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‘You need to stop worrying about me, Lacey,’ she said carefully. ‘And give me space to get on with my life. You know Ilove you and Ruby to bits. I also like your husband quite a lot,’ she added. ‘Even though he has a bad habit of trying to tell me what to do all the time.’
Lacey gave a weary laugh. ‘Join the club,’ she said. ‘Brandon is the definition of overprotective, it drives me nuts on occasion, too.’ But then her voice sobered. ‘I love you too, Milly. But I guess you’re right, we need to lay off and let you find your own way.’
Milly felt the tightness in her chest ease.Finally.
‘I’ll get my assistant to courier your stuff to Mrs Cavali tomorrow, if you want to text Cassy the details. But you promise to let us know if you need anything... At all...’ Her sister sighed again. ‘Ever.’
Milly nodded. ‘Of course.’
‘And you will still come to Artie’s christening next month in Wiltshire, won’t you? Ruby will be devastated if you don’t. And so will I. And I’d love to see the work you’ve been doing...’
‘Of course, I’ll come, Lace,’ she said. ‘I’ll be desperate for a fix of my niece and my new nephew by then. And I’ll show you all my work.’
If I can find the time to produce any worth showing you in the next sixteen days... And counting.
‘Fabulous,’ Lacey said, sounding relieved. ‘Why don’t I send you some money to pay for the trip...?’ she added. Clearly her sister hadn’t quite given up the ghost of watching over her. ‘Or we could send the jet to Genoa to pick you up.’
‘Please don’t send any money. Or a jet! I’m perfectly capable of getting there under my own steam, Lace,’ Milly said, trying to control her irritation at the ludicrous suggestion. ‘I’ll be there, I promise. Trust me, okay?’ How the heck she was going to find a suitable outfit for the swish society event, not to mention have some actual work to show for her long absence, she had no idea. But she’d figure it out. She could get Lacey’s dress dry-cleanedand eat and sleep less so she could finish some of the work she’d barely started since arriving in Genoa four months ago.
Lacey sighed again. ‘I do trust you. I’ll see you then. I love you, sis.’
After saying her goodbyes, Lacey finally hung up the phone.
Milly dropped the mobile on the bed and stared out at the night. Her heart throbbing painfully in her throat.
She was finally free of the mollycoddling—for two and a half weeks at least.
Ironic, though, that she’d got her sister to let her stand on her own two feet—afteractuallyhaving been kidnapped. Sort of.
Now all she had to do was figure out what the heck she was going to do about the wildly handsome and far too arrogant billionaire who had brought her here. But as she pulled the quilt up and left his jacket on to stay warm—and wallow in his compelling scent—she couldn’t quite kick the thought that waking up on Roman Garner’s private island tomorrow did not feel nearly as problematic as it should.
In truth, it felt exhilarating—the same way that arguing with him on the boat had been. Like being trapped in a pirate’s hideaway—if the pirate were extremely hot and compelling and contrary, and he had a secret chivalrous streak that everyone else was unaware of. Except her.
CHAPTER THREE
BRIGHTSUNLIGHTSCALDEDMilly’s retinas as soon as she opened her eyes the following morning. It took her several seconds to adjust to the daylight, and several more to figure out where she was. Then everything came rushing back in lurid Technicolor.
She still had Roman Garner’s jacket on, except now the designer fabric was hopelessly crushed, along with the jewelled material of her sister’s dress. One look in the mirror of the bespoke stone bathroom attached to her bedroom had the last of her misplaced excitement and confidence from the night before—when she’d had some daft notion of seducing her uber-hot and arrogant host—evaporating in a rush of cringe-worthy memories.
Garner could even now be calling the police. Had she imagined the hot look in his eyes last night? Probably. It seemed highly unlikely a playboy billionaire would be interested in an unemployed teaching assistant-cum-wannabe-artist with panda eyes, grubby feet, a borrowed designer gown and a collapsed chignon.
Make thatcertainlynot interested.
After a long hot shower, to revitalise her decimated ego and wash away the evidence of last night’s shenanigans, it occurred to Milly she didn’t have a lot of sartorial options after putting on the guest suite’s complimentary bathrobe. Not only did she have no make-up with her, she had no clothes either, other than Lacey’s wrecked designer gown and Garner’s oversized jacket—even Lacey’s uncomfortable heels had been left on the launch.
Thoughts of Lacey brought back memories of their midnight chat. She blinked back the emotion threatening to destroy what was left of her confidence.
She had sixteen days to prove she wasn’t a total screw-up to Lacey and Brandon, and most importantly herself. Now all she had to do was get off this island—while naked and barefoot—before the police arrived, use her meagre savings to buy a return coach ticket to the UK for Arthur Cade’s christening, and find the time to do enough artwork in the meantime to have a viable portfolio to boast about when she got there in between doing two jobs.
No biggie, then.
First things first though, she needed clothing. She eyed the house phone, remembering a vague conversation with the very nice estate manager. Depending on the kindness of strangers wasn’t her usual vibe, but she didn’t have much of a choice.
A friendly voice answered on the second ring. ‘Signorina Devlin, you are awake. I hope you slept well,’ the estate manager said in perfect, if heavily accented, English.
‘Yes, thank you, the bed is very comfortable.’
‘Would you require breakfast?’ he asked, as if she really were a guest, and not a thief.
