The Sicilian's Mistress (18 page)

Yet Milly's warmth and affection had drawn Gianni even as he'd marvelled at her naivety in being so foolishly, dangerously open. Didn't she know he was going to hurt her? Didn't she know he had nothing to give back? That deep down inside, where she was all giving and feeling, he was just one big, empty hollow? But fate had had the last and cruellest laugh on him. The day Gianni had found Milly with his brother had been the day he'd finally realised how much he loved her.

Levering himself off the cold wall with sudden force, Gianni went back upstairs and headed straight for the shower, wrenching on the controls with angry hands. Love had been a breeze for Milly. But love had been a killer-chiller for him. So she needn't think that sneaking out of bed in the middle of the night to make some childish offering of his once favourite snack was likely to change the status quo!

 

Milly carried the tray upstairs. She was so happy. She was just so incredibly happy. Gianni had been so tender, so teasing, so warm. It had honestly been as if the Stefano episode had never happened.

How
Gianni could shut it all out,
how
he could be like that with her while still believing what he did, she could not begin to comprehend. But suddenly it didn't seem to matter. If that worked for him right now, that was all right with her. Only once they were safely married Gianni was in for a rather unpleasant surprise, she conceded ruefully. If it took her fifty years, if it took chaining him to a wall in a locked room, she would make him listen to her about Stefano!

Fully awake, Gianni was lounging in bed, intent on his notebook computer. His black hair was still damp from the shower he had evidently taken. His sleek, powerful bronzed body was dark and exotic against the pale bed linen. Milly studied him with wholly possessive eyes. Externally he was absolutely gorgeous, internally he was a little bit complicated, but they finally had a future and she intended to make the most of the opportunity.

‘I thought you might be hungry…' She slid the tray down beside him, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Possibly it had been slightly over the top to rush down to the kitchen and turn out a
tarte tatin
.

‘I'm not, but don't let me inhibit you,' Gianni murmured, without taking his eyes from the screen.

‘It's something you like,' she told him.

Gianni glanced at the laden tray. Then he glanced up at her, brilliant dark eyes cool, questioning, filling her with instant discomfiture. ‘I may not employ a chef here, but whatever I want I
can
afford to send out for,' he reminded her with sardonic softness. ‘So why the hell did you feel the need to get out of bed at this hour to bake?'

Hot, mortified pink flooded Milly's cheeks. She snatched the tray back off the bed, but she wanted to pitch it at him.

‘I don't require cute little domesticated gestures from you now,' Gianni added in measured addition.

The tray rattled in her tensing grasp. But for the two cups of hot coffee, she would definitely have dumped the lot on his lap. Shaken and angered by his volatile change of mood, Milly returned the tray to the kitchen. Why was Gianni behaving like this all of a sudden?

In bed, he had been so different. Dear heaven, why was she always so stupid around Gianni?
In bed.
Within those two simple words dwelt the explanation. The minute Gianni had satisfied that high-voltage sex drive of his, he just went right back to despising her again. Well, she refused to put up with that sort of treatment. She hadn't sunk that low yet. Or
had
she?

Hadn't she let Gianni fly her over for the night like a call-girl? A sure thing? She had definitely been a sure thing. Anguish infiltrated Milly at that acknowledgement. And hadn't she played a full and uninhibited part in her own downfall? Tonight she had been his puppet on a string…his totally abandoned puppet on a string. She squirmed, fingers curling on the stack of plates she had left lying out on the counter.

‘Are you coming back to bed?' Gianni enquired with studied casualness from the doorway.

As Milly turned, her eyes lit on him like burning blue stars. She grabbed up a plate and hurled it with all her might. Looking genuinely startled, Gianni ducked. The plate smashed bare inches from him. She sent a second plate flying with similar accuracy. ‘If I wanted to hit you, I
could
,' she told him furiously. ‘So get out of here before I forget that violence is not an answer!'

Gianni straightened with admirable cool. ‘OK…if it's that important, I'll eat it,' he breathed grittily.

Milly studied him with huge blue eyes and slowly shook her golden head. ‘Why are you so stupid?' she whispered helplessly.

‘Why are you?' Gianni responded, ice-cold.

Milly spun away, denying the cruel message in his diamond-hard eyes. He could make passionate love to her over
and over again but he wouldn't allow her to harbour the smallest illusion about the precise nature of their relationship
out
of bed. Sentimental touches of the ‘cute' and ‘domesticated' variety were out of line. When he had said he wanted everything the way it had once been between them, he had really been lying in his beautiful white teeth. All he really wanted was all the sex he could handle.

‘If I hurt your feelings, I'm sorry, but we need to start out straight,' Gianni murmured flatly.

He'd done it deliberately. She knew he had rejected her stupid edible offering deliberately. But she also knew she didn't want to force a major confrontation
before
they got married. Was that proof of her intelligence or proof of her cowardice?

Feeling wretched, she cleaned up the broken plates and then went back upstairs to the bedroom. A small jeweller's box with a very impressive logo awaited her on her pillow. She lifted the tiny box and set it unopened on the cabinet.

Sliding into bed, she was careful not to even glance at Gianni, and she turned her back on him. She had let him see how much he had hurt her and that stung her pride.

‘It's a ring,' Gianni advanced, without any expression at all.

Grudging curiosity stirred Milly, because he had never given her a ring before. Reclaiming the box, she flipped it open on a spectacular ruby surrounded by diamonds.

She threaded the ring onto her right hand and said, with all the enthusiasm of a woman confronting a huge pile of dirty washing, ‘Fantastic. Thanks.'

‘You're wearing it on the wrong finger,' Gianni informed her drily.

Milly frowned. ‘Sorry?'

‘It's an engagement ring,' Gianni extended in a charged undertone.

Milly flipped right over to look at him, blue eyes rounded with incredulity. ‘An
engagement
ring?'

‘Why not? We're getting married.' His bold profile rigid, Gianni doused the lights.

End of discussion. In the darkness, Milly fingered her engagement ring with rather more interest than she had been prepared to show a minute earlier. A romantic gesture? She reddened. Hardly. A conventional one? Gianni had yet to mention
when
they would marry. Milly tensed at that belated realisation. Was it possible that this was going to be a
very
long engagement? The sort of engagement that went on year after endless year until it became a positive joke to all onlookers?

 

‘Hi…' Her expressive face pale and stiff, Milly slid behind the table in the dining room. An unfamiliar maid had wakened her.

‘I'd have let you sleep, but I know you want to be back for Connor.' With a slow-burning smile that reminded Milly of how very lacking in restraint she had been around dawn, Gianni poured her a cup of coffee. ‘You still look pretty tired.'

Milly reddened like an awkward teenager. While she had still been deliciously drowsy and defenceless Gianni had invaded her side of the bed, ruthlessly set on conquest. And even with all her experience of Gianni's incredible expertise she had been quite unprepared either for that level of slow, exquisite seduction or the intensity of his determination to give her the ultimate in pleasure. The intimate ache of her body had powered that smile he now felt able to bestow upon her.

She looked so miserable, Gianni reflected in frustration. He focused on her hand, where it rested on the table only about nine inches from his own. But Gianni was still challenged. Breathing in deep, he reached out suddenly to cover her tense fingers with his hand.

Milly froze in complete disconcertion. Gianni was not given to demonstrative gestures beyond the bedroom door.
She stared at him. His ridiculously lush black lashes semi-veiled his eyes, but his tension was pronounced.

‘Last night, nothing went according to plan,' Gianni advanced, with the taut stiffness of a male who never normally allowed himself to explain anything he did. ‘We had a reservation at Castel's. We were supposed to dine out. But coming back here, seeing you here again…'

As his hesitation threatened to stretch into a stark silence, Milly instinctively closed her other hand round his as well, literally holding him prisoner. ‘Yes?' she encouraged in a breathless whisper.

‘It was like we'd never been apart,' Gianni completed flatly.

‘I thought that was what you wanted,' Milly muttered unevenly.

Gianni's strong jawline clenched. ‘I did…I
do
…but for a while last night I didn't…'

Milly waited with bated breath, but the silence lingered. She was stunned by the extraordinary fact that Gianni had made the effort to explain that his passion had been entirely spontaneous and that he had originally planned a very different evening. Dinner and dancing at the most exclusive nightclub in Paris put the presentation of an engagement ring into a new light.

But his second admission had shaken her most of all. That had been Gianni telling her in as few words as possible that last night their unresolved past had returned to haunt him and caused his change of mood. It was such a gigantic step forward in communication that Milly's eyes glowed as if he had lit a neon light inside her. ‘Gianni, I'm so pleased you told me this. I know how difficult—'

‘And now that we've got that out of the way,
cara mia
,' Gianni interposed at speed, his lean, dark features lightening with barely concealed relief, ‘We should talk about the wedding arrangements. I've applied for a special licence. We can get married this week.'

As a distraction, that change of subject worked. Having
been on the very brink of an emotional speech, Milly was stopped dead in her tracks.
‘This week?'

‘Why not?' Gianni elevated a winged ebony brow. ‘We have no good reason to wait.'

‘I guess not…' Her attention welded to his spectacular dark eyes, Milly's response was rather weak. She had been so totally wrong in her suspicions. Gianni hadn't been using an engagement ring as a delaying tactic. If anything, he was prepared to
rush
her to the altar.

‘Connor needs me around,' Gianni pointed out.

Her dreamy smile faded. ‘Yes, of course he does.'

 

Louise Barclay watched Milly twirl in her wedding dress. Reminiscent of a romantic Edwardian tea gown, it was an incredibly elegant confection of silk adorned with exquisite handmade lace which enhanced her slender figure.

‘You really,
really
love this guy, don't you?' Louise breathed with a slightly dazed expression on her freckled face.

Milly fell still in apparent dismay at that charge. ‘How do you know that?'

Louise assumed a mock air of deep concentration. ‘Oh, it might be the way Gianni's name enters just about every sentence. Then again, it might be the totally off-this-planet look you have when you say his name—'

‘Louise!'
Milly groaned.

‘Or it could even be the fact that you've phoned him four times in the last two hours. I've heard of bridal nerves, but the last two times you called he was downstairs under this very same roof,' Louise pointed out gently.

Milly went pink. ‘Phone calls are like a jokey thing between us.'

‘Hey, I'm not criticising. Obviously he's crazy about you too.'

Eyes clouding, Milly turned away. She hadn't actually seen Gianni for four days. Business had kept him abroad. But, since her return from Paris, Gianni had made regular
calls, and on the phone he was Gianni as she remembered him. Tender, teasing and warm. That was why the phone had become her lifeline.

Louise sighed. ‘Why didn't Gianni just organise a media man-hunt when you went missing three years ago?'

Milly stiffened. ‘Strictly speaking, I wasn't missing. I left Paris because we'd split up. We had some major problems.'

Her friend grinned. ‘But nothing the two of you couldn't surmount within a week of finding each other again!'

But Milly knew better. The Stefano episode would never be forgotten. She was certain that her supposed betrayal had come back to haunt Gianni that night in Paris, and it would keep on coming back until she dealt with it. But how
was
she to clear her own name?

What, after all, had changed? It would still be her word against Stefano's. Stefano would never tell the truth; he had too much to lose. But for all that, Milly mused, Stefano would surely be very shocked to learn that she was back in Gianni's life in the infinitely more secure role of his wife.

Her portable phone buzzed. She snatched it up. ‘Gianni…?'

‘I'm now on my way to the church. We haven't yet met any roadblocks or fallen trees—'

‘Don't be snide.'

‘Of course, some gorgeous flame from my past could still throw herself across the church steps and prevent me from reaching the altar—'

‘That's not funny!' Milly cut in hotly.

‘Milly…proceed to the bedroom door. That's the large wooden oblong with the handle. Open the door, walk down the stairs and get into the transport waiting,' Gianni instructed with gentle satire. ‘If you keep me hanging around at that church, I'll—'