Her simple but elegant cream dress was nipped in at the waist with a black bow at the front that drew attention to how slim she was. He suspected he could now span her waist with his hands. Her silver-blonde hair was pulled back in a smooth knot at the back of her head, showcasing the swanlike grace of her neck. She was wearing make-up but it was so skilfully applied it looked entirely natural. She had subtly highlighted the grey-blue of her eyes with eyeliner and a brush of smoky eyeshadow, and her lush lips were shiny with pink-tinted lipgloss. It made him want to lean down and press his lips to hers to see if she still tasted the same. He could smell her perfume, her signature summery honeysuckle scent that had clung to his skin for hours after making love with her. He had missed that fragrance. It never smelled quite the same on anyone else.
He stood to greet her, and even though she was wearing shiny patent black killer heels he still towered over her. ‘Did you bring your passport?’ he asked.
She gave him a churlish look from beneath her lashes. ‘I almost didn’t, but the thought of two million reasons why I should made me see reason.’
Emilio allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction. She was here under duress but at least she was here. He led her to a quiet corner in the bar with a gentle hand at her elbow. He felt her bare skin shiver in response to his touch and an arrow of need staked him in his groin. Her skin was so soft and creamy, like silk against his fingers. ‘What would you like to drink?’ he asked. ‘Champagne?’
She shook her head. ‘I’m not celebrating anything,’ she said, shooting him another look. ‘White wine will do.’
Emilio ordered their drinks and, once they had been served, he leaned back in his seat to study her icemaiden features. He knew he deserved her ire. He had thrown her out of his life with a callous and ruthless disregard for her feelings. He had been so convinced she had betrayed him. The red mist of anger he had felt had blinded him to anything but what he believed she had done. The image of her with that man taunted him and had done so until he had found out about the discovery of her identical twin.
Seeing her in the flesh again had brought back all the reasons he had wanted to marry her in the first place. It wasn’t just her natural beauty or grace or poise. It wasn’t just her softly spoken voice and the way she nibbled at her bottom lip when she was feeling uncertain, or the way she sometimes twirled a loose strand of hair around one of her fingers when she was concentrating on something. It was something in her eyes, those incredible were-they-grey-were-they-blue eyes that had warmed and softened the first time she’d looked at him. What man didn’t want the woman he had chosen to be his wife to look at him like that?
As far as he had been concerned, Gisele had been perfect wife material, sweet and gentle, biddable and loving. The fact that he hadn’t been in love with her was irrelevant. For his whole life love had been an emotion he had never been able to rely on. In his experience, people used the words so freely but their actions rarely backed them up. The sex tape scandal had reinforced to him how pointless it was to love someone, for people always let you down. But in the end he had been the one to let her down. He had destroyed her love with his lack of trust in her. But he was determined to get her back. He would make it up to her in a thousand different ways. He couldn’t allow a failure like this to blot his life. It felt like a giant ink stain on his soul. He had made the error and it was up to him to do whatever it took to fix it.
And he would do whatever it took.
He knew she still wanted him. He had seen it that first day in her shop, the way her body spoke to him in its own private language. His own intensely visceral response to her had sideswiped him. He had thought he had put his desire for her behind him, but it was back with a vengeance as soon as he had laid eyes on her. It was an aching, pulsing need to feel her in his arms again. He couldn’t wait to take her upstairs and prove to her they still had a future, that the past could be permanently put aside, erased as if it hadn’t happened. She was playing coy with him but he was sure once he kissed her she would melt, just as she always had in the past. He could not tolerate any other outcome.
Failure was not an option.
‘I have arranged a flight for tomorrow,’ he said. ‘We leave at 10:00 a.m.’
Gisele gave him a brittle look. ‘You were that certain I’d come?’
He returned her look with measured calm. ‘Let’s say I know you well enough to be quietly confident,’ he said.
‘You don’t know me any more, Emilio,’ she said with another hardened look. ‘I’m not the same person I was two years ago.’
‘I don’t believe that,’ Emilio said. ‘I know we all change a bit over time but you can’t really change who you are deep inside.’
She lifted a slim shoulder in a devil-may-care manner. ‘Maybe in a month you’ll change your mind,’ she said and took a sip of her drink.
‘Is your sister still here in Sydney?’ Emilio asked.
‘No, she flew back to London ten days ago,’ she said, looking into the contents of her glass with a little frown. ‘The press were hounding her. They were hounding us both. I found it a little scary …’ She bit her lip and drained her glass as if she wanted to stop any more words coming out of her mouth.
‘It must have been a very difficult time for you both,’ he said.
She lifted her gaze to his; her eyes were like stormy grey-blue ice cubes, hard, cold and resentful. ‘I’d rather not talk about it if you don’t mind,’ she said. ‘I’m still trying to sort it out in my head. So is Sienna.’
‘Perhaps you can invite her to stay at my villa for a few days,’ Emilio said. ‘I would like to meet her.’
She gave another shrug of indifference. ‘Whatever.’
Emilio signalled for the waiter to refresh their drinks. He sat back in his seat and observed Gisele as she tucked an imaginary strand of hair behind her ear, another one of her I’m-out-of-my-depth-and-trying-not-to-show-it mannerisms. She was not as immune to him as she tried to make out. He had seen the flare of female interest in her gaze. He had felt the shiver of reaction on her skin when he had touched her. One kiss would prove he could have her back where he wanted her.
‘Tell me about your shop,’ he said. ‘How did you come about buying the business?’
She dropped her gaze to the drink the waiter had just set before her. ‘When I came back … from Italy I … I wanted a secure base,’ she said. ‘I liked the idea of working for myself. Having more control, that sort of thing. I’d sold some items to the owner in the past and she gave me the first option of buying.’
‘It’s a big commitment for a young woman of just twenty-five, or twenty-three as you were then,’ Emilio said. ‘Did your parents help you?’
Gisele put her glass down. ‘At first, but then things got a bit tricky after my father got sick. He had a few debts we didn’t know about until after he’d died. Bad business decisions, a bit of gambling with the stock market that didn’t pay off as well as he’d hoped. I had to help my mother … I mean Hilary out.’
Emilio put his drink down on the coaster on the table between them. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t send a card,’ he said. ‘I’d heard he was terminally ill. I should have made contact to offer my condolences. It must have been a very difficult time for you and your mother.’
She looked back at the contents of her glass; the grip of her fingers was so tight around the stem he wondered if it would snap. ‘He took eight and a half miserable months to die,’ she said. ‘Not once in all that time did he ever say anything about me having a twin sister.’ She looked at him at that point, her grey-blue gaze blazing with anger. ‘Both my parents knew our relationship had broken up because of that sex tape but still neither he nor my mother said a word. I can never forgive them for that.’
Emilio carefully removed the