Unfinished Business with the Duke Page 13

  But, despite all the calm common-sense justifications running through Issy’s mind, she felt as if a boulder were pressing against her chest, making it hard for her to breathe.

  She got off the toilet seat and reached for some tissues, swiped at her cheeks to catch the errant tears. She blew her nose, brushed her fingers through her hair and stared blankly into the mirror, but the boulder refused to budge.

  As she stared at her reflection she thought of Gio the evening before, his cheeks flushed a dull red while his uncle bade him farewell.

  Tenderness and longing and hope surged up. And the boulder cut off her air supply.

  ‘Oh, God!’

  She collapsed onto the toilet seat, her fist clutching the tissue, her knees trembling and every last ounce of blood seeping from her face.

  ‘I can’t have,’ she whispered. ‘It’s only been a few days.’

  But she sank her head into her hands and groaned. Because there was no getting away from it. She’d let her emotions loose and now look what had happened? She’d only gone and fallen hopelessly in love with Giovanni Hamilton. Again.

  She wanted to deny it. But suddenly all those wayward emotions made complete sense.

  Her Pollyanna-like obsession to get Gio to embrace his family. Her blissful happiness at their renewed friendship. Her relentless attempts to understand the traumas of Gio’s childhood and then help him fix them. Even her bizarre anguish at the discovery that she wasn’t pregnant.

  Her fabulous holiday fling had never been about sex, or friendship, or putting the mistakes of her youth behind her. That had been a smokescreen generated by lust and denial.

  She groaned louder.

  Fabulous. She may well have just made the biggest mistake of her life. Twice.

  It took Issy a good ten minutes to get off the toilet seat. But in that time she’d managed to get one crucial thing into perspective.

  Falling in love with Gio again didn’t have to be a disaster.

  The man she’d come to know wasn’t the surly, unhappy boy she’d once fallen for. He was more settled, more content and much more mature now. And so was she.

  She hadn’t imagined the connection between them in the last few days. The power and passion of their lovemaking. The intensity of their friendship. Or the astonished pride on Gio’s face when his uncle Carlo had welcomed him into the bosom of his family.

  All of which meant Gio wasn’t necessarily a lost cause.

  But she also knew that the spectre of that boy was still there. And, given all the casual cruelty that boy had suffered, it wasn’t going to be easy for the man to let his guard down and accept that she loved him. Especially not in the space of three days!

  After splashing her eyes with cold water, Issy practised a look of delighted relief in the bathroom mirror for when she informed Gio of her unpregnant state.

  She mustn’t give Gio any clues about how she felt. Not until she’d worked out a strategy. She needed to be calm and measured and responsible this time. The way she hadn’t been at seventeen. Which meant taking the time to gauge Gio’s feelings before she blurted out her own.

  Putting her hand on the doorknob, she took a steadying breath—and decided not to dwell on the fact that her strategies so far hadn’t exactly been a massive success.

  Stepping out of the bathroom, she closed the door behind her, grateful for the darkness.

  ‘What’s going on? You okay?’

  The deep, sleep-roughened voice made her jump.

  ‘Yes. I’m absolutely fine,’ she said, forcing what she hoped was a bright smile onto her face.

  ‘You sure?’ He paused to rub his eyes. ‘You’ve been in there forever.’

  Propped up on the pillows, the sheet draped over his hips, Gio looked so gorgeous she felt the boulder press on her chest again. She made herself cross the room.

  ‘Actually, I’m better than fine. I’ve got some good news.’ She shrugged off the bathrobe and slipped under the sheet. ‘I’ve started my period.’

  He frowned, and something flickered in his eyes, but the light was too dim to make it out. ‘So you’re not pregnant?’ he said dully, as his hand settled on her hip, rubbed.

  She snuggled into his arms, pressing her back against his chest.

  ‘What a relief, right?’ she said, swallowing down the words that wanted to burst out.

  Don’t say anything, you ninny. It’s far too soon.

  ‘Which means there’s no need for any emergency contraceptives,’ she continued. ‘Here or at home. Thank goodness,’ she babbled on, the mention of home making the boulder grow. He’d asked her to stay another night. Did that mean he would expect her to leave today?

  He said nothing for a long time. His hand absently circling her hip. The only sound was the deafening hum of the air conditioner.

  Would he say something? Give her a sign that he’d like her to stay a little longer? She needed more time.

  Eventually he moved. Warm palms settled over her belly and stroked gently, easing the ache from the dull cramps.

  ‘That’s good,’ he said at last, the murmured words devoid of emotion.

  Issy placed her hands over his and breathed in his scent. ‘Yes, isn’t it?’ she said, trying to ignore the now enormous boulder.

  He hadn’t asked her to stay. But he hadn’t asked her to leave either. That had to be a good sign. Didn’t it?

  ‘Buongiorno, signorina.’

  Issy blinked at Carlotta’s greeting as she pushed herself up in bed, gripping the sheet to cover her nakedness. She pushed her hair out of her eyes and watched the older woman place a tray on the terrace table, put out a plate of pastries, a pot of coffee and one cup.

  She felt achy and tired, as if she hadn’t slept at all. Probably because she hadn’t. All the questions she didn’t have answers for had made her emotions veer from euphoria to devastation during the pre-dawn hours as she’d tried to sleep.

  ‘Scusami, Carlotta. Dové Signor Hamilton?’ she asked, doing her best to pronounce the question correctly.

  The housekeeper smiled and replied in Italian, speaking far too fast for Issy to catch more than a few words. Then Carlotta took a folded note out of her apron pocket, passed it to Issy, bobbed a quick curtsy and left.

  Issy waited until the door had closed, a feeling of dread settling over her, before glancing at the clock on the mantelpiece. It wasn’t even nine o’clock yet. Where could Gio have gone?

  She opened the note, her hands trembling. But as she read it her breath gushed out in a shaky puff.

  Sorry, Issy.

  Had business at the office. You’ll have to survive without me today.

  Back around dinnertime. Ask Carlotta if you need anything.

  Ciao, Gio

  A lone tear trickled down her cheek as the hope she’d been clinging to dissolved.

  How could he have gone to the office without waiting for her to wake up? She sniffed heavily. Well, she wouldn’t have to worry about blurting out her feelings, seeing as he wasn’t even here.

  It was only after she’d read it three more times that the full import of the curt dismissive note dawned on her.

  What had Gio really been hoping for when he’d left this morning? The veiled message in the cursory note seemed obvious all of a sudden. When he returned home tonight, he hoped to discover the sticky business of ending their affair had been dealt with in his absence. He hadn’t said anything about her leaving last night because he’d hadn’t felt he needed to. It had always been understood that she would go once her period started.

  The agony threatened to swamp her as she choked down breakfast and got dressed, but she refused to let any tears fall. There would be time enough for that when she got home.

  After breakfast, Issy packed her bag and arranged a flight home via the computer terminal in Gio’s study. She rang Maxi and told her she would be at the theatre tomorrow, ready to get back to work. The conversation fortified her. She needed to return to her own life. To start grounding herself in re
ality again. But as she disconnected the call and keyed in the number Carlotta had given her to book a cab to the airport, her fighting spirit finally put in an appearance.

  Her fingers paused on the buttons.

  Why was she making this so easy for Gio? Why was she letting him call all the shots, even now?

  By keeping quiet about her feelings earlier, by trying to be mature and sensible and take things slowly she’d played right into his hands.

  She’d been prepared to give Gio everything—not just her body, but her heart and her soul too. And even if he didn’t want them, or the family and the life they could build together, didn’t she at least owe it to herself to tell him how she felt?

  After getting an address for Gio’s office out of Carlotta, Issy booked a cab to take her to the airport. But when the cab arrived twenty minutes later she handed the driver the piece of notepaper with the Florence address scribbled on it, explaining in her faltering Italian that she needed to make a quick stop first.

  She had four hours before her flight. More than enough time to see Gio one last time and let him know exactly what he was chucking away.

  CHAPTER NINE

  EXHAUSTED, but determined, Issy walked into the domed reception area of the stunning glass and steel building on the banks of the Arno.

  She’d figured out exactly what she was going to say to Gio and exactly how she was going to say it during the drive into the city. She would be calm, poised and articulate, and would keep a tight grip on her emotions. Under no circumstances would she dissolve into a gibbering wreck as she had at seventeen and let Gio see her utterly destroyed.

  Because she wasn’t. She’d matured over the last ten years—enough to know that she had to accept the things she couldn’t change. However much it hurt. Because she couldn’t afford to spend another ten years pining over a man who had nothing to offer her.

  ‘Mi scusi, parle inglese, signor?’ she asked the perfectly groomed young man at the reception desk, praying he did speak English.

  ‘Yes, signorina. What can I do for you?’ he replied in heavily accented English.

  ‘I would like to see Giovanni Hamilton.’

  ‘Do you have an appointment?’

  ‘No, I’m…’ She stuttered to a halt, the heat spreading up her neck. ‘I’m a friend of his.’

  The young man didn’t show by a single flicker of his eyelashes what he thought of that statement, but the heat still hit Issy’s cheeks as her hard-fought-for composure faltered. How many other women had come to his offices like this? Looking for something he wasn’t going to give them?

  ‘I need to see him if at all possible,’ she soldiered on. ‘It’s extremely important.’

  To me, at least.

  She wasn’t sure if the receptionist believed her or simply took pity on her, but he sent her a sympathetic smile as he reached for the phone on his desk. ‘I will contact his office manager. What is your name?’

  ‘Isadora Helligan.’

  After conducting a brief conversation in Italian, the receptionist hung up the phone.

  ‘His office manager says he is at a site meeting, but if you would like to go up to the top floor she will contact him.’

  The stylish young men and women working on state-of-the-art computers and at large drawing easels stopped to watch as Issy walked through the huge open-plan office on the sixth floor—and her composure began to unravel completely.

  What was she doing here? Was this another of her hare-brained ideas that was destined to end up kicking her in the teeth? And how the hell was she going to stop herself dissolving into tears with a boulder the size of Mount Everest already lodged in her throat?

  Given her tenuous emotional state, she was extremely grateful when Gio’s calm, matronly officer manager, who also spoke English, ushered her into Gio’s office and informed her that Signor Hamilton had interrupted his meeting at the site office and would be with her in about ten minutes.

  Well, at least he wasn’t avoiding her.

  Unfortunately Gio’s office, which took up one whole corner of the floor, was made completely of glass. As she sat down on the green leather sofa adjacent to his desk, and stared out of the floor-to-ceiling window at the Florence cityscape, she could feel the eyes of all his employees burning into the back of her neck.

  After suffering from goldfish-in-a-bowl syndrome for an endless five minutes, she paced to the window and stared out at the Florence skyline, the enormity of the task ahead hitting her all over again.

  Did she really want to do this? If Gio dismissed her feelings, the way he had done ten years ago, how much harder would it be to pick up the pieces of her shattered heart?

  ‘Issy, this is a nice surprise. Why don’t I take you to lunch?’

  She lifted her head and saw Gio standing in the office doorway, his shirtsleeves rolled up and his suit trousers creased and flecked with mud. He looked rumpled and ridiculously pleased to see her. His impossibly handsome face relaxed into a sexy, inviting smile.

  Mount Everest turned into the Himalayas.

  How could she love him so much and not know whether he was even capable of loving her in return?

  ‘I don’t have time for lunch,’ she said, glad when her voice hardly faltered. ‘I dropped by to tell you I’m catching a flight home this evening.’

  The smile disappeared, to be replaced by a sharp frown. He closed the door and walked towards her. ‘What the hell for?’

  Tell him now. Tell him why.

  She tried to find the words, but the dark fury in his eyes shocked her into silence.

  ‘You’re not getting a flight home tonight…or tomorrow.’ He grasped her arm, hauled her against him. ‘You’re staying at the villa even if I have to tie you to the bloody bed.’

  ‘You can’t do that.’ She was so astonished the words came out on a gasp.

  ‘Don’t bet on it. This isn’t over. And until I decide it is you’re not going anywhere. So you’ll have to call your people and let them know.’

  ‘My…? What?’ she stammered, her mouth dropping open.

  ‘Dio!’ He let go of her arm and stalked past her, a stream of what she assumed were swear-words in Italian coming out of his mouth.

  Flinging the door open, he shouted something at a colleague. It was only then that she noticed every one in the office beyond was standing up at their desks and gawking at them. Some were whispering to each other, others were gaping in open curiosity. They’d all heard every word. And, knowing her luck, they probably all spoke perfect English.

  But as she stood there being stared at, while Gio’s office manager made an announcement to the staff, she simply didn’t have it in her to blush. So she and Gio had made a spectacle of themselves? So what? Frankly, she was past embarrassment and past caring what anyone else thought.

  She was too busy trying to figure out Gio’s temper tantrum.

  Clearly he hadn’t intended his note to be a thinly veiled invitation for her to go before he got home, as she had suspected.

  The news should have pleased her. But it didn’t.

  Why was he so angry with her? And what right did he have to order her about like that? Had she really been that much of a push-over that he thought he could treat her like his personal possession? This didn’t feel like good news. Had they ever really been friends? Or had that been an illusion too?

  She waited by the desk, folding her arms across her midriff to stop the tremors racking her body as she watched Gio’s employees troop off towards the lifts. Most of them glanced over their shoulders as they left, to get one last juicy look at the crazy lady.

  Five long minutes later they were entirely alone, the whole floor having been evacuated.

  He propped his butt on the desk, braced his hands on the edge. ‘Now, I want to know what’s going on.’ The stiff tone suggested he was making an effort to keep hold of his temper. ‘Why do you want to go home?’

  The question had the Himalayas rising up in her throat to choke her. But she couldn’t
tell him she loved him now. Not until she knew whether she had ever meant more than all the others.

  ‘Why do you want me to stay?’

  I want you to love me.

  The plea formed in Gio’s mind and he recoiled.

  He couldn’t say that. Now now. Not ever. He didn’t want her love. He didn’t want anyone’s love.

  After lying awake for hours this morning, listening to her sleep, he’d forced himself to leave the house in a desperate attempt to put the whole fiasco out of his head.

  Unfortunately burying himself in work hadn’t had the effect he’d hoped. Instead of forgetting about her, he’d missed her even more than yesterday. To the point where, when his manager had called to say she’d arrived to see him, he’d broken off an important site meeting to rush back and take her to lunch.

  And then she’d told him she was leaving and he’d lost it completely.

  He was behaving like a lovesick fool. Which was preposterous. He wasn’t in love. He couldn’t let himself be in love.

  ‘What do I want?’ he replied. ‘I want what I’ve always wanted.’ He sank his fingers into her hair, drew her mouth close to his, vindicated by the flash of arousal in her eyes.

  Her lips parted instinctively, but as he plundered she dragged her mouth away, staggered back.

  ‘That’s not good enough,’ she said, the deep blue eyes turbulent with emotion. ‘Not any more. I can’t stay just for the sex.’

  ‘Why not? It’s what we do best,’ he said, unable to prevent the bitter edge in his voice.

  She’d tricked him into this—just as she’d tricked him into going to that christening yesterday. And now he was paying the price.

  She flinched as if he’d struck her. ‘Because I want more than that.’

  ‘There isn’t any more.’

  ‘Yes, there is. I love you.’

  He heard the words, and felt panic strangle him as the great gaping wounds he’d kept closed for so long were ripped open. ‘Don’t worry, you’ll get over it.’