Chapter Twelve
Stella leant on the railing of her balcony, watching the sun rise over the lake. Rosy fingers of light illuminated the sky and the villa’s magnificent garden.
Another time she’d have found the scene delightful. Now she felt as if she’d swallowed a swarm of fire ants. She was jittery, pinpricks peppering her body and her face awash with the shame of remembrance.
How could she have behaved so? Where was her pride?
She hadn’t acted sensibly. Not like a woman with an unborn child to care for. She hadn’t thought at all. She’d let emotions carry her away. When she was near Gio it was as if a switch flicked inside her. All the things she should do, the things she needed to consider, flew out of her head.
All night she’d tossed and turned, reliving their confrontation downstairs and the mad impulsive rush of lust that had brought them together.
It was a form of madness, her body’s craving for a man who’d treated her so badly. She wanted to hate him. She did hate him. Why couldn’t she fall pregnant to a decent, kind man instead of a manipulator? Why did it have to be Giancarlo Valenti who’d impregnated her?
Yet despite that, her feelings for her unborn child didn’t waver.
From the moment she’d discovered her pregnancy, even through her shock, she’d felt a warmth, a maternal instinct, she supposed, to nurture and love her baby.
The bond she’d felt to her mother had been unbreakable.
She wanted that with her child. She’d fight everything and everyone to ensure her baby was happy and safe from manipulative men, whether her father or the man who’d fathered this new life.
If only Gio weren’t still in the picture. It scared Stella that she hadn’t managed to rid herself of her need for him.
Remembering their furious coming together, she knew the heat engulfing her wasn’t solely due to shame. Once more her body betrayed her, aroused at the memory of him pinioning her with his body, slamming into her with a rough desperation that equalled her own.
Where was her self-respect?
Shaking her head, she turned her back on the million-dollar view and went inside. The bedroom was beautifully appointed and, most important, had a sturdy lock.
Not that she’d needed it. Her nemesis hadn’t followed her when she’d escaped up here yesterday. Nor had there been a knock in the night. He’d probably spent the evening laughing at how easily he’d played her and how weak she was.
Grinding her teeth, Stella strode into the dressing room.
Last night, looking for something to sleep in, she’d been amazed to discover it full of clothes.
Ones she’d left behind in his Amalfi villa, and more besides, hangers and drawers full of brand-new clothes, all in her size.
Even a collection of shoes and gossamer-fine underwear.
She’d rocked back on her feet, disconcerted by the thoughtful gesture. Or was it a demonstration of his power? That he’d prepared for her stay. Bringing her here when she’d never imagined spending time with him again.
Automatically she reached for a familiar sundress, then stopped. The dress had thin shoulder straps and a line of buttons Gio had once taken his time undoing, driving her crazy with his slow seduction.
She scanned the racks. Each of the items she’d left behind held memories of that intense time with him. Memories she had no intention of revisiting.
Good luck with that!
Her gaze drifted to the pile of satin and lace in the corner. When she’d finally got to the room yesterday she’d been desperate to get out of the wedding gown. The gown she’d worn while she let Gio take her.
Stop lying to yourself! You did as much taking as he did. You didn’t let him, you invited him, provoked him and gloried in the consequences.
Sanity had only returned when she got up here and crippling self-disgust filled her. Shivering, she’d been unable to undo the multitude of tiny buttons down the back. In the end she’d used nail scissors from the bathroom to cut herself free.
The trouble is you’re not scared of Gio Valenti. It’s yourself you have to worry about.
With that in mind she searched the hangers, finding a maxi dress in red. The colour would give her confidence. It left her shoulders bare but the high neck suited her and didn’t lend itself to seduction.
Stella smoothed her hand protectively over her abdomen, awed by her just-developing baby bump. A familiar mix of wonder and protectiveness strengthened her resolve. She’d been weak around Gio but no more. There was too much at stake now.
Today she’d confront him, deal with whatever needed to be done and move on with her life.
She had a future to build, one that didn’t include Gio Valenti.
She was sitting under a shaded pergola, nibbling at a breakfast the housekeeper had provided, when she heard familiar footsteps. Her nape prickled and her breath snagged but she reached for her juice and took a long sip.
He sat opposite, making the table seem suddenly too small. To her horror, his tousled hair and the dark shadow on his jaw reminded her of those glorious mornings when she’d woken up naked beside him. And of what happened yesterday.
Beneath the high neck of her dress her skin tingled, courtesy of beard burn from yesterday’s encounter.
It should sharpen her resolve to keep her distance, yet still she devoured the sight of him.
Even the grooves of discontent around his mouth and the shadows under his eyes didn’t detract from his bone-deep good looks.
‘We need to talk.’ His voice was gravel-edged and played on her senses like fingers on a guitar string.
‘Yes.’ But she wasn’t ready to discuss the baby. First there were things she needed to understand. ‘Yesterday you accused me of lying. Why?’
He shook his head. ‘Oh, come on, Stella. Don’t play games. You know why.’
‘Because you hate my father.’
She still found it hard to believe that the urbane, thoughtful, engaging man she’d met in Rome should be so twisted by the need to best her father.
Gio frowned. ‘No one could blame me for despising your father, given his past crimes. But I don’t let that dictate my actions.’
Past crimes? Stella stiffened, a sick feeling stirring. Her father was a hard man, respected but feared too. What had he done? Or were Gio’s words designed to confuse her?
‘What made you treat me the way you did? You seduced me. Your investigators invaded my privacy. You used me.’
‘I used you? It was the other way around.’
‘Stop talking in riddles. For once just be honest with me. Or is that beyond your capabilities?’ She gripped the edge of the table with both hands. ‘Why did you make my acquaintance? You did it deliberately.’
She’d had time to realise that the coincidence of the meeting had been no coincidence at all. She’d been played. How na?ve, how ridiculous she’d been with her belief in him and her trusting ways. She swallowed hard, forcing the words out. ‘Why take me to your villa?’
She almost asked why he’d taken her to bed but already knew the answer. Why wouldn’t he take what she’d so eagerly given? He must have been laughing at her the whole time. Her insides curdled.
‘To find out what you were up to, of course. Why your father sent you.’
Stella frowned. ‘He didn’t send me. I went to Rome to get away from him.’
Searing grey eyes met hers. She saw confusion there, until a shutter came down, making his expression unreadable. ‘So it was your own idea to spy.’
‘Spy!’ She jerked back in her seat. ‘On what? The Colosseum? I was taking a break.’
Gio planted his hands on the table and leaned over, invading her space, his impatience thickening the air so it felt weighted, making it harder to breathe.
‘How convenient you should take a break in my new hotel. The place where I’d just relocated my corporate headquarters, where all sorts of confidential reports and contracts are stored.
How convenient that you didn’t check in as Stella Barbieri, but used what I later discovered was your mother’s name.
That you insisted I call you just Stella, and never wanted to discuss your family or work. ’
Stella gaped. ‘You think I was a corporate spy? I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous.’
His gaze held hers in an unbreakable stare.
‘Your behaviour was suspicious from the start. My manager recognised you and reported how interested you were in how the hotel was run. You took every opportunity to grill staff about their routines and how the place worked. Any detail you could get on its inner workings.’
She opened her mouth but before she could say anything he swept on.
‘And there was that ridiculous charade of you pacing the corridors in the middle of the night. Every floor, every space you could get into. But your real aim was the security door leading from the hotel to my headquarters. Such a shame for you that you couldn’t get in.’
His glare turned laser sharp, boring into her. ‘What would you have done if you’d been able to enter, Stella? Snooped for secrets? Copied files? Were you trying to prove your worth to your father? Hoping for a promotion with stolen information?’
Stella blinked, her vision narrowing, black shadows closing around her. She felt woozy and suddenly his voice seemed to come from a long way away.
‘All that time you pretended not to know who I was.’ His tone was scathing. ‘Did you think I’d share secrets with you once we shared a bed?’
She swallowed hard, but it didn’t work. The nausea was too strong.
‘Stella?’
She barely registered him say her name as she shoved her chair back, the legs screeching against paving stones. As for the concern she thought she heard, she couldn’t delude herself any more.
She shot to her feet and into the house, one hand to her mouth. Stumbling, she made it to the powder room with his footsteps just behind her.
Frantic, her skin prickling and clammy, she slammed the door and latched it as the little bit of breakfast she’d swallowed rose in her throat.