The Sicilian's Mistress

‘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—’