from the helicopter.
Jenny had already mentally identified her. Due to the shopping experience with Dante in Paris, she instantly recognised French chic. Lucia Rossini personified it: short black hair artfully cut in an asymmetrical bob; a gorgeous scarlet-and-white dress that skimmed her slim, petite figure; elegant white sandals with intricate straps around her ankles. She also carried herself with the same arrogant confidence that Jenny now associated with great wealth.
Without Dante’s intervention in dolling her up, she would have felt like dirt beneath the other woman’s feet. The style he’d chosen for her was very different, but it had more than enough unique class to make Lucia look quite miffed as she eyed her newly arrived cousin. It made her wary as Dante moved her forward for introductions.
‘Lucia, how sweet of you to welcome Isabella so eagerly!’ he drawled, his lightly mocking tone putting Jenny even more on guard.
‘Well, naturally I’m curious about a cousin I’ve never known, Dante,’ she tossed back at him, a flash of venom in her dark eyes.
Certainly no love lost between these two, Jenny thought.
‘You’ve had her to yourself for a whole week. Now it’s my turn,’ Lucia said, re-arranging her expression into a smile which didn’t quite reach her eyes. ‘Welcome to Capri, Isabella. I aim to make you feel at home here very quickly.’
She stepped forward, put her hands on Jenny’s shoulders and air-kissed both cheeks. Jenny instinctively reared back, not used to people invading her personal space and not liking the over-familiarity, particularly since she felt no warmth coming from this cousin.
‘Thank you,’ she muttered. ‘Very kind.’
‘Isabella is Australian, Lucia,’ Dante dryly reminded her. ‘She’s not accustomed to the Italian style of greeting. A hand-shake is more their style.’
‘Oh! How stand-offish!’ Lucia shrugged. ‘I thought Australians were known for their open friendliness.’
Jenny flushed at the implied criticism. ‘I’m sorry. I guess I’m feeling a bit strange at the moment. All this is very new to me.’
‘Well, you’ll have to learn to be Italian, too, if you want to fit into this family.’
The sheer arrogance of that statement stung Jenny’s deep resentment at being forced into this situation. ‘Maybe I won’t want to fit in.’ The words were out in a flash and she didn’t regret them. In fact, it gave her a fine satisfaction to see Lucia’s eyebrows shoot up in unplanned astonishment, as though being in the Rossini family was the most desirable thing in the world. It wasn’t, as far as Jenny was concerned. ‘I didn’t ask to come here,’ she added for good measure.
Lucia turned an arch look to Dante, her eyes glinting with malicious glee. ‘This must be a first for you,’ she drawled, ‘running into resistance from a woman, not having her falling on her knees to please you. Nonno should have sent me to collect Isabella. I would have done a better job of it.’
‘I doubt your brand of sly sniping would have achieved anything,’ he replied sardonically. ‘But then you wouldn’t have wanted to, would you, Lucia? Isabella is too much a wild card for your liking, coming in at the death, so to speak.’
‘Oh!’ She feigned hurt shock. ‘That’s such a mean thing to say! Don’t take any notice of him, Isabella.’ A cajoling smile was directed at her. ‘That’s just a payback for being teased about his famous charm. I’m delighted that you’re here for Nonno.’ She waved an open invitation. ‘Now do let’s go up to the villa. It’s so hot out here.’
Jenny glanced back at the helicopter, wishing she had never set foot in this place.
‘Pierro will bring in our luggage,’ Dante quickly assured her, taking her hand again, pressing it hard to remind her there was no escape, not until he allowed it, and that would be no time soon.
She hated him in that moment, hated having no choice, hated being thrust into such foreign territory, hostile territory if Lucia’s attitude was anything to go by.
Capri was supposed to be a romantic place, a paradise for lovers. As they moved from the open heat to the shade of a colonnaded walkway, Jenny couldn’t help thinking there was at least one serpent in this Eden.
How many more would she have to meet?
She was imprisoned on this island as surely as she would have been in a women’s jail, having to work out how to deal with the other inmates and survive. The luxury of it was supposed to sweeten her term here, but wasn’t there a saying—wealth is the root of all evil?
She yearned for her own simple life.
And hated Dante for forcing her into his.
CHAPTER SIX
THE colonnaded walkway was beautiful, shaded by pine trees and masses of brilliant bougainvillea. Jenny could imagine a Roman emperor with a string of courtiers strolling along it, sandals slapping on the flagstones. She wondered if Marco Rossini presided over his family like an emperor, parcelling out power to those who pleased him. Like Dante.
‘I’ve had the blue suite in the guest wing made ready for you,’ Lucia cooed at her. ‘I’m sure you’ll enjoy staying there. It has a lovely view of…’
‘I don’t think so,’ Dante cut in with an air of haughty command. ‘Isabella will feel much more comfortable in the suite adjoining mine. Makes it easier for her to come to me if she has a problem. I did promise her my protection on this journey.’
It was the first Jenny had heard of his promised protection, but she didn’t contradict him, thinking she might need it if Lucia was planning to sink her snaky fangs into her. Putting her in the guest wing, away from the puppeteer’s support, was probably a ploy to make her more accessible to hostile action, as well as making her feel like an outsider, which she was, but she wasn’t supposed to be.
‘But Isabella is safely here,’ Lucia argued. ‘What possible problem could she have now?’
‘Do as I say, Lucia.’ No moving him on that point.
‘It can’t be done,’ she said with a much put-upon sigh and a smug look at Dante. ‘Anya Michaelson is already in the suite adjoining yours. Which is where you wanted her on previous visits.’
Dante’s grip on Jenny’s hand tightened, revealing a rise in tension. She glanced at his face. Displeasure was written all over it. ‘Anya came here uninvited?’ he bit out in cold anger.