The Sicilian's Mistress

‘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 suppressed 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?’

‘Within certain parameters,’ Gianni qualified without hesitation. ‘This is my son we’re talking about, but let’s put that issue aside for now. I have something far more important I want to discuss with you…’

A slightly jagged laugh escaped Milly’s tight, dry throat. Her nerves were already stretched tight as piano wires.

‘What’s so funny?’ Gianni asked.