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‘Yes, I do. I know what you’re thinking. And I understand.’
‘Do you?’ His voice was harsh. ‘Then you’ll know that I’m asking myself what exactly I did to you that made you think you couldn’t talk to me about this. Is this why you turned your back on me night after night?’ He frowned and then shook his head, clearly angry with himself. ‘No, of course. This…’ He glanced towards her now concealed body. ‘This didn’t happen when we were together, did it? It couldn’t have done. I would have known.’
Millie looked at him. ‘It happened the day I left you.’
‘What happened the day that you left me?’ His hoarsely worded demand increased her tension.
‘Can we talk about this tomorrow?’ Seeing his face had been bad enough. She wasn’t up to a conversation. She just wanted to hide.
Leandro gave a hollow laugh and his fingers closed around her wrist as he drew her firmly into the guest bedroom. ‘No, agape mou. We’re going to talk. Or perhaps I should say that you’re going to talk. And you’re going to do it now.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
KEEPING her hand in his, Leandro led her across the terrace to the pool. The evening was still stiflingly warm and the stylish curve of the swimming pool was illuminated by the tiny lights that gleamed under the water.
‘I always loved sitting out here at night,’ she said softly, sinking onto the edge of a sun lounger. ‘It’s so peaceful.’
‘We made love out here. Do you remember?’
Millie didn’t answer his question because she knew that the only way she was going to be able to deal with the present was if she didn’t think about the past. ‘So—what do you want to know?’
He sat down right next to her, the length of his powerful thigh brushing the length of hers. ‘I want to know what happened to you. I want to know how you got those scars.’ For once there was no mockery in his voice and she stared down at their linked hands with almost curious detachment.
‘When I drove away that day I was…’ She hesitated. ‘Very upset. I didn’t really think about where I was going. I drove south and found myself in a very rough part of London. I stopped at a set of lights—and three men took a fancy to the car I was driving.’
His fingers tightened their grip on hers. ‘Tell me.’
‘Are you sure you want to hear it?’
‘Yes.’ But the word sounded as though it had been dragged from him and she looked up at his hard, set profile dubiously.
‘If you’re just going to rant and rave and turn all macho, this is going to be hard.’
‘I won’t rant and rave.’
‘You promise not to go and extract revenge?’
Leandro made a sound that was close to a snarl. ‘No,’ he said thickly, placing her hand on his thigh and holding it there, ‘no, agape mou, I don’t make that promise.’
‘Then—’
‘What caused the scars?’ he asked harshly. ‘Was it a knife?’
‘Broken bottle.’ Millie felt the horror of it burst into her brain. ‘Carjacking. I stopped at a set of lights—they had the doors open before I even saw them coming.’
‘They dragged you out of the car?’
‘I refused to undo the seat belt—big mistake. I think I was in a state of shock. But that resistance got me the scar on my stomach.’
The breath hissed through his teeth. ‘Why didn’t you just give them the keys?’
‘You gave me the car as a wedding present,’ she mumbled. ‘I liked it.’
‘Cars are replaceable.’
‘Spoken like a billionaire.’
‘I would say the same thing if I was living on benefits and someone had just stolen your bicycle.’ He spoke in a low, urgent tone. ‘Nothing is worth that sort of risk.’
