Outside again, Fiona pressed the photo album across the table. ‘I brought this for you to have a look at...it’s from when Gianni and my sister were together.’
‘Thanks, but no. I would feel like I was prying,’ Jo said truthfully, sipping her lukewarm water while Fiona poured herself a fresh glass of wine and frowned when Jo shook her head. ‘And we can’t move the screens.’
‘I’ll talk to Gianni about it,’ Fiona cut in, her mouth tight as she pushed the photo album aside, annoyed that Jo had refused to look at it.
‘No point talking to him about it.’
‘Gianni is very open to my ideas.’
‘But the local authorities wouldn’t be. The screens are protected by law. They’re listed. We’re not allowed to remove them,’ Jo explained gently.
Fiona grimaced. ‘But they’re ugly. I’m sure Gianni would agree with me.’
‘It really doesn’t matter if he does or not. It’smyhouse, Fiona.’
‘Surely, it’s your grandmother’s house?’
‘No, my grandfather left it to me because I’m the last Hamilton in the family. My grandmother, naturally, has the right to live here as long as she likes,’ Jo explained. ‘I’m your client.’
‘Gianni’smy client.’ Fiona’s hostility was no longer hidden. ‘He hired me, he pays me,hehas the last word!’ she asserted sharply.
‘I’m afraid that I have the last word when it comes to Ladymead,’ Jo countered as gently as she could because she didn’t want to make the other woman even angrier.
‘I wouldn’t take that for granted,’ Fiona responded in an acid tone. ‘You do your five years with Gianni and, in return, he fixes up this house. It’s a business arrangement and he’s only married to you in the first place because of that stupid scandal in the newspapers!’
Jo went white and literally stopped breathing for several timeless seconds. The private information that Fiona was flinging in her face was only known to a handful of people: Gianni, the lawyers involved and Jo. Even Sybil didn’t know about that five-year clause. That Fiona was aware of that fact cut Jo to the bone with angry chagrin because she knew that the most likely explanation was that Gianni had told Fiona the exact circumstances of his marriage. And why on earth would he do that? Didn’t he understand the concept of discretion?
‘Perhaps you should lay off the wine,’ Jo murmured tautly. ‘My marriage is none of your business. I’m your client, not your target. I think you should return to the lodge now and have a good night’s sleep.’
‘Gianni would be much better off with someone like me!’ Fiona flung at her, the words slurring. ‘He should’ve been with Fliss but that wasn’t to be, and he and I are very close friends indeed.’
‘I’m sure you are.’ Jo was determined not to get into an argument as she stood up. ‘Goodnight, Fiona. Do you still want to do that tour of the house tomorrow morning?’
‘Of course not!’ the brunette snapped brittlely. ‘I won’t stand for you treating me like this!’
Jo made no response but inside herself she felt like glass that had been trodden on and smashed to pieces. She did not want to accept that Gianni had put her in a position where she could be humiliated. Their marital agreement was supposed to be private, not something he shared with a woman like Fiona, who only wanted to put her down. As the brunette stalked away, Jo turned back. ‘Tell me...do you resent my existence on your sister’s behalf? Or on your own?’
‘Gianni said he’d never marry after Fliss died!’ Fiona slung at her accusingly, but Jo recognised Fiona’s jealousy. It was personal. Maybe Fiona had hoped that Gianni would turn to her after her sister died. It hadn’t happened, but Fiona had still cherished hope as long as he was single. His marriage, business arrangement or not, had seriously rattled the brunette.
‘People change.’ Jo didn’t say it, but Gianni had matured from the heartbroken young man he had once been. Her heart was hammering with stress inside her chest and she found it impossible to swallow as she walked back towards Belvedere.
Fiona was half in love with Gianni. It took one to know one, Jo acknowledged heavily. She was so hurt now because she was no longer detached from Gianni inanyway. Not only was she pregnant, but also in love with him. When had that happened? Or had that development been inevitable? He was the boy she had craved as a teenager, the young man she had fallen passionately in love with. Her restive fingers touched the bouquet pendant at her throat. Gianni knew how to touch her heart. He knew what to say, what to do to entrance a woman. Jo had been a pushover, a complete pushover from the evening she had put on her wedding dress again for his benefit and when he had inched off each lace glove with deft fingers her heart had been hammering so hard she had been scared it would burst.
‘I will never forget how beautiful you looked on our wedding day,’ he had told her on the yacht with one of his flashing smiles. ‘Everyone always says that a bride is beautiful, but you looked spectacular.’
And he had meant it, every word of it. She had practically flung herself at him afterwards, but she did not regret the wedding night that they had spent apart. She honestly believed that Gianni would not have appreciated her in the same way had she got into bed with him that first night.
In a pensive mood, she walked back home, wondering wearily if there would be repercussions for her decision to stand up to Fiona Myles. Gianni’s friend and honorary sister. Well, what was done was done and she wasn’t about to beat herself up for defending her own corner, and Gianni had questions to answer as well, she reflected ruefully.
A long lazy bath relaxed her. She dried her damp hair and picked an elegant wrap and a short silk pyjama set from her packed drawers. When she told Gianni about the baby, she wanted to look good. She was on the stairs when she heard the helicopter overhead and she smiled.
Gianni’s fast, impatient stride carried him indoors before he even saw Jo at the foot of the stairs, wearing something fluttery, feminine and blue that bared her perfect legs. With supreme effort, he mastered the immediate surge of hunger that made his heart race and the fit of his trousers tight. He strode forward, smouldering dark golden eyes glittering below the thick canopy of his lashes.
‘What on earth did you say or do to Fiona?’ he demanded hoarsely.
CHAPTER TEN
JOFROZE,WARMCOLOURwashing up her throat into her cheeks as she tried to think how to answer that leading question.