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personally to protect Jemima. Giorgio looked after him with a frown, uneasy all over again, that he didn't know the full story here. 
    The face looking back at him from the canvas gave him pause for thought. Brown eyes the same color as Jemima's were looking back at him. The brown hair she had drawn, he knew to be streaked with grey now, the grooves round the full mouth deeper. The man she had drawn was a good twenty years younger than the man he knew now.
    She jumped at his carefully controlled question.  "Who is that, cara?"
    Tear-stained eyes fastened on his, and she shook her head. "I don't know. He just seems important to me, somehow. Oh God, this is so frustrating. Why can I not remember?" Her voice rose; her slender arms hugged herself, and color rose in her cheeks.
    "I can't remember the things that I need to, and I'm trying, Giorgio, really, I am. I know I need to remember, to help you, to help me, but, God, I just can't. Now, this, this useless face from my past."
    In her anger she kicked her art supplies box. It went flying, and Giorgio's next words died on his tongue at the little glint of gold caught in the midday sun, rolling between them.
    Jemima's anguished gasp cut through the frost around his heart, when he bent to pick up his mother's engagement ring. His fist closed around it in a white-knuckled grip, and he swore when her trembling one settled over his.
    "I thought you'd sold this." He cleared his throat, and her grasp on his hand tightened.
    "I couldn't do that to you as well. I know how important that ring was to you. I remember I hid it in here, because you were so angry, and, and I thought you'd find it in here."
    The halting words carried with them a wealth of despair, and she put up no resistance when he grabbed her hair and pulled her head up, so that he could study her face. She flinched slightly at the harsh move, and tears rose in her eyes. He gentled his grip on her when he couldn't read an ounce of malice in her face. Like an open book, it showed every one of her emotions, and he let her go and stepped away from her. He didn't trust himself to not simply crush her to him. As it was, his cock throbbed its willingness, and he wanted nothing more than throw caution to the wind and make her his, again. She felt it, too, this primal connection between them. It was there in the way her eyes darkened, her breath hitched, and her heartbeat galloped, clearly visible at the pulse point in her neck. Whatever was and had been wrong between them, they'd always had this, but sexual attraction didn't make for a lasting marriage, no matter how explosive the sex was. Trust and mutual respect did that, and he didn't trust Jemima, not one little bit.
    "Good. That means less expense of buying you a new one. I want you looking the part when we meet the Don."
    He turned away from her and forced himself to keep walking, even though the sound of her crying almost brought him to his knees.
    "He's the one that wants me dead, right, so why not just kill me now and get it over with?" Her eyes widened in dismay when he spun round. He was on top of her in seconds, crushing her mouth under his, his hands in her hair, the ring once again rolling along the ground. She trembled against him, and he deepened the kiss, putting all the emotions he couldn't name into the kiss, until his lungs were bursting and he came up for air.
    She whimpered and clung to him, and it took every ounce of self-control he possessed to set her away from him again.
    "No one is going to kill you, while you're under my protection. But I warn you, you cross me again, and I will personally pull the trigger."
     
     

Chapter Six
     
    Jemima nervously twisted the heavy engagement ring 'round her finger. It looked beautiful next to the wide platinum band Giorgio had also given her. His expression had been unreadable, but he'd insisted on placing the rings on her fingers himself. The warmth of his hand had heated her frozen digits, and he'd simply stood