Surrendering All But Her Heart. Melanie Milburne

      ‘I’ll be in touch,’ he said, dropping her hand and opening the door for her. ‘Ciao.’

      She brushed past him in the doorway and without a single word of farewell she left.

      CHAPTER THREE

      ‘CONGRATULATIONS,’ said Linda, Natalie’s assistant, the following morning when she arrived at work.

      ‘Pardon?’

      Linda held up a newspaper. ‘Talk about keeping your cards close to your chest,’ she said. ‘I didn’t even know you were dating anyone.’

      ‘I’m …’ Natalie took the paper and quickly scanned it. There was a short paragraph about Angelo and her and their upcoming nuptials. Angelo was quoted as saying he was thrilled they were back together and how much he was looking forward to being married next week.

      ‘Is it true or is it a prank?’ Linda asked.

      Natalie put the paper down on the counter. ‘It’s true,’ she said, chewing at her bottom lip.

      ‘Pardon me if I’m overstepping the mark here, but you don’t look too happy about it,’ Linda said.

      Natalie forced a smile to her face. ‘Sorry, it’s just been such a pain … er … keeping it quiet until now,’ she said, improvising as she went. ‘We didn’t want anyone to speculate about us getting back together until we were sure it was what we both wanted.’

      ‘Gosh, how romantic!’ Linda said. ‘A secret relationship.’

      ‘Not so secret now,’ Natalie said a little ruefully as her stomach tied itself in knots. How was she going to cope with the constant press attention? They would swarm about her like bees. Angelo was used to being chased by the paparazzi. He was used to cameras flashing in his face and articles being written that were neither true nor false but somewhere in between.

      She liked her privacy. She guarded it fiercely. Now she would be thrust into the public arena not for her designs and her talent but for whom she was sleeping with.

      Her stomach gave another little shuffle. Not that she would be actually sleeping with Angelo. She was determined not to give in to that particular temptation. Her body might still have some sort of programmed response to him, but that didn’t mean she had to give in to it.

      She could be strong.

      She would be strong.

       And determined.

      He wouldn’t find her so easy to seduce this time around. She had been young and relatively inexperienced five years ago. She was older and wiser now. She hadn’t fallen in love with him before and she wasn’t about to fall in love with him now. He would be glad to call an end to their marriage before a month or two. She couldn’t see him tolerating her intransigence for very long. He was used to getting his own way. He wanted a submissive, I’ll-do-anything-to-please-you wife.

      There wasn’t a bone in Natalie’s body that would bend to any man’s will, and certainly not to Angelo Bellandini’s.

      ‘These came for you while you were at the lawyer’s,’ Linda said when Natalie came back to the studio a couple of hours later.

      Natalie looked at the massive bunch of blood-red roses elegantly wrapped and ribboned, their intoxicating clove-like perfume filling the air.

      ‘Aren’t you going to read the card?’ Linda asked.

      ‘Er … yes,’ Natalie said unpinning the envelope from the cellophane and tissue wrap. She took the card out and read: See you tonight, Angelo.

      ‘From Angelo?’ Linda asked.

      ‘Yes,’ Natalie said, frowning.

      ‘What’s wrong?’

      ‘Nothing.’

      ‘You’re frowning.’

      She quickly relaxed her features. ‘I’ve got a few things to see to in my office at home. Do you mind holding the fort here for the rest of the day?’

      ‘Not at all,’ Linda said. ‘I guess you’ll have to leave me in charge when you go on your honeymoon, right?’

      Natalie gave her a tight on-off smile as she grabbed her bag and put the strap over her shoulder. ‘I don’t think I’ll be away very long,’ she said.

      ‘Aren’t you going to take the roses with you?’ Linda asked.

      Natalie turned back and scooped them up off the counter. ‘Good idea,’ she said, and left.

      Angelo looked at the three-storey house in a leafy street in the well-to-do Edinburgh suburb of Morningside. It had a gracious elegance about it that reminded him of Natalie immediately. Even the garden seemed to reflect parts of her personality. The neatly clipped hedges and the meticulous attention to detail in plants and their colour and placement bore witness to a young woman who liked order and control.

      He smiled to himself as he thought how annoyed she would be at the way things were now out of her control. He had the upper hand and he was going to keep it. He would enjoy watching her squirm. He had five years of bitterness to avenge. Five years of hating her, five years of wanting her, five years of being tortured by memories of her body in his arms.

       Five years of trying to replace her.

      He put his finger to the highly polished brass doorbell. A chime-like sound rang out, and within a few seconds he heard the click-clack of her heels as she came to answer its summons. He could tell she was angry. He braced himself for the blast.

      ‘How dare you release something to the press without checking with me first?’ she said as her opening gambit.

      ‘Hello, cara,’ he said. ‘I’m fine, thank you. And you?’

      She glowered at him as she all but slammed the door once he had stepped over its threshold. ‘You had no right to say anything to anyone,’ she said. ‘I was followed home by paparazzi. I had cameras going off in my face as soon as I left my studio. I almost got my teeth knocked out by one of their microphones.’

      ‘Sorry about that,’ he said. ‘I’m so used to it I hardly notice it any more. Do you want me to get you a bodyguard? I should’ve thought of it earlier.’

      She rolled her eyes. ‘Of course I don’t want a bloody bodyguard!’ she said. ‘I just want this to go away. I want all of this to go away.’

      ‘It’s not going to go away, Natalie,’ he said. ‘I’m not going to go away.’

      She continued to glare at him. ‘Why are you here?’

      ‘I’m here to take you out to dinner.’

      ‘What if I’m not hungry?’

      ‘Then you can sit and watch me eat,’ he said. ‘Won’t that be fun?’

      ‘You are totally sick—do you know that?’ she said.

      ‘Did you like the roses?’

      She turned away from him and began stalking down the wide corridor. ‘I hate hothouse flowers,’ she said. ‘They have no scent.’

      ‘I didn’t buy you hothouse flowers,’ he said. ‘I had those roses shipped in from a private gardener.’

      She gave a dismissive grunt and pushed open a door leading to a large formal sitting room. Again the attention to detail was stunning. Beautifully co-ordinated colours and luxurious fabrics, plush sofas and crystal chandeliers. Timeless antiques cleverly teamed with modern pieces—old-world charm and modern chic that somehow worked together brilliantly.

      ‘Do you want a drink?’ she asked uncharitably.

      ‘What are you having?’

      She threw him a speaking glance.