Читать книгу Deserving of His Diamonds? - Melanie Milburne, Melanie Milburne - Страница 7

EMILIO was sitting in a café in Rome not far from his office when he finally found out the truth. His chest seized as he read the article about twin girls who had been separated at birth due to an illegal adoption. The article was journalism at its best: an intriguing and poignant account of how identical twins had finally been reunited, quite by chance, after a shop attendant mistook one for the other in a Sydney department store.

One mistaken for the other …

Emilio ignored his coffee and sat back in his chair and looked out at the bustling city crowds wandering past. Tourists and workers, young and old, married and single—everyone going about their business, totally unaware of the shock that was consuming him until he could scarcely breathe.

It hadn’t been Gisele in the sex tape.

His throat felt as if a spanner were going down sideways. He had been so adamant about it, so stubborn. He had not listened to Gisele’s protestations of innocence. He had refused to listen. She had begged and pleaded with him to believe in her, but he had not.

He had got it wrong.

She had cried. She had screamed. She had pummelled at his chest with tears pouring down her face, and yet he had walked away. He had cut all contact with her. He had sworn on his life he would never see or speak to her again.

He had got it wrong.

Emilio’s company had almost folded over the scandal. He’d had to work so hard to get back to where he was today. Eighteen-hour, sometimes twenty-four-hour days, sleepless nights, endless travel, jet lag so bad he didn’t sleep properly any more, no matter how utterly exhausted he was. He went from project to project like an automaton, putting in the hours, signing up the deals, paying off the debts and then finally banking the millions, his drive to succeed knowing no bounds.

And for all this time he had blamed Gisele.

He had fuelled his hatred of her every day since. It had festered inside him like a gangrenous wound. He had felt it in every pore of his body. Every time he had thought of her the temperature of his wrath had risen. It had burned like a roaring furnace deep inside him. It had blazed like wild flames through his veins. Some days it had almost consumed him. It had been like a fever he could not control.

His gut clenched with a fist of guilt. He had always prided himself on never making an error of judgement. He aimed—some would say ruthlessly—for perfection in every area of his life. Failure was anathema to him.

And yet with Gisele he had got it wrong.

Emilio looked at his phone. He still had her number in his contacts. He had left it there as a reminder to trust no one, to let no one under his guard. He had never thought of himself as the sentimental type, but when he brought her details to the screen his fingers shook slightly as they hovered over her name. Somehow calling out of the blue to say sorry didn’t seem the right way to handle things. He owed her a face-to-face apology. It was the least he could do. He wanted to erase that mistake, to draw a line through it and move on with his life.

He clicked on his phone’s rapid dial instead and called his secretary. ‘Carla, cancel all of my appointments for the next week and get me a flight to Sydney as soon as you can,’ he said. ‘I have some urgent business to see to there.’

Gisele was showing a first time mother the handmade christening gown she had embroidered when Emilio Andreoni came in. Seeing him standing there, so tall, so out of place in her baby clothes boutique made her heart leap to her throat like a gymnast on an overused trampoline.

She had practised this day over in her head just in case he took it upon himself to apologise once he found out about her long-lost identical twin. She had imagined how vindicated she would feel that he would have to admit he had got it wrong about her. She had imagined she would look at him and feel nothing, nothing but the bitter hatred of him for his cruel and ruthless rejection and his inexcusable lack of trust.

And yet that first glimpse of him sent a shockwave through her that made her feel as if the floor beneath her feet were suddenly shifting. Emotions she had bolted down with bitter determination suddenly popped against their restraints. One by one she could feel them spreading through her, making her chest ache with the weight of them. How could it physically hurt to see someone face to face? How could her heart feel pain like a stab wound at seeing his tall, imposing frame standing there? How could her insides clench and twist when his coal-black eyes met hers?

Gisele had seen him in the press several times since their break-up and although each time it had made her feel a tight sort of ache, it had felt nothing like the raw, claw-scraping pain of this.

He still had the same darkly tanned olive skin. The same Roman nose, the same penetrating dark brown eyes, the same intractable jaw that right now looked as if it hadn’t seen a razor in the last thirty-six hours. The slightly wavy black hair was a little longer than the last time she had seen him—it was curling around the collar of his shirt and it looked as if his fingers had been the last thing that had moved through it. There were bruiselike shadows beneath his thickly lashed bloodshot eyes, no doubt put there by yet another sleepless night out with one of his one-night stand bimbo bedmates, she imagined.

‘Excuse me …’ she said to the young mother. ‘I won’t be a minute.’

Gisele walked over to where he was standing next to the premature baby clothes. He had one of his hands on a tiny vest that had a pink rosebud with little green leaves embroidered at the neck. The vest looked so tiny against his hand and it occurred to her then that Lily would have been too small for it when she had been born.

‘Can I help you with something?’ she asked with a brittle look.

Emilio’s eyes meshed with hers, holding them captive. ‘I think you know why I am here, Gisele,’ he said in that deep, rich voice she had missed so much. It moved along her skin like a caress, settling at the base of her spine like a warm pool of slowly spreading honey.

Gisele had to fight hard to keep her emotions in check. This was not the time to show him she was still affected by him, even if it was only physically. She had to be strong, to show him he hadn’t destroyed her life with his lack of trust. She had to show him she had moved on, that she was self-sufficient and successful. She had to show him he meant nothing to her now. She drew in a breath and lifted her chin, keeping her voice cool and composed. ‘Of course.’ She gave him an impersonal on-off movement of her lips that was nowhere near a smile. ‘How could I forget? The two-for-one sale on all-in-one suits we have on at the moment. You can have blue, pink or yellow. I’m afraid we’re all out of the white.’

His gaze never once wavered from hers; it was as dark and mesmerising as ever. ‘Is there somewhere we could talk in private?’ he asked.

Gisele straightened her shoulders. ‘As you can see I have customers to see to,’ she said, indicating with a waft of her hand the young woman browsing along the racks.

‘Are you free for lunch?’ he asked, still watching her steadily.

Gisele wondered if he was studying her for flaws. Could he see the way her once creamy skin had lost its glow? Could he see the shadows below and in her eyes that no amount of make-up could disguise? He had always prized perfection. Not just in his work but in every facet of his life. He would find her sadly lacking now, she thought, in spite of her name and reputation finally being cleared. ‘I own and run this business,’ she said with more than a hint of pride. ‘I don’t take a lunch break.’

Gisele saw his dark critical gaze sweep over the baby wear boutique she had bought a few weeks after he had cut her from his life just days before their wedding. Building it up from yet another struggling suburban retail outlet to the successful exclusive affair it was now had been the only thing that had got her through the heartbreak of the past two years.

Some well meaning friends, along with her mother, had suggested it would have been better to have sold the business as soon as she had been told Lily wasn’t going to make it, but somehow, in her mind, holding on to the shop was a way to hold on to her fragile little daughter for just that little bit longer. She felt close to Lily here, surrounded by the handmade blankets and bonnets and booties she made for other babies to wear. It was her only connection now with motherhood and she wasn’t going to relinquish it in spite of the pain it caused to see those brand-new prams being pushed through the door day after day. No one knew how hard it was for her to look and not touch those precious little bundles inside. No one knew how long at night she clung to the bunny blanket she had made for Lily’s tiny body to be wrapped in during those few short hours of her life.

Emilio’s eyes came back to connect with hers. ‘Dinner then,’ he said. ‘You don’t work past six, do you?’

Gisele watched in irritation as the young mother left the shop, no doubt put off by Emilio’s brooding presence. She sent him a glare. ‘Dinner is out of the question,’ she said. ‘I have another engagement.’

‘Are you involved with someone?’ he asked, pinning her with his eyes.

She worked hard at keeping her composure. Did he really think she would have dived headfirst into another relationship after what he had done to her? She often wondered if she would ever feel safe in a relationship again. But she daren’t admit to her singleton status. She had a feeling he wasn’t just here to apologise and to clear the air between them. She could see it in the dark magnetic pull of his gaze. She could sense it in the atmosphere, the way the air she shared with him thickened with each breath she took into her lungs. Damn it, she could even feel it in her traitorous body as it reacted to his dark, disturbing presence the way it had always done in the past. Her senses went on full alert, her legs giving a little tremble as she thought of how he had taught her all she knew about physical intimacy, how it had been his body and his alone that had shown her what hers had been capable of in giving and receiving pleasure. ‘I can’t see how that is any of your business,’ she said with a hoist of her chin.

A muscle flexed beside his mouth. ‘I know this is hard for you, Gisele,’ he said. ‘It’s hard for me too.’

‘Meaning you never thought you’d ever have to apologise to me for getting it wrong?’ she asked with a cutting look. ‘Hate to say I told you so.’

His expression immediately became shuttered, closed off, remote. ‘I’m not proud of how I ended things,’ he said. ‘But you would have done the same if things were the other way around.’

‘You’re wrong, Emilio,’ she said. ‘I would have looked high and low for an alternative explanation for how that tape came about.’

‘For God’s sake, Gisele,’ he said roughly. ‘Do you think I didn’t look for an explanation? You told me you were an only child. You didn’t even know you had a twin. How was I supposed to come up with something as bizarre as that? I looked at that tape and I saw you. I saw the same silver-blonde hair, the same grey-blue eyes, even the same mannerisms. I had no choice but to believe what I was seeing.’

‘You did have a choice,’ Gisele said, shooting him a blistering glare. ‘You could have believed me in spite of, not because of, the evidence. But you didn’t love me enough to trust me. You didn’t love me at all. You just wanted a perfect wife to hang off your arm. That wretched tape tarnished me so I was of no further use to you. It wouldn’t have mattered if the truth had come out in two minutes or two hours instead of two years. Your business was always going to be the priority. You put it before everything.’

‘I put my business on hold to come out here to see you,’ he said, frowning at her broodingly.

‘You’ve seen me, so now you can jump back on your private jet and fly all the way back,’ she said, sending him a haughty look as she spun on her heel.

‘Damn it, Gisele,’ he said, snagging one of her arms to stall her.

Gisele felt the steely grip of his long, strong fingers on her bare arm as he turned her back to face him. His touch was like a flame. It seared her skin like a brand. Every nerve flinched beneath her skin. She felt her stomach go hollow as his eyes locked on hers. She didn’t want to lose herself in that glittering dark gaze. Not again. Once was enough. It had been her downfall, falling for a man with the inability to love and trust.

She didn’t want him this close.

She could smell the heat of him, the sharp and heady cocktail of musk and male and lemon-based aftershave that made her nostrils flare and tingle. She could see the black pepper of the stubble on his jaw and her fingers suddenly itched to feel that sexy rasp under the soft pads of her fingertips. She could see the grim line of his beautifully sculptured mouth. The mouth that had wreaked such havoc on her senses from the very first time he had kissed her. She only had to close her eyes to remember how it felt to have those hard, insistent lips press down on hers …

She snapped out of her reverie like an elastic band that had been stretched too far. That same mouth had vilified her cruelly. Her ears still rang with his hateful, unforgettable, unforgivable words. There was no way she was going to let him off lightly, if at all. Her life had come undone the day he had cut her adrift. She had been so devastated and alone. Her happy future had suddenly been ripped away from her without warning. She had been shattered by his accusations. She had been left so raw with pain she had barely been able to drag herself through each agonising day.

Finding out she was pregnant a couple of months after she had returned to Sydney had been her only glimmer of hope in that very dark place she had found herself in. But then that hope had been cruelly dashed a few weeks later at the second ultrasound. She had always wondered if that was her punishment for not telling Emilio about the pregnancy. He had forbidden all contact after their break-up, but she had been too devastated and hurt to even try.

And too angry.

She had wanted to punish him for not believing in her. She still wanted to punish him. It was like a rod of steel inside her. The only thing holding her upright was her fury and resentment and hatred towards him. Nothing was going to melt it.

‘Why are you making this harder than it already is?’ Emilio asked.

Gisele needed the trench of her anger to hide in and the deeper and dirtier the better. ‘You think you can breeze in here and issue some half-hearted apology and I’ll forgive you?’ she asked. ‘I’ll never forgive you. Do you hear me? Never.’

The line of his mouth was grim. ‘I don’t expect you to forgive me,’ he said. ‘I do, however, expect you to act like an adult and hear me out.’

‘I’ll act like an adult when you stop restraining me like an out of control child,’ she said, shooting him a livid look. ‘Let go of my arm.’

His fingers softened their hold but he didn’t release her. Gisele felt her heart give a nervous flutter as the broad pad of his thumb slid down to her pulse. Could he feel the thud of those hit-and-miss beats? She surreptitiously moistened her mouth but his gaze caught the movement. His eyes darkened, the pupils disappearing into the chocolate-brown of his irises. She knew that look so well. It triggered a visceral reaction in her body. The pulse of longing was like a lightning strike to that secret place between her thighs. Every erotically sensual moment they had ever shared flashed through her brain like a film on fast-forward. Those sensually provocative images made a mockery of every paltry attempt she had made to keep herself immune. What hope of immunity when one look from those dark eyes made her blood rush through her veins at breakneck speed?

‘Have dinner with me tonight,’ he said.

‘I told you I already have an engagement,’ she said, not quite meeting his eyes.

Emilio tipped up her chin with his other hand, his eyes dark and penetrating as they held hers. ‘And I know you are lying,’ he said.

‘What a pity you weren’t such a hotshot detective two years ago,’ she threw back resentfully as she finally managed to break free. She stood and pointedly rubbed at her wrist, still glaring at him.

‘I’ll pick you up at seven,’ he said. ‘Where do you live?’

Gisele felt a bolt of panic rush through her. She didn’t want him at her flat. That was her private sanctuary, the one place she felt safe enough to let out her grief. Besides, how would she explain all the photos of Lily? It was much better to leave him ignorant of their baby’s short life. She wasn’t ready to tell him. She would never be ready to tell him. How could she cope with the pain of him telling her she should have had a termination as she had been advised? It had been hard enough hearing it from her mother and some of her friends. Emilio wouldn’t have wanted a child who wasn’t perfect. It wouldn’t have suited his plan for a perfectly ordered life.

‘You don’t seem to be getting the message, Emilio,’ she said with a defiant look. ‘I don’t want to see you again. Not tonight. Not tomorrow night. Not ever. You’ve apologised. End of story. Now, please leave before I have you evicted by Security.’

His expression was faintly mocking. ‘What Security?’ he asked. ‘Anyone could walk in here and empty your cash register while your back was turned and you wouldn’t be able to do a single thing to stop them. You don’t even have CCTV cameras installed.’

Gisele pressed her lips together, hating him for pointing out what he obviously perceived as a flaw in her personality. Her mother … her adoptive mother, she corrected herself, had communicated much the same thing only a few days ago, saying she was far too trusting with her customers. It didn’t come naturally to Gisele to mistrust people, but then wasn’t that why her life had ended up the way it had? She had been so naive and trusting with Emilio and it had backfired spectacularly.

Emilio continued to study her for a lengthy moment. ‘Have you been ill recently?’ he asked.

Gisele suddenly froze, caught off guard by that dark penetrating gaze that refused to let hers go. ‘Um … why do you ask that?’

‘You look pale and much thinner than when we were together,’ he said.

‘Not quite up to your impeccable standards any more?’ she said, giving him a hardened look. ‘What a lucky escape you had in calling off our wedding. It wouldn’t suit your image to be married to a frump, now, would it?’

Another heavy frown appeared between his brows. ‘You misunderstand me,’ he said. ‘I was simply commenting on your pallor, not your lack of beauty. You are still one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen.’

It was amazing how easily cynicism came to Gisele now. In the past she would have blushed and felt incredibly flattered by such a compliment. Now all she felt was a simmering fury that he was trying to charm her into forgiving him. He was wasting his time and hers. Forgiveness was a word she had long ago deleted from her vocabulary.

She walked over to the shop service counter and barricaded herself behind it. ‘You can save your shallow compliments for someone who will believe them enough to fall into your bed,’ she said. ‘It’s not going to work with me.’

‘Is that why you think I am here?’ he asked.

Gisele felt herself being swallowed by that charcoal-black unreadable gaze. The air seemed to be charged with an erotic energy she had no control over. Her hands gripped the edge of the counter for support, her heart beating too hard and too fast as his hooded gaze slipped to her mouth.

She held her breath in that infinitesimal moment as his gaze rested on her lips.

His gaze was like a touch. It burned her with its intent. She felt the tingle of her lips as if he had reached across the counter and pressed his mouth to hers …

But her best friend cynicism came to her rescue just in time. ‘I think you are here to clear your conscience,’ she said. ‘You’re not here because of me. You’re here because of you.’

His expression gave no clue to what was going on behind the screen of his dark eyes, but a tiny nerve twitched at the edge of his mouth as if it were being tugged by an invisible needle and thread.

It seemed a very long time before he spoke.

‘I am here for both of us,’ he said. ‘I want to wipe the slate clean. Neither of us can truly move on with our lives with this lying like a festering sore between us.’

Gisele put up her chin with cool hauteur. ‘I have moved on with my life,’ she said.

His eyes challenged hers for endless seconds, but when he finally spoke his voice was gruff. ‘Have you, cara? Have you really?’

Was it his unexpectedly gentle tone or his use of an all too familiar endearment that made her throat suddenly close over as if someone had gripped it and cruelly squeezed? She blinked against the sting of tears, once, twice, three times before she was confident they were not going to break through. ‘Of course,’ she said coldly. ‘Or would you rather I said I’d been pining for you forlornly ever since you cut me from your life?’

‘That would indeed be a punishment I would not like to have inflicted on me,’ he said with a rueful movement of his lips. ‘It would make the guilt I feel all the harder to bear.’

Gisele looked at him standing there, so tall, so assured, the master of all he controlled. Was he really feeling guilty or just annoyed at being wrong for once in his life? He was a fiercely proud man. She had met no one prouder or more stubborn. ‘You can sleep easy, Emilio,’ she said. ‘After the way you treated me I put you out of my mind as soon as I stepped off the plane. I haven’t thought of you in months.’

He held her look for a heartbeat longer than she would have liked. ‘I’ll be in town for the rest of the week,’ he said, handing her a business card. ‘If you change your mind about meeting with me, please feel free to call me at any time.’

Gisele took the silver-embossed card with a hand that trembled slightly as it came in contact with his. She curled her fingers around the card until its edges bit into her palm. ‘I won’t change my mind,’ she said with steely determination wrapped around each and every word.

She waited until he had left before she let out her breath in a long ragged stream. She looked at the card she had crushed in her hand. A sharp corner had broken the skin of her palm; a very timely reminder that if she allowed Emilio Andreoni too close again she would be the only one to get hurt.