The Sicilian's Mistress (13 page)

‘You are one ignorant pig!' Milly told him, even as he extended a lean hand to help her upright. She pushed his hand away and sat carefully untangling the robes from her legs so that she could rise without assistance and take a step back to impose some distance between them.

Gianni then helpfully extended the harp she had dropped on him. ‘What do you do next?' he asked, lounging back in his imposing chair with an air of sardonic anticipation.

Milly snatched the harp back. ‘If you're hoping I'm about to start stripping, it's not your day! I keep all my clothes on.'

Gianni studied her with even greater amusement. ‘Aren't you supposed to at least
sing
many happy returns?'

At that reminder, Milly stiffened resentfully. ‘I couldn't hold a tune in a bucket.'

‘You…are…priceless.' Gianni savoured her, brilliant eyes fixed like lasers to her expressive face.

Rising from his chair to his full intimidating height, Gianni closed one hand over hers and turned to address their
gaping audience. ‘Check the Health and Safety rules next time you decide to give me a surprise. This particular angel could have sued the pants off us if she'd been hurt!'

‘Let go of my hand,' Milly urged as he carried her across the room with him.

He thrust open the door that led back into the corridor. ‘Was this your last booking?'

‘My only one—'

‘Then I'll take you home.'

‘No thanks.' Pulling free of his hold, Milly hurried back to the cloakroom in which she had earlier changed out of her own clothes.

When she emerged, clad in jeans and a sweater, Gianni was still waiting for her.

‘You're a bit like a dog with a bone, aren't you?'

‘You're very beautiful. Don't act so surprised when I tell you that. It doesn't wash with looks like yours,' Gianni drawled with a cynical smile. ‘I'll take you home. You can get dressed up. We'll go out to dinner.'

‘No, thanks,' she said tautly, annoyed that temptation was flickering when he was so screamingly unsuitable. Dressed up? Dressed up in
what
? Did he think she had a designer wardrobe to fall back on?

‘Why not?'

‘How many reasons do you need?'

‘This is very entertaining. Feel free to speak your mind.'

‘All right. One, you're too slick for me. Two, you look filthy rich. Three, you have to be at least ten years older than me, and I can't imagine that we'd have a single thing in common.'

‘Are you always this…sharp-tongued?'

She picked up on the deliberate hesitation, recognised the coolness that had quenched the vibrancy in his extraordinary eyes and felt herself shrivel up inside, but still she said, ‘No, you bring out the best in me.'

‘Instant loathing?'

She shivered, and then, ashamed of her disturbingly un
familiar need to continually attack him, she decided to be honest. ‘No, I fancied you like mad the minute I laid eyes on you, but it's not something I want to follow up,' she admitted, suddenly finding herself alarmingly short of breath. ‘Bye. Have a nice birthday!'

The following afternoon, Gianni was waiting for her to come home from college. Having tripped over him on the landing, Lisa was bending over backwards to entertain him in Milly's absence.

‘How on earth did you find out where I lived?'

‘Bribed the sleazebag who owns the strippergram agency. He told me your name was Lisa. Then I met Lisa and she explained who you
really
were.' Gianni angled a slanting smile over her—a smile that had megawatt charisma.

‘You shouldn't have come here—'

‘
Dio mio
…what did you expect? You think I'm about to walk in the opposite direction when you're feeling the same way I feel?'

‘Tell me one thing we have in common?' Milly invited.

‘Sex.'

‘When you think of something else, I'll have dinner with you,' Milly told him, hot-cheeked.

Gianni stuck a swift foot in the door she was trying to close on him. ‘Quick tempers.'

‘You are
so
persistent!'

‘OK.' Strong jawline squaring, he shrugged with eye-catching elegance. ‘I'm out of here.'

She let him get as far as the floor below, and then, stabbed by the sudden realisation that she would never see him again, she darted back out to the landing and hung over the banister to call, ‘Just dinner…all right?'

‘What about breakfast?' Gianni asked without hesitation.

‘No chance, but I appreciate you being this honest about your intentions. Honesty is very important to me, even if the truth isn't always welcome. So I should tell you now that I'm not into casual sex and I'm very romantic.'

Gianni sighed softly. ‘One of us is set to crash into a solid brick wall.'

‘It won't be me,' Milly told him gently. ‘I couldn't possibly fall in love with someone like you.'

‘
Accidenti
…why would I
want
you to fall in love with me?' Gianni demanded incredulously. ‘My sole interest in you is—'

‘Shut up before you talk yourself out of a dinner date,' Milly advised.

Emerging from the frighteningly fresh hold of those memories back into the present, Milly blinked and looked around herself. She was still standing on the gallery. Breathing in deep, shaken by the tremendous pull of the past, she walked slowly towards the stairs.

As she descended the sweeping staircase Gianni strode out into the wonderful Georgian hall below. Instantly she felt her tender heart quake like a stupid jelly, as if three years hadn't passed, as if her brain was forever locked in time, incapable of moving on and healing. As she stilled two steps up from the foot of the stairs, so that for once she was at his level, her hands closed into defensive fists by her sides.

‘G
IANNI
…'
Milly breathed, and she could hardly get his name past her dry lips.

‘You don't look at all well,' Gianni drawled with measured cool, incisive dark eyes resting on her without any perceptible expression. ‘You really should have stayed in bed.'

Yes, he could have handled her best as a total invalid, Milly decided. Then she would have been an object of pity, too weak and pathetic to require confrontation. Gianni went to quite incredible lengths to avoid emotional scenes. He could not bear to be vulnerable. He could not tolerate any loss of control. So he attached himself to objects, not to people. Perhaps Connor would teach him to love. She had failed—oh, boy, had she failed…

‘I'm fine,' she lied, terrified that he was registering just how much he could still affect her.

Gianni looked back at her. She was so small, so slender, so pale, haunted eyes fixed to him as if he was about to unfurl a set of cloven hooves and a toasting fork.
Fine?
The fear she couldn't hide filled him with seething bitterness.

Suddenly he wished her memory had stayed lost. Memories were bloody painful afflictions! That night in the hotel she had been so sweet. Trusting, open, just as he remembered her. The only person alive who had ever treated him as if he was just an ordinary guy. Nagging him when he was late, complaining when he was preoccupied, yawning through the business news and totally forgetting about him when she was out in her precious garden. In every way she had been different from every other woman he had had, either before or since.

Once she would have filled this awful silence, instinctively understanding that he couldn't, that when he was wound up about something he turned cold and aggressive and silent in self-defence. Then he reminded himself that this bit would be over soon. Not for nothing had he spent the past twenty-four hours seeking a rational solution to the mess they were in. And around dawn, he had come up with the answer.

Not perfect, but simple. And the instant he made that proposal Milly would go back to normal—well, maybe not immediately, he conceded grudgingly, but
obviously
she'd be over the moon. He'd also have the tactical advantage of surprise. She'd appreciate that he was making a really huge and stupendously generous effort for Connor's sake. And naturally she'd be grateful. Grateful enough to go back upstairs with him and consolidate their new understanding in the most logical way of all?

Milly knew she was gaping at Gianni like a pheasant looking up the barrel of a shotgun. But the lurch of her heart had appalled her. Feeling that sensitive to dark, deep flashing eyes as chilly as a winter's day was not a good sign. Noticing that he looked shockingly spectacular in a casual designer suit the colour of caramel was an even worse sign. Say something, a voice in her head screeched, for heaven's sake,
say
something. But her mind was a complete blank. She didn't know where to start or how she would ever stop if she did start. Silence seemed a lot safer.

Milly stiffened as Gianni extended a hand to her. It was the very last gesture she had expected from him. Uncurling her fingers, she lifted her arm in slow motion. He got tired waiting. He brought up his other hand, closed both round her waist and lifted her down to the marble-tiled floor.

A slight gasp of disconcertion escaped her. However, the sudden shrinkage in stature she suffered helped. Suddenly her strained eyes were mercifully level with Gianni's chest.

‘We've got some talking to do,' Gianni informed her next.

Milly was poleaxed. Only a woman who had been inti
mately involved with Gianni could have understood that acknowledgement to be ground-breaking and incredible. Whenever she had wanted to talk, seriously talk about personal things, Gianni had had a hundred evasive techniques. ‘Later' had been a particular favourite, followed by a sudden rampant desire for her body or a pressing appointment. It had taken her a very long time to appreciate that ‘later' meant never.

‘A lot…' Milly agreed breathlessly, suddenly experiencing a stark, shameful stab of pained resentment. What had changed Gianni?
Who
had changed him? Who had finally persuaded him that honest communication was the only option when the going got tough? It was what they had once so badly needed, but the offer was coming way too late for her to benefit.

He showed her into a library, where a log fire was burning in the grate. He strode over to the desk, lifted the phone and ordered coffee. Stilling by the hearth, Milly stretched her unsteady hands out to the heat and let her gaze travel around the magnificent room with its warm red décor.

‘What do you think of Heywood House?' Gianni asked.

‘It's beautiful.' She resisted the urge to admit that it wasn't at all what she had expected. She didn't want to stray onto impersonal topics and deflect him from anything he might want to say to her.

‘The gardens are famous. I've ensured that they've been maintained to the highest standards,' Gianni advanced smoothly.

Milly wandered over to the nearest window. She adored gardens, but right now she was so enervated she couldn't even appreciate the wonderful view. ‘It looks tremendous.'

‘There's a rare plant centre attached to the estate. I rebuilt it,' Gianni continued. ‘It doesn't exactly do a roaring trade, but the manager tells me it's a real haunt for the connoisseur.

Bewildered by this flood of extraneous information from a male who barely knew the difference between a rose and a daisy and was content to remain in a state of blissful ig
norance, Milly suddenly frowned as her mind homed in on something else entirely, and she exclaimed, ‘For goodness' sake, Gianni…I haven't even spoken to Louise! What on earth must she be thinking? She's my partner and my best friend and I didn't even
phone
her!'

The silence spread and spread.

Gianni dealt her a fulminating look. ‘I phoned her. She was very concerned. I said you'd be in touch when you were well enough…OK?'

Milly released her breath, relieved by that assurance. But she wondered why he had delivered the news with such an air of impatience. It wasn't as if she had interrupted him when he'd been talking about anything important. The door opened and a maid entered with a tray of coffee. It was a welcome diversion.

She sat down in a leather wing-back armchair and poured the coffee. Without hesitation she added three sugars to Gianni's cup.

‘We'll deal with practicalities first, get them out of the way,' Gianni announced with decisive cool. ‘And naturally the first thing I want to know is, have you any idea who left you lying badly injured on that road in Cornwall? And how did it happen?'

Milly jerked and froze, her heartbeat thudding loudly in her ears. Such obvious questions. Why hadn't she been prepared for them?

‘It must be distressing for you to have to remember that night. But it has to be dealt with.' Gianni watched her with keen, dark expectant eyes.

Milly was shot right back to that night, forced to recall things she would have preferred to leave buried, things that had nothing whatsoever to do with the accident. She lost colour. Her hand began to shake. She set down her coffee again with a clatter. She hoped to heaven Gianni didn't ask her what she had been
doing
in Cornwall in the first place, because if he did ask, she certainly didn't feel like telling him the truth.

‘Milly…?' Gianni pressed, more gently. ‘Do you remember what happened now?'

‘M-mostly…not very clearly.' A taxi had dropped her off at the cottage where Stefano had been staying with his girlfriend. She had forgotten to ask the taxi driver to wait for her: a very foolish oversight. But it had taken a lot of courage to seek out and confront Stefano. And when she had walked back out of that cottage she had felt dead inside and she really hadn't cared about anything. Not the darkness, not the wind, not the rain. She had just started walking away as fast as she could.

‘I got lost,' Milly muttered tightly.

‘Where was this? Why were you were on foot?'

‘I'd gone visiting…and, coming back, I messed up my transport arrangements. So was walking,' she began afresh, staring blindly at the silver sugar bowl, determined not to tell him any actual lies. ‘It was a horrible wet night.'

Gianni bent down, closed a hand over her knotted fingers and eased her slowly upright into the circle of his arms. ‘It was also a long time ago,
cara
. It can't hurt you now.'

Helplessly, Milly leant into him for support, but she felt like a fraud. ‘There really isn't much to remember, Gianni. I
think
I may have heard the car that hit me approaching but that's it. There's nothing else. I don't recall seeing a car or being hit.' She bowed her damp brow against his chest. ‘What has always given me the creeps is the knowledge that somebody robbed me while I was lying there hurt. I had an overnight bag with me.'

‘The hit-and-run driver and the thief may well have been the same person,' Gianni ground out, and she could feel the massive restraint he was exerting over his anger on her behalf. The knowledge of that anger comforted her. ‘I'm afraid the police will be hoping for more details than you've been able to give me.'

‘The police?' Milly echoed in surprise.

‘Some bastard left you lying by the side of that road like a piece of rubbish!' Gianni reminded her with barely sup
pressed savagery. ‘You'd be dead if a passing motorist hadn't seen you and contacted the emergency services. It's a complete miracle that you didn't have a miscarriage!'

Milly sighed. ‘I don't really want to talk to the police about this again.'

Gianni veiled his gaze. ‘You'll have to make a new statement, but I can understand that you don't like the idea of it all being raked up again,' he conceded soothingly as he settled her back into the wing-back chair. ‘I've still got a few questions I'd like answered, but we'll leave them for now.'

‘Yes…' Milly averted her pounding head, stomach still churning. She really didn't want Gianni to know she'd gone to see Stefano. She knew what interpretation he would put on that revelation. And Stefano had clearly known better than to ever mention her visit. That was no surprise to her. Gianni's kid brother had treated her like Typhoid Mary that night. With great difficulty, Milly put away that memory.

‘Right,' Gianni breathed in a next-on-the-agenda tone, as if he was chairing a board meeting. ‘I imagine you'd like to know where we're heading now.'

Considering that in two entire years with her Gianni had not once even hinted that they might be heading anywhere beyond his next flying visit, Milly was taken aback by that concise assurance. She looked up, sapphire-blue eyes very wide and wary.

Gianni leant back against his desk, looking incredibly sophisticated and elegant in his unstructured caramel suit and black T-shirt. Milly averted her head again and rubbed at a worn seam on her jeans with restive fingers.

‘To start with I should tell you why I bought this place two years ago.'

Milly frowned, not understanding why that should be of interest to her.

‘Heywood House is convenient both to the airport and the City of London. I hoped that once I found you both, you would move in here—'

‘Move in here?' Milly glanced up in frank bewilderment.
‘Why?'

Gianni sighed, as if she was being incredibly slow on the uptake. ‘Naturally I want you to live at a location where I can easily maintain regular contact with Connor. Heywood House fits the bill very well.'

‘Two years ago, you purchased this property for
me
?' Milly was thinking out loud, and she flushed with embarrassment when reality sank in a split second later.

Gianni had bought a stately home and turned it into a treasure house. Naturally
not
for her benefit but for his child's! Even that far back Gianni had been making plans. Selecting the kind of home he wanted his child to grow up in, filling it with priceless artwork and furniture to create a gilded cocoon of wealth and privilege. Could she ever have dreamt three years ago that he would warm to the concept of being a father to such an extent? With an effort, she forced her attention back to him.

‘To all intents and purposes Heywood House
will
be yours, until Connor reaches his twenty-fifth birthday.' Gianni made that distinction with complete cool. ‘I intend to sign all the documentation to that effect and this is now your home. I want you to feel secure here.'

Everything to be tied up all nice and tight and legal. Very much Gianni's stamp. Gianni had already worked out how best to control her and, through her, his child. Where they lived,
how
they lived. And, to that end, Heywood House would be put in trust for their son. Milly stared down into her untouched coffee, feeling incredibly hurt and humiliated. He didn't trust her as far as he could throw her now—but then had he ever?

For the first time since she had recovered her memory, Milly recalled the DNA testing Gianni had mentioned. A shudder of very real repulsion ran through her in response. One glimpse of her with Stefano and that had been that. Instantly Gianni had been willing to believe her capable of any evil. Two years of her loving faith had been eradicated
in a nano-second. Now, it seemed, he didn't even trust her not to try and make a claim for a share of this house at some time in the future.

‘I thought you'd be pleased about the gardens and the plant centre.' Gianni regarded her like a generous benefactor, still awaiting the gratitude he saw as his due and keen to give her a helpful nudge in the right direction. ‘Obviously those factors influenced my choice of this particular property.'

Unable to credit that, hating her as he did, he could have been influenced by any desire to please her, Milly swallowed hard. ‘Didn't it occur to you that I might want to live somewhere of my
own
choosing?'