Curtain up.
‘Hi, my name’s Isadora Helligan.’ She thrust out her hand as he approached. ‘I’m here to see Giovanni Hamilton.’
Stopping in front of her, he ran his fingers through his sandy-blond hair and sent her a quizzical smile. ‘Hi, Jack Bradshaw.’ He took her hand and gave it a hearty shake. ‘I’m Gio’s PA.’ He put his hand back in his pocket. ‘I’m sorry, I keep Gio’s diary, but…’ He paused, looking a little perplexed. ‘Do you have an appointment?’
Not quite.
‘Yes,’ she lied smoothly. ‘Gio made it himself a week ago. He must have forgotten to tell you.’
If Gio was going to kick her out, he would have to do it personally.
‘No problem,’ Jack replied. ‘It won’t be the first time. Creative geniuses rarely pay attention to the little details.’ He extended his arm towards the Hall. ‘He’s finishing up with the planners on the pool terrace. Why don’t you come through?’
As Jack led the way, Issy found herself too busy gazing at all the changes Gio had made to get any more nervous thinking about what she had to do.
How had he managed to get so much light into the interior of the building? And how come the place looked so spacious and open whereas before it had always seemed poky and austere?
The nerves kicked back in, though, as she stepped out onto the pool terrace and saw Gio. Tall and gorgeous and effortlessly commanding in grey linen trousers and an open-necked shirt, he stood on the other side of the empty pool, chatting with a couple of men in ill-fitting suits who were several inches shorter than him. Almost as if he sensed her standing there, staring at him, he turned his head. She could have sworn she felt the heat of his gaze as it raked over her figure.
Her stomach tensed as an answering heat bloomed in her cheeks.
She watched as he shook hands with the two men and then walked towards her over the newly mown grass. And was immediately thrown back in time to all the times she’d watched him in the past.
She’d always adored the way Gio moved, with that relaxed, languid, confident stride, as if he was completely comfortable in his own skin. He’d always been the sort of man to turn heads, even as a teenager, but age had added an air of dominance to that dangerous sex appeal. Unfortunately, the full package was even more devastating now. Tanned Mediterranean skin, the muscular, broad-shouldered physique and slim hips, that sharply handsome face and his rich chestnut-brown hair which had once been long enough to tie in a ponytail—to annoy his father she suspected—but was now cut short and fell in careless waves across his brow.
Was it any surprise she’d idolised him once—and mistaken him for the prince? Thank God she didn’t idolise him any more. Unfortunately, the assertion didn’t seem to be doing a thing for the heat cascading through her as he took his own sweet time strolling towards her.
Her heartbeat spiked, her nerve endings tingled and adrenaline pumped through her veins. She fidgeted with the bag’s strap, trying to bring her breathing back under control.
Good grief, what on earth was happening to her? Had the extreme stress of the last few months turned her into a nymphomaniac?
Her knees wobbled ever so slightly as he drew level, a sensual, knowing smile tilting his lips.
‘This is a surprise, Isadora,’ he said, pronouncing her full name with the tiniest hint of Italy. ‘You’re looking a lot more…’ His gaze flicked down her frame. Her knees wobbled some more. ‘Sophisticated today.’
‘Hello, Gio,’ she said, being as businesslike as she could with her nipples thrusting against the front of her blouse like bullets.
Trust Gio to remind her of their last meeting. No way was he going to make this easy for her. But then she hadn’t expected easy.
‘I’m sorry to arrive unannounced,’ she said, looking as meek as she could possibly manage. ‘But I have something important I wanted to discuss with you.’
His gaze drifted to her chest. ‘Really?’
She crossed her arms over her chest to cover her inappropriate reaction. Why hadn’t she worn a padded bra? ‘Yes, really,’ she said, a little too curtly. ‘Do you mind if we discuss it in private?’
If he was going to humiliate her, she’d rather not have an audience. Several of his employees were already staring at them from the other side of the pool.
‘There are workmen all over the house,’ he said calmly, but the challenge in his eyes was unmistakable as they fixed on her face. ‘The only place we’ll be able to have any privacy is in my bedroom.’
What? No way.
Her mind lurched back as the memories she’d been busy suppressing shot her blood pressure straight into the danger zone. But then she noticed the cynical curve of his lips and knew it wasn’t a genuine invitation. He expected her to decline. Because he thought she couldn’t handle the past, couldn’t handle him.
Think again, Buster.
‘That’d be great,’ she said, even though her throat was now drier than the Gobi Desert. ‘If you’re sure you don’t mind?’ she added with a hint of defiance.
‘Not at all,’ he replied, not sounding as surprised as she’d hoped. He lifted his arm. ‘I believe you know the way,’ he said, every inch the amenable, impersonal host.