Oh, she’d been furious in the cathedral, but hadn’t part of her revelled in the idea of him whisking her off to be with him?
She’d thought herself too sensible to yearn for a man who’d lied to her, using her in one-upmanship against her father. But the trickle of delight she’d felt beneath her outrage told its own story.
For, even knowing he’d duped her, Stella had discovered something about herself—that she felt deeply. That some emotions couldn’t easily be wiped away, despite the pain of betrayal.
Somehow, in the short time they’d been together, she’d fallen for Gio Valenti. It shouldn’t be so. Maybe it was a product of all those years yearning for love that her father and half-siblings refused to bestow. Whatever the reason, she’d felt far more for Gio than should have been possible.
Her mouth turned down and she pressed a hand to her lips, ashamed of the way they quivered. She hadn’t shed a tear over Giancarlo Valenti or the way he’d hurt her. She refused to start now.
Besides, now she had a weapon to fight him. Her weakness was also her strength. Back in his Amalfi villa she’d fancied herself falling for him. Now that would be her defence, for the other side of love was hatred, and she hated this man with every atom of her being.
Stella clung to that lifeline. Whatever happened, she’d get through it. He couldn’t hurt her more than he already had.
She couldn’t have dozed off. Not with the roar of the helicopter and the churning of her thoughts. But she did close her eyes and maybe the vibration lulled her a little.
When she opened her eyes blue mountains rose ahead and below was the silvery shimmer of water. Not the sea but a large lake. Here and there, buildings clustered around the edge. She saw the creamy wake of a boat cutting across the water.
‘Where are we?’ Her voice was croaky from disuse.
‘Lake Como. I have a villa here.’
Of course he did. It was a magnet for the rich and famous, their private estates clustering around the scenic shores.
It took everything she had to suppress a shudder of anxiety at how far she was from home. How totally she was at his mercy. ‘Am I supposed to be impressed? We could have had our conversation in Sicily.’
He shook his head. ‘And have your family barge in? I think not. No one will interrupt us here.’
Was that satisfaction gleaming in his eyes?
Stella swallowed. All through this flight she’d told herself not to panic. Once they’d talked he’d have her delivered…wherever she wanted to go. If only she knew where that was. She wasn’t ready to face her outraged family, but she’d work something out. She wasn’t a prisoner. She’d chosen to come.
Yet she found her mouth dry, her throat tight, knowing she’d made a stupid decision, fleeing with him. Without so much as a phone or money.
Of course it was stupid! You should have stayed and married Eduardo.
Stella didn’t want to think about her impulse to get into Gio’s car, then his helicopter. She knew she wouldn’t like the reason.
But it was too late for regrets. The chopper descended towards a helipad near a large and rather beautiful villa. It sat resplendent on the lake’s edge with its own jetty, surrounded by vast, ornamental gardens.
Time to face the music.
She’d do anything to protect her baby. If necessary she’d lie and say it was Eduardo’s.
She wouldn’t,couldn’t, let Gio, who had the same ruthless, conniving tendencies as her father, find out she was carrying his child.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Gio paced thelarge salon, as stirred up as when he’d seen Stella at the altar, marrying another man.
He should have his emotions under control. That was his specialty, working hard and living life to the full but never getting entangled in sentiment or deep feelings.
Today he was nothingbutfeelings. He didn’t know what to do with himself, or how to master his conflicting impulses.
There was a rustle of sound and he swung around. Stella stood in the doorway, the long veil discarded and her hair pulled back in a tight, sleek arrangement that emphasised her bone structure and the softness of her lips.
Or perhaps that was simply his unruly libido noticing. She might have seemed fragile if it weren’t for the aggressive set of her chin and her eyes’ hard glitter. Obviously she’d used the time in the bathroom to shore up her defences. In the chopper she’d looked disturbingly unguarded.
He gestured to the comfortable chairs and the refreshments his housekeeper had brought. ‘Come in. Take a seat.’
