by Lynne Graham
‘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.’
‘I…I did what?’ Milly gasped, thunderstruck. ‘Honestly?’
‘Honestly, and only two more questions to go,’ Gianni reminded her.
‘Why…why did I leave you?’ she asked awkwardly.
Silence thundered on the line.
‘That one’s on the forbidden list,’ Gianni responded flatly.
‘That’s not fair,’ Milly protested. ‘I mean, obviously I want to know that!’
‘I’m not telling you. When you’ve come up with a replacement question, call me back,’ Gianni suggested drily.
The line went dead.
Had Gianni done something dreadful to make her walk out? Had she done something dreadful? Or had they had a foolish argument in which one of them or both of them had said too much? An argument which struck Gianni as so stupid in retrospect that it really galled him to even think of it now?
She waited ten minutes and then she punched out the number that had arrived with the phone.
‘It’s me,’ she announced.
‘I know it’s you,’ Gianni breathed wryly.
‘Second question,’ she began rather tautly after his last response. ‘Was I happy with you?’
‘I thought you were deliriously happy, but that’s not really a question I can answer for you.’
In the last three years, Milly had known not one minute of what she could have termed delirious happiness. The concept of such an extreme couldn’t help but impress her to death.
‘Gianni…what was I like then?’
‘Stubborn, quick-tempered, full of life, unconventional…hell, this isn’t a safe subject!’
Milly snatched in a ragged breath, still reeling in astonishment from that disturbing flood of adjectives.
‘Are you OK?’
A choked sob was lodged in her throat. ‘Fine,’ she managed. ‘I think I’ll go to bed now.’
Milly Henner, it seemed, had been another woman entirely. A definite individual. Lively, strong…unconventional? A humourless laugh escaped Milly as she climbed into bed. Gianni’s description had knocked her for six.
She had judged their past relationship on the basis of the narrow outlook she had developed over the past three years. His mistress. She had been shocked, ashamed. She had immediately seen herself as a victim. But Gianni hadn’t described a woman who was a victim; Gianni had described an equal. Where had that stronger and more confident woman gone? And was she ever going to find her again?
Exhaustion sent Milly to sleep quickly, but dreams full of disturbing and increasingly frightening images kept her tossing and turning. Terror began to rise notch by notch until finally she came awake in a complete panic, shaking like a leaf and sobbing out loud, so confused she didn’t even know where she was.
‘Dio mio, cara…calm down!’
The instant she heard Gianni’s voice she froze, and then just crumpled into the shelter of his arms, sick with relief that he was there.
CHAPTER SIX
A SOB catching in her throat, Milly pressed her damp face into Gianni’s shoulder. The faint tang of expensive cologne underlying his own distinctive male scent made her nostrils flare. She breathed him in deep, like a drug.
‘That must have been some nightmare, cara.’ Gianni held her back from him.
Her eyes were huge and shadowed in the stark white triangle of her face. ‘I was struggling with someone in the dark…it felt so real!’
‘But it couldn’t have been. Nothing like that ever happened to you, at least not when I knew you.’ Gianni spread long fingers across her taut cheekbones, dark, deep flashing eyes scanning her still frightened face.
Some of her tension drained away at that comforting assurance, but not all of it. She had never had a dream like that before, could not help suspecting that something she had once experienced had summoned it up.
‘Before you woke up, you called my name at the top of your voice,’ Gianni imparted softly, mesmeric dark eyes glinting.
‘Did I?’ Milly didn’t want to talk about the dream any more. It had scared her too much. Her brows drew together. ‘How did you hear me…I mean, where on earth did you come from?’ she belatedly thought to ask.
‘About thirty feet away,’ Gianni told her. ‘I’d moved to work in the room next door. I didn’t think you should be alone tonight, so I came up about an hour ago. If you hadn’t wakened, you’d never have known I was there.’
In the dim light, Milly studied him properly for the first time. Shorn of his jacket and tie, his white silk shirt open at his strong brown throat and his black hair slightly tousled, he looked infinitely more approachable than he usually did. A faint blue-black shadow had already darkened his aggressive jawline. Even stubble, she thought guiltily, added to his appeal. Hurriedly she turned her head away and made herself rest back against the pillows.
‘I’ll get back to work.’ Gianni began to stand up.
Milly tensed in dismay. ‘Do you have to?’
‘You want me to stay?’
Milly nodded agreement. ‘And talk about something cheerful. You could tell me about my parents, if you like.’
Gianni folded down on the bed, stretched his long, lean frame out with intrinsic grace and sent her a winging glance from beneath he
avily lidded eyes. ‘You know what’s going to happen, don’t you?’ he murmured, like an indolent tiger.
‘Nothing’s going to happen.’ Milly reddened. ‘Think of the bed as a sofa.’
Gianni loosed a low-pitched laugh and tilted his arrogant dark head back against the white pillows. ‘Your parents…you told me they were crazy about each other. Your father was called Leo and he was a Londoner. Your mother, Suzanne, was French—’
‘French?’ Milly rolled over in surprise to stare at him.
‘You’re practically bilingual. Didn’t you find that out yet? You spent the first eight years of your life in Paris.’
‘You’re supposed to start at the beginning. Do you know when my parents got married?’
‘They didn’t…they weren’t into matrimony.’
Milly was stunned. ‘You mean, I’m…?’
‘Yes.’
She slowly shook her head. Her throat tickled, and then the laughter just bubbled out of her.
Gianni leant down, curved his hands to her shaking shoulders and tugged her up to his level. ‘What’s so funny?’
Struggling to get a grip on herself again, Milly released a rueful groan. ‘It’s just so ironic. In the world I’ve been living in for the past three years illegitimacy is a very serious issue, and now I find out that I was born out of wedlock too! Tell me about Leo and Suzanne,’ she urged.
‘They were pavement artists.’
‘Pavement artists,’ Milly repeated weakly, and then she smiled. ‘I like that.’
‘Suzanne was knocked down and killed by a drunk driver in Paris. Your father never really got over it, and that was the end of your settled home life. He took you roving all over Europe with him. You didn’t see the inside of too many schools, but you adored your father and you always talked as if you’d had a wonderful childhood.’
Milly gazed up into Gianni’s lean bronzed face like a child listening to an enthralling bedtime story. ‘I’m glad.’
‘But then you always were a sunny optimist.’ Gianni skimmed a lazy forefinger lightly through the glossy strands of blonde hair tumbling across his forearm and stared down at her with glittering dark golden eyes.