‘Leaving...Theo?’ Billie parroted in dismay.
‘Relax. It’s not as though we’re abandoning him on a park bench,’ Gio censured with quiet amusement, dark eyes skimming her anxious face. ‘We’re spending our wedding night at the beach house. We’ll pick up Theo in the morning before we go and meet the family. Agata will revel in being the first islander to get to know my son.’
When they drew up at Agata’s house, Billie soon appreciated that Gio had not exaggerated because Theo’s arrival was the source of much excitement and pleasure. Agata was middle-aged and rotund. She greeted Gio with overflowing affection and took hold of his son with a blissful smile while contriving simultaneously to offer Irene a warm welcome and the promise of a comfortable bed in her guest room.
Gio swept Billie back into the car. The road was soon travelling sharply downhill and the car finally stopped at the mouth of a sandy path. Their driver, a strapping youth, grabbed the heavy cases and trudged down the path, leaving them to follow.
‘Watch your step. It’s a steep track,’ Gio warned, clamping a strong arm to her slender spine to steady her as her heels sank into the sandy surface.
‘I’d never have worn these shoes if I’d realised we were going to a beach house!’ Billie muttered ruefully. ‘I’m dressed up in my fanciest togs because I thought I’d be meeting your family tonight.’
‘I wanted to surprise you.’
‘You’ve succeeded.’ Billie laughed, staring down at the stretch of pristine beach coming into view as they descended. The sun had gone down but a brazier was burning, casting flickers of light across the sand and the dark waves washing into the cove.
The wooden beach house was tucked into a corner and lit up with fairy lights that looked like roses. ‘Wow...that’s so pretty!’ Billie exclaimed, staring when she saw lights flickering beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows as well.
Gio carried her over the threshold and she lost one of her shoes and he said that was a good thing because she couldn’t walk in them and she was smiling as he set her down on a polished wood floor. There were flowers everywhere she looked and lots of burning candles casting glimmers of moving light and shadow across the opulent interior. Their driver settled the cases in the adjoining bedroom and departed.
Billie wandered barefoot into the bedroom, appreciating the luxurious but plain furnishings and the wide, comfortable bed.
‘Champagne?’ Gio prompted.
‘Maybe later. Right now, I want a shower more than anything,’ she confided, keen to be free of the tailored dress and jacket she had worn to look smart. ‘Could you unzip me?’
‘If I unzip you,’ Gio remarked as she shed her jacket and moved helpfully close, ‘you’ll never make it to the shower.’
The zip ran down. He spread the fabric back and pressed his mouth to the smooth slope of her shoulder. ‘Your skin is so wondrously soft,’ he told her huskily, skimming the short sleeves down her arms, giving the dress a helpful push downward as it threatened to settle at her waist, and lifting her out of the folds.
‘I’m not going to get my shower,’ Billie forecast as he turned her slowly round to face him.
‘Well, possibly not until later and you might have to share it.’ Gio grinned down at her, his eyes hot as the sun’s rays on her exposed the lush curves of her figure in a green satin and lace bra and panties set. ‘That’s if I ever let you out of bed...’
Billie resisted a sudden urge to stupidly ask him if he thought her bottom was too large. She tried to stay a stable weight but she had never fussed about the curvy shape she had been born with, regarding that as a futile exercise destined to lead only to disappointment. Irritated by her sudden self-consciousness in his presence, she said instead, ‘You’re wearing way too many clothes.’
Gio hauled her up into his arms and kissed her with passionate force before bringing her down on the bed. ‘A shower and food and civilised behaviour later...I promise,’ he swore.
Billie’s memory flew back to the many, many times in the past when Gio had barely stepped through the door of the apartment before grabbing her with the wild impatience and hunger she had always cherished in him, deeming that fervour proof that she was more important to him than he was ever likely to tell her. Of course, the fallout when he announced that he was marrying Calisto had been all the more painful to bear, she conceded ruefully. He had forced her to see the danger of wishful thinking, the foolishness of the assumptions that had made her feel secure. But as soon as she found herself thinking that way, Billie kicked out those negative thoughts and, reminding herself that this was their wedding night, she lay back on the bed where he had placed her.