A wave of stifling warmth enfolded her. She and Donato wouldn’t really marry and it drove her crazy trying to work out why he let her father peddle such a fantasy. What had he to gain? Surely this wasn’t the behaviour of an honest man. Yet everything she’d learned of Donato testified that he was straight down the line, often brutally so. His refusal to explain, and to stop the charade, was a dark blot on a relationship that was otherwise almost too enticing.
‘Thanks for the good wishes.’ Donato’s deep rumble sliced through the chatter around them.
Ella was tempted to blurt out the truth, that the engagement was a lie. But Donato had warned that without the ‘engagement’ he’d stop all involvement with her father. That wasn’t an option, not while her siblings needed Reg Sanderson to repay the money he’d taken.
She’d grown tired of trying to force the issue. Whatever strange machinations went on between him and her father, ultimately neither could make her marry Donato. In the meantime she could only find relief in the fact that her real friends had no notion of the fake engagement. Only those in her father’s set. Yet guilt and frustration gnawed at her.
‘I had no idea the pair of you even knew each other,’ Samantha purred, leaning forward to reveal even more pumped-up cleavage.
Anger pierced Ella. If she really were Donato’s fiancée she’d take exception to the way the other woman pawed at him, chattering on about a party they’d both attended in Melbourne and giving him that intimate smile.
But Ella was just his temporary lover.
She hadn’t let him encroach too far into her world. As for the time they spent on mutual interests, like antiques and art or activities new to her, like sailing and climbing, that didn’t feel like encroachment. Those were pure pleasure.
In fact, she realised with a hitch to her breathing, all her time with Donato was pleasurable. Their sexual connection had grown into something more complex.
Ella blinked when Samantha leaned in and said with a saccharine smile, ‘I get so bored when the men talk business, don’t you? Media trends and market growth.’ Beside them their companions were deep in discussion.
‘No, I don’t. I find it interesting.’ When Donato spoke of his wide span of investments, she was fascinated.
‘But then you’ve always been so serious, Ella. Serious and sturdy.’ Samantha’s violet eyes, their colour as artificial as her smile, swept Ella dismissively. ‘That reminds me. Rumour has it your father’s engaged Aurelio to design your wedding dress. Is it true?’
Ella shrugged, aiming for nonchalance despite her dismay. Surely her father hadn’t gone as far as organising a dress and hiring the country’s most exclusive designer! This was a nightmare. The sooner it ended the better.
Except when it ends you and Donato will go your separate ways.
Ella’s stomach pinched. The thought of Donato moving on to another lover brought bile to her mouth.
She wanted what they had to last. She enjoyed being with him. No one else had ever made her feel like this.
The revelation knocked her for six, making her sway.
Instantly Donato’s arm tightened around her. He looked down, flashing her a reassuring smile before turning back to his conversation, and her stupid heart kicked up pace.
She wanted to be with him.
‘I’m amazed you’ve got Aurelio to agree to design your gown.’ Samantha had taken her silence for assent. ‘His work is exquisite but he prefers to work with petite clients to show off his amazing designs.’ Again that sharp gaze, dismissing Ella’s body as unfashionably rounded.
‘Rake-thin women, you mean?’ Ella didn’t bother pretending to misunderstand. ‘I wouldn’t know. I’m not really familiar with his designs.’ She knew the name, of course, but that was all.
‘You’re not familiar...?’ The other woman delicately fanned herself. ‘But why would you when you’re not the type he normally dresses.’ Again that horrified survey of Ella’s height and hips.
Ella told herself to be grateful for the woman’s cattiness. It distracted her from dismay over the revelation of her feelings for Donato.
Yet Samantha’s words opened old wounds. She’d always made Ella feel like a galumphing elephant, reinforcing all her father’s negativity. She was too big, too serious and dull to be pretty or exciting.
‘But then, Donato’s a force to be reckoned with, isn’t he? What are artistic scruples compared with the chance to dress his bride, no matter what her size?’