‘Now—’ she sprang to her feet, dredging up every ounce of courage she could find and holding on to it, ignoring the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. ‘Help me go through Jilly’s things and tell me what I should take. We won’t bother with her lingerie; I’ll pack my own underwear and night things. He won’t see that!’
‘If I must.’ Cleo followed her through to the third bedroom that had been set aside for Jilly’s use. ‘Though I’m miffed with you! You were going to be my chief bridesmaid, remember?’
Turning, Milly gave her a swift hug, promising confidently, ‘The wedding’s not for another three months—I’ll be back long before then!’
But hours later, lying sleepless, she wondered. What if Jilly proved impossible to trace? She’d burned her bridges here. She’d phoned Manda at home and told her she’d found another job and wouldn’t be in tomorrow. Had posted a cheque for three months’ rent to her landlord, just about cleaning her account out but at least what few possessions she had would be safe.
And tomorrow she was leaving the country with an intimidating guy who thought she was the dregs of humanity and who would watch her like a hawk to make sure she didn’t run off with the family silver.
She felt, quailing, as if her future no longer belonged to her.
CHAPTER THREE
MILLY KEPT HER aching, sleep-deprived eyes anxiously on the main double doors of the exclusive country hotel where the Italian had obviously spent the night. At least she now knew his name, which was a relief of sorts. When the driver had arrived at the flat, promptly at six, he’d asked, ‘Miss Lee to meet Signor Saracino?’
And now the driver had entered the hotel and would emerge at any moment with Saracino and they would be driven to the airport. Her stomach rolled with dread and if it hadn’t been for her need to find her sister and protect her from the intimidating Italian’s misguided wrath she would have been out of this car like a shot and legging it down the long meandering shrub-bordered drive as if the devil himself was after her.
Which he would be, she sickeningly reminded herself. He hadn’t impressed her as being a man who would give up easily. Give up full stop.
And then she saw him. And turned her head away abruptly, her heart pounding with the fleeting impression of immaculate strength, hard purpose and no mercy whatsoever. Her palms, knotted together on her lap, grew slick and she tried to pull a calming breath into her lungs but it stuck in her throat and almost choked her.
Could she hope to carry this off?
She had to. For Jilly’s sake. She had no other option because if he saw through the deception he would be off after the real Jilly Lee faster than a hot knife through butter.
While the driver stowed Saracino’s small amount of luggage in the boot alongside her bulky and battered suitcase and holdall the Italian merely gave her a cursory glance through the side window before wordlessly settling himself in the front passenger seat.
Relief that she’d been spared the ordeal of having him sit beside her in the rear of the car was sweet and she allowed herself the fleeting luxury of savouring it as the car purred back along the drive towards the main road. He probably couldn’t bring himself to get close to her, or even look at her properly, for fear of contamination, which was a good omen for the future. Couldn’t be better!
The more he kept his distance the safer she would be from discovery and she’d handle being a companion to someone who would naturally expect her to be au fait with the routine of their days somehow. Getting through check in without anyone noticing the slight difference in the name on the ticket and the one on her passport seemed another good omen.
But once they were at the airport, through security, he did look at her. Properly.
Dark eyes took on a cynical glint as they swept her from head to toe and Milly’s stomach rolled over then tightened into a sickening knot. Forcing herself to lift her chin and meet those coldly disparaging eyes, she assured herself firmly that there was no way he could tell he was looking at the wrong twin.
Jilly’s cream-coloured linen suit with its lapel-less fitted jacket and narrow knee-length skirt was classily eye-catching enough to fool him, especially since last night when she’d been wearing her usual boring everyday clothes he’d taken her for her twin—the short no-nonsense hairstyle, lack of make-up—all the things that had always marked her as being different from her sister.
Nevertheless she quaked in Jilly’s bronze kitten heels when he delivered cuttingly, ‘I’m glad to see you’ve toned down your act. Contrition? Somehow I don’t think so. More likely to be sheer pig-headed annoyance at having been traced and hauled back to make reparation for your sins.’
She didn’t know what he meant by that ‘toning down’ bit and watched with sickening fascination as broad shoulders lifted in a slight shrug which denoted that he couldn’t care less either way. And then his strongly sculpted features hardened as he added, ‘You will stick to the fiction that you were called away because of a family crisis, apologise for not calling my grandmother during your absence and continue to please her with your company for as long as you are needed. The money you stole can be taken as future wages; you will receive no further payments from me. Is that understood?’
Dry mouthed, Milly nodded speechlessly, her flagging spirits taking a further nose-dive. She would work for him but would receive no pay!
She couldn’t use her debit card because, after forking out for that advance rent payment her account was as good as bare. And relying on her seldom used credit card was out of the question. She couldn’t afford to get into debt. Penniless apart from a couple of five pound notes and the loose change in her purse, her plan for travelling around on her days off—provided she was allowed such a luxury—to try and trace her twin bit the dust.
Trying not to let her agitation show, to sound as wryly confident as Jilly would have done in similar circumstances, she asked, ‘Will I still have time off? Or will I be locked in my room when your grandmother doesn’t need me, Signor Saracino?’
One strongly arched dark brow lifted in marked contempt as he countered, ‘So formal. I recall a much more intimate mode of address when you came to my bed.’
He swung away as their flight was called, leaving Milly to stagger in his wake, too shell shocked to notice that he hadn’t answered her question.
Cocooned in the luxury of first class, Milly’s mind was racing. A sideways glance showed her his impressive profile bent over a file he’d taken from his briefcase, the pen held in long finely made tanned fingers stabbing notes into the margins of the closely typed pages.
She looked quickly away, her heart fluttering as a strange sensation gathered in the pit of her stomach. Jilly and the Italian had been lovers.
So why had that announcement really shocked her? Her sister had had affairs before.
‘Things’ she’d called them. ‘I’m having this thing with—whoever.’ None of them had lasted longer than a month or two. Jilly had always been restless, easily bored.
Had it been different this time? Had Jilly fallen in love with the savagely handsome Italian? Milly, her cheeks growing greatly overheated, could easily understand that. He was drop-dead-gorgeous, magnetic. Even she, on the receiving end of his icy menace, could recognise that. In the role of sexy seducer he would be dynamite! Totally irresistible!
Had her sister believed Saracino loved her in return? Had she expected marriage? Been sublimely confident of it? That would explain the wild promise that if she played her cards right she would be able to pay Ma back with interest. Everything about him spoke of wealth and standing and it would explain why the lively, flamboyant Jilly had uncharacteristically taken the post of humble companion to an old lady. Just to be near the man she loved and hoped to marry, to be available.
And