Chapter Ten
Present day
Gio got in the back seat and slammed the door. The limo took off, accelerating so fast he and Stella were pushed hard against the back rest.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw a mob spill out of the cathedral, surging towards them. Two men swerved towards the bridal car, decorated with ribbons and flowers.
Ignoring them, Gio turned to the woman beside him. It was better to concentrate on Stella than the volcanic surge of his emotions. The sheer fury that just wouldn’t subside. He’d never known anything like it. It took time to master himself.
He’d seen his father give in to excess emotion and it had eventually destroyed him. Meanwhile Alfredo Barbieri lived and breathed a vendetta that could only diminish him since his enemy, Gio’s father, was already dead.
Gio saw the damage those two had wrought and long ago decided there was no place in his life for extreme emotion.
Yet here you are! All because of this woman.
Her skirts billowed around her as she yanked at the lace of her long veil, muttering as she freed it from beneath her skirts.
Under the reams of rich fabric she looked smaller than he remembered. The bodice clung to her breasts and torso and her face seemed more fine-boned than before.
But she was no delicate flower. Her jaw was set hard and high colour painted her face as she ruthlessly fought the encompassing folds of her lavish gown. Over the sound of mumbled swearing he heard fabric tear.
Abruptly she looked up, directly at him.
It was like a punch direct to his solar plexus.
Velvety brown eyes that had once looked at him with approval, laughter, even adoration, regarded him as if he were a rat that scuttled out of a sewer. A butcher’s knife was softer than her glare. He almost felt the slice of a honed blade flaying his skin as she surveyed him.
He was irate, furious with both himself and her, still not quite believing the lengths he’d gone to. Yet beneath the anger and disbelief was a spreading glow of satisfaction. Because Stella was here with him.
She’d tapped into a vein of primal instinct he hadn’t known he possessed.
Gio had strode down the aisle of the cathedral and the sight of her, simpering next to her handsome groom, had provoked an almost murderous rage.
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ She snapped the words as if biting off chunks of his flesh. ‘No, don’t bother answering. I already know. You’re trying to cause as much trouble and humiliation as possible for me and my family. You really are a piece of work, aren’t you, Signor Valenti?’
No one had ever addressed him with such dripping disdain. As if he’d been the one playing games.
The injustice almost choked him. ‘We need to talk.’
Her answer was a peal of laughter that went on and on, ending in a discordant sound that betrayed distress and made the hairs on his nape stand on end. Gio saw her chin wobble before she clapped a hand over her mouth.
Reflexively he reached for her, only to have her slap his hand away. ‘Don’t touch me. Don’t ever touch me again.’
‘You’ve changed your tune, cara. Time was you couldn’t get enough of my touch.’
It was a cheap shot but it was out before he’d even thought about it. Her passion had been utterly convincing, as if she’d been swept away by her need for him. Even knowing who she was, he’d been drawn into believing she couldn’t really be Barbieri’s spy.
Gio breathed deeply, summoning control, glancing at the privacy screen that cut them off from the driver.
‘You’re full of yourself, aren’t you?’ He hid a wince at the icy contempt frosting each word. ‘But tell me this—how did you know?’
She held herself as stiffly as a mannequin, as if the flesh and blood woman he’d held in his arms had disappeared.
‘About the wedding?’ He shrugged, tight muscles screaming with tension. ‘It was hardly a secret. You invited everybody who’s anybody. Every marchese and principessa. Every successful politician and billionaire.’
Stella’s lip curled. ‘Don’t tell me. You were upset you weren’t invited?’
Gio shook his head, still reeling at how close he’d come to arriving in Sicily too late.
When Stella left him he’d ordered a further strengthening of business security, deeper than the audit he’d instigated the day he’d discovered her staying in his hotel. He’d also ordered daily status reports on her movements, but cancelled them several weeks later.
He found he didn’t want regular updates on what she was doing in Sicily. Of how she’d dined with Eduardo Morosi. Of how she’d smiled up at him in the photo Gio had been sent. The pair had been leaving an upmarket restaurant, leaning together as if enjoying a tender moment.
Yet yesterday, when Gio’s PA had casually mentioned today’s grand wedding, Gio had acted instantly.
He’d been on a remote Malaysian island, visiting what would hopefully become a small, incredibly exclusive resort in his portfolio.
Within an hour he’d been on a seaplane heading for Kuala Lumpur.
Then an overnight flight to Italy, barely making it here in time.
If he’d been a few minutes later…
Conflicting emotions tore at him. Shock at his actions but relief too. And above all, rage.
‘A wedding like that takes months, years to plan. This was no spur-of-the-moment event.’
It was his turn to scorch her with his contempt. But she didn’t shrink away, merely pushed her shoulders back and stared at him from under arched eyebrows, as if daring him to continue.
‘So what was I, Stella? A last fling? A little excitement before settling down with your stuffed shirt husband? Or an attempt to ingratiate yourself with your father, slipping into his enemy’s bed and hoping to find me easy prey?’
Now he saw a reaction. Those brown eyes turned huge in a face that abruptly paled but for two high spots of colour on her cheeks. The flowers sewn on her veil and dress trembled. The pulse at her throat throbbed and her clenched hands were white knuckled.
‘You’re completely despicable!’
Gio permitted himself a smile, as if he were amused rather than strung out, grappling to master this situation and his unruly urges. ‘You said that when we got in the car. Can’t you do better?’
It worked. That terrible, haunted look on her face disappeared. Though he knew her expression was probably fabricated, he hated seeing it, as if his words had mortally wounded her.
She shook her head. ‘You don’t like repetition? Bad luck. I still want to know how you knew.’
He frowned. The wedding was common knowledge, even if he hadn’t known about it until the last minute. ‘Half of Italy knew about it.’
‘Not the wedding. The baby. How did you know?’
Gio’s brain took a second to digest her words. Another second to make sense of them. Even then he couldn’t believe what she’d said.
She didn’t sound or look smug. She looked stressed. Or was she an even better liar than he’d thought?
His heart skipped a beat. It couldn’t be true! It had to be another scam. ‘You’re saying there’s actually a baby?’
Stella’s eyes rounded. Her mouth dropped open and her breasts rose on a shuddery inhale. She looked as stunned as he felt. ‘But you said in the church… You defied any man to step between you and your child.’
His child.
A curious sensation stirred in Gio’s chest and belly. His lungs tightened, constricted by some powerful force. There was a thrumming in his ears.
A baby? They’d had sex often enough. Gio had never thought of himself as insatiable, but the word fitted. He’d run out of condoms and had to buy more because he was always scrupulous about protection.
He stared at the puffy layers of her skirt. It was impossible to make out her shape beneath them. It was months since she’d left him. Time enough for a pregnancy to show? He had no idea.
His flesh grabbed tight across his bones and his stomach somersaulted. Emotion smacked him back in his seat.
She’s not pregnant. She’s just trying to mess with your head. She’s a Barbieri, brought up to hate you and do everything she can to bring you down. Inventing a pregnancy is just a ploy to put you off.
Yet even knowing that, Gio couldn’t walk away from her. Couldn’t let her walk away from him and into the arms of another man. Not yet. Silently he cursed the hold she had over him.
‘A baby?’ He shook his head. ‘Impossible. I said what was needed to get you out of there.’
For months everything had seemed wrong. He couldn’t concentrate.
His temper was uncharacteristically short and he’d been prey to strange moods.
He’d once been a man who found certainty came easily.
But recently certainty had deserted him Until he heard about Stella’s impending wedding and instantly knew the right course of action.
Even if he refused to interrogate his reasons and put a name to that impulse.
He’d never felt so sure about anything as he’d been about stopping the marriage.
‘You mean what you said back there was all a sham? You didn’t think I was pregnant?
You just waded in and made a fool of me for the sheer fun of it?
’ Her voice dropped and her hand went to her throat in a gesture of acute vulnerability that he felt like a fist to his chest. ‘What sort of man are you? I thought I had some idea, but to do that… You must really hate me and my family.’
There it was again, not just fury and indignation, but hurt in her voice and expressive eyes. It seemed so real he felt sick in the gut.
‘You didn’t want to marry him anyway.’
Her pale face blushed then paled again. She opened her mouth then closed it as if he’d stolen her ability to speak.
Instead of making him feel better, Stella’s silence stirred doubt deep inside. And guilt. She couldn’t really have wanted to marry Morosi. He didn’t believe it.
‘Well, that’s all right then, isn’t it? Since you know what I want without even asking. What remarkable powers of perception you have.’
Gio ground his teeth, hating her sarcasm. Hating that, despite everything, he still needed her.