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Gianni glanced at the laden tray. Then he glanced up at her, brilliant dark eyes cool, questioning, filling her with instant discomfiture. ‘I may not employ a chef here, but whatever I want I can afford to send out for,’ he reminded her with sardonic softness. ‘So why the hell did you feel the need to get out of bed at this hour to bake?’
Hot, mortified pink flooded Milly’s cheeks. She snatched the tray back off the bed, but she wanted to pitch it at him.
‘I don’t require cute little domesticated gestures from you now,’ Gianni added in measured addition.
The tray rattled in her tensing grasp. But for the two cups of hot coffee, she would definitely have dumped the lot on his lap. Shaken and angered by his volatile change of mood, Milly returned the tray to the kitchen. Why was Gianni behaving like this all of a sudden?
In bed, he had been so different. Dear heaven, why was she always so stupid around Gianni? In bed. Within those two simple words dwelt the explanation. The minute Gianni had satisfied that high-voltage sex drive of his, he just went right back to despising her again. Well, she refused to put up with that sort of treatment. She hadn’t sunk that low yet. Or had she?
Hadn’t she let Gianni fly her over for the night like a call-girl? A sure thing? She had definitely been a sure thing. Anguish infiltrated Milly at that acknowledgement. And hadn’t she played a full and uninhibited part in her own downfall? Tonight she had been his puppet on a string…his totally abandoned puppet on a string. She squirmed, fingers curling on the stack of plates she had left lying out on the counter.
‘Are you coming back to bed?’ Gianni enquired with studied casualness from the doorway.
As Milly turned, her eyes lit on him like burning blue stars. She grabbed up a plate and hurled it with all her might. Looking genuinely startled, Gianni ducked. The plate smashed bare inches from him. She sent a second plate flying with similar accuracy. ‘If I wanted to hit you, I could,’ she told him furiously. ‘So get out of here before I forget that violence is not an answer!’
Gianni straightened with admirable cool. ‘OK…if it’s that important, I’ll eat it,’ he breathed grittily.
Milly studied him with huge blue eyes and slowly shook her golden head. ‘Why are you so stupid?’ she whispered helplessly.
‘Why are you?’ Gianni responded, ice-cold.
Milly spun away, denying the cruel message in his diamond-hard eyes. He could make passionate love to her over and over again but he wouldn’t allow her to harbour the smallest illusion about the precise nature of their relationship out of bed. Sentimental touches of the ‘cute’ and ‘domesticated’ variety were out of line. When he had said he wanted everything the way it had once been between them, he had really been lying in his beautiful white teeth. All he really wanted was all the sex he could handle.
‘If I hurt your feelings, I’m sorry, but we need to start out straight,’ Gianni murmured flatly.
He’d done it deliberately. She knew he had rejected her stupid edible offering deliberately. But she also knew she didn’t want to force a major confrontation before they got married. Was that proof of her intelligence or proof of her cowardice?
Feeling wretched, she cleaned up the broken plates and then went back upstairs to the bedroom. A small jeweller’s box with a very impressive logo awaited her on her pillow. She lifted the tiny box and set it unopened on the cabinet.
Sliding into bed, she was careful not to even glance at Gianni, and she turned her back on him. She had let him see how much he had hurt her and that stung her pride.
‘It’s a ring,’ Gianni advanced, without any expression at all.
Grudging curiosity stirred Milly, because he had never given her a ring before. Reclaiming the box, she flipped it open on a spectacular ruby surrounded by diamonds.
She threaded the ring onto her right hand and said, with all the enthusiasm of a woman confronting a huge pile of dirty washing, ‘Fantastic. Thanks.’
‘You’re wearing it on the wrong finger,’ Gianni informed her drily.
Milly frowned. ‘Sorry?’
‘It’s an engagement ring,’ Gianni extended in a charged undertone.
Milly flipped right over to look at him, blue eyes rounded with incredulity. ‘An engagement ring?’
‘Why not? We’re getting married.’ His bold profile rigid, Gianni doused the lights.
End of discussion. In the darkness, Milly fingered her engagement ring with rather more interest than she had been prepared to show a minute earlier. A romantic gesture? She reddened. Hardly. A conventional one? Gianni had yet to mention when they would marry. Milly tensed at that belated realisation. Was it possible that this was going to be a very long engagement? The sort of engagement that went on year after endless year until it became a positive joke to all onlookers?
‘Hi…’ Her expressive face pale and stiff, Milly slid behind the table in the dining room. An unfamiliar maid had wakened her.
‘I’d have let you sleep, but I know you want to be back for Connor.’ With a slow-burning smile that reminded Milly of how very lacking in restraint she had been around dawn, Gianni poured her a cup of coffee. ‘You still look pretty tired.’
Milly reddened like an awkward teenager. While she had still been deliciously drowsy and defenceless Gianni had invaded her side of the bed, ruthlessly set on conquest. And even with all her experience of Gianni’s incredible expertise she had been quite unprepared either for that level of slow, exquisite seduction or the intensity of his determination to give her the ultimate in pleasure. The intimate ache of her body had powered that smile he now felt able to bestow upon her.
She looked so miserable, Gianni reflected in frustration. He focused on her hand, where it rested on the table only about nine inches from his own. But Gianni was still challenged. Breathing in deep, he reached out suddenly to cover her tense fingers with his hand.
Milly froze in complete disconcertion. Gianni was not given to demonstrative gestures beyond the bedroom door. She stared at him. His ridiculously lush black lashes semi-veiled his eyes, but his tension was pronounced.
