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 youjust 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.
Stella took her time. She waited until the trembling subsided and that dreadful light-headed feeling too. The nausea was familiar because she’d had a touch of morning sickness now and then but the faintness was new.
A bitter laugh escaped as she viewed her hollow-eyed reflection in the mirror. She looked as if a strong breeze might knock her off her feet. It wasn’t the image she wanted to project.
But she’d been here long enough. She refused to hide.Shedidn’t have anything to feel guilty about.
Even so, it took all her resolve to stand tall and meet Gio’s eyes when she stepped into the hall. Once she might have been taken in by his look of concern. Now she didn’t trust herself to believe what she thought she saw.
‘Come, I’ll help you to your room. The doctor’s on her way.’
‘I don’t need a doctor.’
His mouth set in an implacable line. ‘You looked like you were going to faint and I heard you retching.’
Stella folded her arms. ‘Being accused of dishonesty and corporate sabotage doesn’t agree with me.’
Swiftly she turned away then halted as the room whirled around her.
‘Don’t be obstinate.’ His voice came from just behind her, his breath feathering her neck. ‘Think of the baby. Isn’t that more important than arguing with me?’
She blinked, the backs of her eyes hot and her throat constricting.
He was right. She couldn’t bear it if anything happened to her precious child. Even knowing its father was all she despised, she loved it with her whole heart.
She heaved a shuddering breath and finally nodded. ‘Okay. I’ll see the doctor. Alone.’
To Gio’s credit he didn’t argue. Even when she refused to let him carry her upstairs—she didn’t think she could stomach his touch—he acquiesced. But it might have been easier to let him carry her. At least it would have been over quickly. For it was a slow process, climbing the stairs. Her legs felt weak and it didn’t help that he hovered at her side, his arm around her, not touching but so close she felt his warmth and the inevitable spark of awareness.
By the time they reached her room she felt done in, stress catching up with her. She didn’t even bother protesting when he accompanied her across the room, pouring a glass of water from the carafe on the bedside table.
‘You can go now.’
