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Elsie turned her head, feeling the burn of unshed tears under her eyelids. She had once believed you couldn’t crave what you could never have—now she knew that was a lie. She took her time working at the flaps on the box of bite-sized goodies to regain her composure.

‘Chuck that stuff,’ he recommended with a disparaging frown. ‘If you’re hungry I can get something sent up.’

Elsie immediately decided she’d eat every one.

The brandy he had poured barely covered the bottom of the glass. She wondered if this meant he had an international call scheduled or he was going back to his office to work, not that he ever drank much as far as she could tell.

‘So tonight went well.’

She gave a tense smile. This was a different perspective. At that moment, tonight felt like a total disaster.

‘Hopefully, unless they are very stupid, the next time they might think twice before trying to dress me.’

Leandro breathed through a slug of primitive lust he had zero control over as he visualised undressing her.

‘Or you might have your revenge by walking down the aisle in hot pants and thigh-high PVC boots? Now, that would be one for the family album,’ he mused, his eyes trailing up the long shapely length of her legs.

She tried to respond to the jokey image with a laugh, but could only manage a weak smile before she looked away. Leandro had made several comments about their prospective marriage this evening. Strangely, considering it was the reason she was here, it was a subject that, up to now, they had both seemed to be avoiding, but maybe, she brooded darkly, this was another of Leandro’s unilateral decisions. He’d probably already picked out her dress and flowers or, more likely, lumbered poor Franco with the task.

Nursing her resentment, she opened the box that lay on her knee, selected one of the prettily decorated bitefuls and bit into it, recognising, as she did so, that it was an act of petty defiance but unable to stop herself.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

HE WATCHED HER and rolled his eyes, then moved across to the French windows to let in the warm evening air and turned back. It took his brain a few seconds to translate what he was seeing.

Elsie, hands pressed to her neck, was surging to her feet, a rattling sound issuing from her blue lips.

Blue lips…choking…the details connected like dots in his head and he hit the ground literally running and a split second later he was beside her.

‘Epi…’ she gasped, making a fluttering gesture with her hand at the bag that lay discarded on the table by the door where she had flung it when they’d entered the room.

By the time he had tipped the contents on the floor she had dropped to her knees. He was shaking inside but his hands were steady as he sifted through the various items before locating the EpiPen she always carried.

The whistling sound as she fought to drag air into her lungs would live in his nightmares forever.

‘Right—it’s fine, just hang on.’ He knelt beside her and pushed the pen into her thigh. Where had he heard you had to count to ten? Or maybe he hadn’t, but he did it anyway.

She leaned into him.

‘That’s it,’ he soothed. ‘It’ll be fine…you’ll be fine, just breathe. That’s brilliant—just brilliant, well done…’

It was not brilliant, but he could hear a definite change in the sound of her whistling forced inhalations.

‘Better,’ she whispered indistinctly, forcing the word past a tongue that seemed to fill her mouth. Her head fell onto his shoulder as he lifted her up.

‘You look less blue…’

She nodded as he put her gently down on the sofa, pushing cushions behind her to prop her up.

‘No—don’t try to say anything.’

‘Second Epi in drawer if I pass…’ She shook her head, her chest heaving.

‘Hold on…’ he said, already speaking into his phone.

Elsie closed her eyes and nodded.

‘Help is on the way.’