The Sicilian's Mistress (6 page)

‘You knew when you did your vanishing act,' Gianni reminded her darkly. ‘Now go and get Connor and tell him who I am!'

Faith blinked in disconcertion. ‘I can't do that—'

‘Why not?' Gianni shot back at her.

‘I mean, he doesn't know you…it's far too soon,' she argued.

‘I won't allow you to introduce me to my own child as some passing stranger,' Gianni spelt out. ‘I'm his father. At his age, he's hardly likely to be traumatised by the news!'

Put squarely on the spot, Faith studied him with strained eyes. She hadn't been prepared for that demand. Foolishly, she hadn't thought beyond letting him see Connor, and even that decision, she recognised now with sudden shame, hadn't been made for the right reasons. Playing for time, she had dangled Connor like a carrot, in an effort to soothe Gianni and prevent him from taking any other form of action.

‘Porca miseria!'
Gianni suddenly gritted in a fierce undertone, striding forward, dark eyes flaming threat. ‘Does he call your fiancé Daddy?'

Faith backed off a startled step and trembled. ‘No, of course not!' she gasped.

Equally as suddenly, Gianni stilled. Dark, feverish colour had sprung up over his spectacular cheekbones as he surveyed her: a slight, shivering figure with replaited hair, drawn features and frightened confused eyes. Now clad in an ugly mud-coloured jacket, flat walking shoes and a shapeless denim skirt, she looked like a waif. The bitter anger sparked by his first emotive sight of a son who didn't know him drained away. One thing hadn't changed, he acknowledged ruefully. Without him around she was still a fashion disaster, choosing comfort and practicality over style.

‘It's all right,
cara
,' Gianni murmured quietly. ‘Really, it's all right.'

‘I don't know what I'm doing here,' Faith whispered truthfully, her vision blurring with sudden tears.

‘I don't know about the location, but this meeting was definitely a step in the right direction,' Gianni told her bracingly, checking that Connor was still wholly entranced by the slide before extending a supportive arm around her. ‘Take a deep breath and let it out again…'

‘I might fall over…' She tried to joke, but her taut voice emerged flat as a pancake. As he eased her into the shelter of his lean body she was alarmingly conscious of his male warmth and his intimate scent. Her tummy flipped, leaving her feeling desperately ill at ease.

‘Not when I'm around.'

‘I really don't know why I gave you a false name,' Faith heard herself confide. ‘It seems such a strange thing to have done, and I've always thought I was an honest person…I really did think that.'

Gianni tensed and suppressed a groan. The plot thickens, he conceded grimly. Of course she was going to assume that her real name was the false one. What else was she to think while she still fondly imagined that the Jenningses were her parents? But by the end of the day he would have dealt with
that problem as well, he reminded himself grimly. Handling one problem at a time had become an impossible challenge.

‘Take me over to Connor,' he urged.

His lack of comment surprised Faith. But then it had hardly been the right moment for that confession, she decided dully. His sole interest right now was naturally his son.

As she headed for Connor, Gianni let his arm slide from her. It felt oddly like being pushed away. Confusion assailed her. She was uneasily conscious of the change within herself. Since she had had that flashback Gianni no longer felt like a stranger. Now she was hugely aware that she had once loved him. A terrifying, all-or-nothing, no-sacrifice-too-great love, which she had apparently offered freely. But she didn't think he had ever loved her. She had sensed her own insecurity during that phone call, relived her own determined attempt to conceal that insecurity.

When he saw them coming towards him, Connor perched on the end of the slide, restlessly swinging his legs, only curiosity in his eyes as he studied Gianni. He was a friendly, confident child, who had never been shy.

‘You're
big
!' he said to Gianni, his blond head falling back to take in the height of a male at least six feet three inches tall, big brown eyes wide as the sky above and openly impressed.

Gianni laughed, and immediately hunkered down to his son's level. ‘I think you're going to be big too,' he commented, half to himself.

‘This is…' Faith had to stop and start again as Connor gazed up at her with innocently enquiring eyes. ‘This is your father, Connor.'

Connor looked blank.

‘Your daddy,' Faith rephrased in a taut undertone.

He recognised that word. ‘Daddy?' he repeated, small legs falling still, a puzzled look on his face. Then his dark eyes rounded and he studied Gianni with dawning wonderment. ‘Peter daddy?'

As Gianni tensed, Faith crouched down beside him. ‘Yes, that's right…like Peter has a daddy. This is your daddy,' she explained.

‘Who's Peter?' Gianni enquired out of the corner of his mouth.

‘His friend at nursery,' Faith whispered back. ‘He's been to his house to play.'

‘Play ball?' Connor demanded, suddenly bouncing upright in excitement. ‘Daddy play ball?'

Gianni released his pent-up breath. ‘Not for a long time, but willing to learn,' he muttered not quite steadily. ‘Why didn't I think of bringing something like that?'

Connor danced on the spot. Peter's daddy was more of a favourite than even Faith had appreciated. ‘Play cars? Phroom-phroom?' he carolled hopefully, withdrawing a tiny toy car from his pocket.

‘Phroom…phroom,' Gianni sounded obediently. ‘I
love
playing cars!'

Connor grinned and raised his arms to be lifted. ‘Phroom…phroom…phroom!' he said exuberantly.

Gianni reached out and eased his son into his arms and then slowly came upright, a slightly stunned light in his usually keen dark eyes. He held Connor awkwardly, at a slight distance from him, visibly afraid of taking too many liberties too soon and spoiling the moment.

Reacting to the amount of attention he was receiving, Connor spread his arms and proceeded to noisily intimate an aeroplane going into freefall.

‘Connor, behave!' Faith scolded in dismay, but Gianni saw his mistake and hauled his son closer before he could divebomb out of his arms.

‘Daddy!' Connor exclaimed, and wound his arms round Gianni's neck to plant a big kiss on his cheek. ‘My Daddy…
mine
!' he stressed, with all the satisfaction of ownership.

Faith's eyes smarted. Even at this age, her son had clearly felt the difference between himself and his friend Peter. She
would never have suspected that. She had thought he was too young to appreciate the absence of a father in his life, had once assumed that the presence of her own father would fill that gap. Unfortunately, Robin Jennings worked long hours, and Connor was invariably in bed when his grandfather was at home. And Edward found the high-octane energy of a toddler difficult to handle, had frankly admitted that he would feel more at home with Connor when he was a little older.

Yet Gianni's damp eyes shone. Edward had never looked at her son with such pride and emotion and fascination. And why should he have done? Edward was not Connor's father.

‘Down!' Connor demanded.

Gianni lowered him to the thick carpet of bark on the ground. Connor got cheerfully down on all fours, stuck his bottom in the air and cried, ‘Woof! Woof!'

‘He's doing his dog impression. You're getting his whole repertoire,' Faith explained tightly. ‘He's showing off like mad.'

‘He's so full of life…so sweet,' Gianni murmured huskily, hunkering down again, careless of the muddy bark welling round his superb Italian leather shoes, to stay close to his son.

Connor got bored with being a dog very quickly. ‘Ducks!' he reminded his mother.

Gianni regarded Faith enquiringly.

‘On the lake. He likes to see them.'

Connor had already scampered off in the direction of the lake path and Faith hurried after him. The light was fast beginning to fade. Gianni fell into step beside her. The mature trees on the woodland trail cast dark shadows. When a man suddenly stepped into view several feet ahead of them, Faith gave a start of dismay.

Gianni spoke to him in Italian, and only then did she recall the other man who had been standing above the playground.

‘What's going on?' she questioned nervously as they moved on. ‘Who are those men?'

‘I was really surprised when I got your message earlier, particularly when you styled yourself “Milly”,' Gianni admitted.

Faith coloured. ‘It seemed more discreet to do that.'

‘Unfortunately my security staff were convinced the message was a set-up.'

‘Security staff?' Those men worked for him?

‘The park is swarming with them. They've had the time of their lives staking out this place over the past hour. They love stuff like this,' Gianni conceded with wry amusement.

‘Why a set-up?' she queried. ‘Why would anybody think that?'

‘People don't, as a rule, ask me to meet them in such public places. I did wonder if the press had finally got on to us and whether you might have received a similar message purporting to be from me. The tabloids would pay a fortune for a photo of us all together—'

‘Tabloids?' she exclaimed, thoroughly taken aback.

‘Wake up,
cara
. The news that I have a child will be a major scoop. And sooner or later it
will
come out,' Gianni informed her. ‘I could only protect you from that exposure by staying away from my son, and I'm not prepared to do that. I won't behave as if Connor is some grubby secret in my life.'

Faith was horrified by what he was telling her. His very arrival had already exploded her quiet life out of existence. Now he was calmly admitting that there would be worse to come. Naturally the press would have an interest in the private life of a male as wealthy and powerful as Gianni. But threat of such public exposure made Faith feel ill. If it happened, her parents would be devastated, and once again she would be responsible for hurting them.

Since Connor had got down on the grass verge to play with the gravel on the path, Faith came to a halt and rested back weakly against the trunk of a tall beech tree. ‘You don't give a damn, do you?' she muttered shakily. ‘No matter how
it affects me and my family, you'll still go ahead and demand access to Connor.'

‘Guilty as charged,' Gianni said drily. ‘I've been excluded from my son's life long enough.'

In the twilight, Faith focused on his lean bronzed features with a heart that was chilled even as its beat involuntarily quickened. His dark, deep-set eyes had an aggressive golden glimmer that challenged. He was tougher than titanium and he wasn't going to quit. ‘You're so unfeeling,' she condemned unevenly.

Moving fluidly forward, Gianni braced one lean hand against the trunk and stared down at her, spiky black lashes low over his slumbrous gaze. ‘Am I?' he questioned in a lazy undertone as smooth as black silk.

That deep, dark drawl sent tiny little shivers running down her taut spinal cord. Her bemused eyes locked to his and feverish tension snaked through her. For the space of a heartbeat she wanted to move away, and then she wasn't sure what she had wanted or even why she might have wanted it. As rational thought blurred, other more intrusive physical sensations took precedence.

That close, Gianni truly mesmerized her. Her breathing quickened, her mouth running dry. Dark excitement flowered into being inside her. Her muscles tightened on a delicious thrilling edge. The sudden aching fullness of her breasts and the urgent sensitivity of her nipples made her tremble, every pulse racing at fevered speed.

She could hardly breathe as Gianni watched her with the still golden eyes of a hunter. He brought up his other hand and let his thumb slowly graze the full curve of her lower lip. At the first touch of his hand, heat burst into being low in her pelvis, and she was betrayed into a tiny startled gasp. As Connor played at their feet, Gianni let long fingers curve to her flushed cheekbone and slowly he smiled. Faith braced herself against the tree to stay upright. That smile dazzled her, knocked her sideways, and filled her with an elemental hunger so powerful it hurt.

‘Poor Edward…' Gianni husked with indolent satisfaction as he withdrew his hand and straightened again with innate grace. ‘This is all about to blow up in his face. Let him go before it gets dirty,
cara
.'

Only slowly emerging from what felt vaguely like a partial black-out, Faith stared with darkened eyes up at the tall, dark male towering over her as if he had suddenly become the devil incarnate. Now she recognised the studied insolence of that smile. The frantic heat that had filled her with such mindless yearning seconds earlier now engulfed her in shame. How could she be attracted to him like this? How
could
she be? Maybe it was the disorientating sense of having one foot lodge in the past and the other foot threatening to buckle in the present. All of a sudden it was so difficult to know what she was really feeling.

‘Leave Edward out of this!' she told him, with all the fierceness of her own guilty mortification.

‘But he's right in the middle,' Gianni responded with supreme cool. ‘So why drag out his demise? There's no contest, is there?'

‘I don't know wh-what you're talking about,' Faith stammered, although she was dreadfully afraid that she did, and what he was now suggesting terrified her.

Gianni dealt her a long, slow, sardonic look. ‘I don't have much compassion to spare in Benson's direction, but I'm fair enough to concede that he didn't know he was poaching on my territory…so let him go now.'

‘Your territory?' Faith parroted, scarcely believing her ears.