The Sicilian's Mistress (10 page)

Only a couple of hours ago she had hated Gianni D'Angelo like poison. He had been the destroyer. He had been the target of all her furious disbelief and bitter resentment. But now, as he used the car phone and talked in fluid Italian, she studied him with helpless intensity. The strong bone structure, the straight, arrogant nose, the firmly chiselled mouth. The dangerous dark eyes that knew too much, saw too much, and which he could turn on her like a weapon to express more than most people could say in five minutes. Those eyes were spectacular in the frame of that lean, dark face.

His gaze narrowed slumbrously, his arrogant dark head tilting back almost as if he was inviting her appraisal to continue. The elegant, sexily indolent sprawl of his long, lean, powerful body made her breath shorten in her throat, her heart thump against her breastbone. He really was
so
beautiful…

Colour ran up beneath her complexion and she tore her
attention from him, dismay and embarrassment darting through her. How could she be thinking such thoughts now? And she could feel herself wanting to trust him, but how could she trust him when she couldn't even trust herself? If she had learned anything over the past hours, it was that every single thing came at a price.

‘Did you say you wanted me back because of Connor?' She got even redder as she spoke, knowing that she was being too blunt.

‘No,' Gianni drawled, with all the cool she lacked. ‘I wouldn't pretend even for the sake of my son. If you tried to deny me access to him, I would fight you through legal channels, but I believe you already accept that Connor has a right to get to know his father.'

‘Yes.' Milly was impressed by that clear-minded reading of the situation. Succinct, realistic, fair.

On the drive through town, the limo pulled up on the main street. Gianni buzzed a window down. One of his security men passed in a large shallow box stamped with the logo of a newly opened pizza parlour. Seconds later, the limo rejoined the traffic.

Gianni settled the box on her lap without ceremony. ‘You're crazy about pizza.'

‘Am I?' Pizza wasn't something that featured on the menu in the Jenningses' home, and Edward despised all fast food.

‘You didn't even have breakfast this morning. You need to eat something before we go and collect Connor.' Gianni poured her a soft drink from the built-in bar. ‘Why are you staring at me?'

‘No reason…' Possibly it was the combination of the vast, opulent limo, the humble pizza box and Gianni's total lack of snobbery. Or possibly it was the regularity with which he seemed to act to ensure her well-being. And always without comment or fanfare, as if it was the most natural thing in the world that he should take care of her.

Touched by that comforting thought, after the lack of caring Edward had demonstrated when the chips were down,
Milly opened the box. She lifted out a warm, flavoursome wedge and was surprised to feel her tastebuds water. ‘Aren't you having any?'

‘I'm not hungry.'

But Milly was ravenous, and nothing had ever tasted so good as that pizza. When she could eat no more, she sat unselfconsciously licking her fingers clean until some sixth sense made her lift her head. Gianni's burnished gaze roamed intently from her wet fingertip to her moist pink rounded mouth and flashed a message of very masculine hunger straight into her widening eyes. The atmosphere was electric.

Her breathing fracturing, Milly shifted on the seat. A starburst of heat blossomed between her thighs, making her flush with discomfiture. Shaken by a response that she couldn't control, she shivered. All of a sudden she was painfully conscious of the ripe fullness of her breasts and the swollen tightness of her nipples. The sexual sizzle in the air unnerved her. And Gianni's tension was patent. Feverish colour lay in a hard line over his taut cheekbones. Her pupils dilating, she stared wordlessly back at him, torn by a bewildering mixture of excitement, fear and fascination.

‘I know I can't touch you. Don't tease me,' Gianni breathed in charged reproof.

In sudden embarrassment, Milly closed her eyes to shut him out. ‘I'm not like that…like
this
!' she stressed in denial.

‘Stretch your imagination. Once you regarded a healthy desire to rip my clothes off as the most natural thing in the world.' His deep-pitched drawl was as abrasive as sand sliding over silk. ‘It was the same for both of us. I once withstood a flight of sixteen hours just to spend two hours with you and then fly right back again.'

That deep, dark drawl scent erotic images that made her squirm skimming into her mind's eye. He had flown halfway across the world just to spend two hours with her? She was stunned by that knowledge. And was there a woman alive
who wouldn't feel her self-esteem enhanced by such an extravagant gesture?

‘Every time we made love felt like the first time. Endless variations on the same glorious theme. The hunger was never satisfied. I don't like anything that comes between me and control,' Gianni confessed huskily. ‘But nobody else has ever made me feel the way you can make me feel. So if I'm not ashamed of it, why should you be?'

And Milly listened,
of course
she listened, drinking in every word, taken aback and then impressed by his honesty. It no longer felt quite so indecent to experience a sudden violent longing to be in his arms. Past chemistry had to be operating on her, a powerful physical sense of familiarity. And at least Gianni really genuinely wanted her, she found herself thinking helplessly. Edward hadn't, not really.

And Gianni had nothing to gain and no reason to lie to her. She respected his need to forge a relationship with his son. He already knew she wouldn't try to keep them apart. He was being so kind today. So why had he seemed so very cold and hostile to her yesterday?

Perhaps he had just felt awkward. Perhaps he had been apprehensive of her reaction to the idea of having to share her son. She had been overwrought, confused and angry. Her initial reactions to him would have been far from reassuring, she decided.

‘I've booked the suite above mine for you and Connor,' Gianni divulged lazily as the limo pulled up outside Connor's nursery.

Milly glanced up and met his eyes in dismay. ‘I—'

‘You have to make that break. It's up to you whether you do it now or later. But if you stay with the Jenningses you're likely to find yourself being put under more pressure, and you have enough to cope with right now. They're not ready to accept that things have changed.'

Things have changed.
Such a bland description of the shattering new knowledge that had virtually wiped out the past three years of her life. But to move straight out into a
hotel? Gianni's hotel? She needed to stand on her own feet, no matter how difficult it was. But Gianni
was
Connor's father. Surely she could trust him that far? She badly needed a quiet corner where she could lick her wounds, pull herself together and decide what to do next.

‘Would you leave me alone?'

‘If that's what you want.'

She wasn't at all sure it was, but somehow it had seemed safer to give him that impression.

‘But I'd like to spend time with Connor,' Gianni completed.

‘I'd have gone to my friend, Louise…but she wouldn't have room for us.'

She went to collect Connor. He did an excited dance on the pavement when he saw the big car. One look at Gianni and his whole face lit up. Connor scrambled into the back seat and wedged himself cheerfully as close as he could get to Gianni.

‘Phroom-phroom!' he urged with a grin, impatient for the limo to move off again.

Milly's heart clenched when she saw Gianni meet that satisfied grin with one of his own. A startlingly easy, natural smile such as he had never shown her. It wiped every scrap of reserve from his lean bronzed features and was, she sensed, a rare event. Can I trust him…dare I trust him? What have I got to lose?

 

Gianni watched Milly pace restively round the dimly lit and spacious reception room, her slender body rigid as a bowstring.

So far her control had been too good to be true. A return visit to the Jenningses' home had been yet another distressing experience for her. She had been greeted with recriminations about her treatment of Edward and shocked reproaches at the speed with which she was moving out. And Gianni had been as welcome as the Grim Reaper calling in at a christening.

However, Milly had still sat down with Robin and Davina
Jennings to tell them how truly grateful she was for all they had done for her. In fact, Milly had shone like a star. She had said and done all the right things. She had come across as loyal, compassionate and forgiving. It had been a hell of an impressive show. But Gianni had watched her like a hawk, waiting for a fleeting expression to reveal to his cynical eyes at least that it was all just a clever act.

Yet once Gianni had fully believed that what you saw
was
what you got with Milly. But no decent woman would have betrayed him with his own brother for the sake of a quick sexual fix. He had realised then that Milly had to have a really shallow core which she was outstandingly good at keeping hidden. Bitter anger lanced through Gianni at that knowledge. No way was he about to allow her to suck him in with that I'm-so-nice act again!

So why
was
he still hanging about, holding her hand and being supportive? She didn't deserve that sort of stuff any more. She was playing him like a little lapdog on a lead! Just because she looked all fragile and forlorn, so touchingly brave in the face of adversity! Gianni slung her a brooding appraisal and then stiffened. What a total idiot he was being! A billionaire turning up to reclaim her had to be of considerable comfort! No wonder she wasn't coming apart at the seams! Suddenly he wished he had shown up in a battered old car and pretended to be poor…

His lean, strong face grim, Gianni strode rigid-backed towards the door. ‘Call Room Service when you want to eat,' he told Milly.

Milly stopped pacing, shadowed blue eyes flying to him in unconcealed dismay. ‘Where are you going?'

‘Look, all this stuff is taking a large chunk out of my work schedule,' Gianni informed her flatly. ‘Just thought I'd mention it.'

Milly's lower lip trembled. He sounded so fed up with her, but when she thought about what he had had to put up with over the past day or so, suddenly she wasn't the least bit surprised by the way he was behaving. Her wobbly
mouth made a determined stab at an apologetic smile. ‘I'm really sorry, Gianni.'

Gianni shifted one broad shoulder in an infinitesimal and very Latin shrug. ‘What for?'

‘Because I've been really selfish,' Milly acknowledged guiltily. ‘You've been dragged into the midst of all my problems and this morning I was even calling you names! If it wasn't for you, I'd still be thinking I was Faith Jennings. But not once have I stopped to say thank you—'

‘I don't want gratitude.'

Milly looked uncertainly at him. Sensing his eagerness to be gone, she suppressed the awareness that she didn't want to be alone with only her own thoughts to keep her company. She wasn't a baby. She had to manage.

‘Could you bring your work up here?' she nonetheless heard herself ask.

‘I have half a dozen staff working flat out. I doubt if Connor would sleep through the racket.'

Milly nodded slowly, forced an understanding smile and turned away.

Gianni opened the door.

‘How do I get in touch with you if I need to?' she suddenly spun back to demand.

Gianni stilled. ‘I'm only one floor below you,' he pointed out drily.

‘So what's the number of your suite?' she prompted anxiously.

Gianni studied her for a long, tense moment, brilliant dark eyes veiled. ‘I'll send a mobile phone up…OK?'

Her throat thickening, she nodded again.

He compressed his expressive mouth even more. ‘You can call me as much as you want…all right?'

Milly kept on nodding like a puppet.

She wouldn't call. He wouldn't want to be interrupted. But didn't he realise that she needed to talk? She stopped herself dead on that censorious thought. Exactly when had she begun pinning so many expectations on Gianni? Maybe
right at this moment she badly needed to believe that Gianni really cared about what happened to her, but that didn't give her an excuse to cling to him.

Yet Gianni was the only person who
knew
Milly Henner, her one connection, her sole link to twenty-three years of her life. Everything she had ever told him about herself was locked inside that proud dark head of his. But he wasn't parting with any of it in a hurry, was he? He was sitting on all that information like a miser on a gold mountain!

With Gianni gone, Milly made herself order a meal. Connor was fast asleep in one of the two bedrooms. He had had tea before she'd left her former home. After the fastest bath on record, she had changed him into his pyjamas and tucked him into bed. Already overtired, he had slept within minutes.

Milly took her time eating, but tasted nothing. Then she went for a long shower, donned a pale blue cotton nightdress and carefully dried her hair. When she emerged from the bedroom, the mobile phone Gianni had sent up was buzzing like an angry wasp on the coffee table.

She picked it up. ‘Yes?'

‘Why the blazes haven't you called me?' Gianni demanded rawly.

‘I didn't want to bother you.'

‘How am I supposed to work when I'm worrying about why you haven't called?' Gianni gritted.

‘I'm sorry. I didn't realise you were worrying.' Milly sank down on the nearest sofa, much of her extreme tension evaporating under that comforting assurance. ‘Gianni, can I ask you some questions now about us?'

‘You're limited to three.'

‘How did we meet?'

‘You jumped out of my birthday cake. Next question.'