‘It’s been a long time since I saw Gio smile,’ Theon remarked.
‘I don’t have a fancy background or any money. I owned and ran a shop. I’m just an ordinary working woman,’ Billie volunteered before Gio could return to censor the conversation. ‘You might as well know that upfront.’
‘In recent years, very recent years, I have learned the unimportance of such distinctions.’ Theon gave an emphatic shrug and relaxed back into his armchair. ‘And I’m afraid I must disagree with you on one point. No ordinary woman could handle Gio and the Letsos family with so much tolerance and common sense.’
That was Billie’s last private moment with Theon. One by one she received introductions to Gio’s uncles, aunts and sisters, including, to her surprise, his half-sister, Melissa, who had passed half a lifetime being royally ignored by her father’s family because she was the result of Dmitri Letsos’ illicit teenaged romance.
‘They’re not a bad bunch when you get to know them,’ Melissa, a collected blonde teacher in her forties, pronounced with a wry smile. ‘Oh, there’s the usual sibling rivalry, but they are, one and all—I assure you—devoted to Gio. He brought me into this family and he’s the first port of call for all of us when there’s a crisis. I hope you can handle that. Calisto couldn’t.’
From stray comments made and generally quickly leading to a subject change rather than risk causing offence, Billie began to suspect that Gio’s first wife had not been well liked. She cursed her own curiosity about her predecessor: it was pointless and the gratification of that curiosity was more likely to lead to hurt. Gio had married another woman. Get over it, she urged herself impatiently, determined not to be haunted by the shadows of the past.
‘If your wife is the woman she appears to be, she’s solid gold,’ Gio’s grandfather told him disconcertingly.
Tight-mouthed, Gio breathed, ‘When it comes to Billie, I have no need of anyone’s approval.’
‘But an invitation to the wedding would have been very much appreciated,’ Theon countered drily.
Once Irene had taken Theo up for his bath and guests had begun to disperse to their own corners of the rambling villa, Billie slipped away to explore the wonderful gardens, finally sitting down in the shade of an ancient chestnut tree to appreciate the glorious bird’s-eye view of the island and the ocean. Although she was exhausted she was quietly pleased that her meeting with Gio’s family had ultimately gone well when it had so very nearly gone badly wrong.
When had Gio become so hot-tempered? He had been like a stick of dynamite with a smouldering string attached, aggressively ready to attack anyone who attacked her, over-sensitive to every comment and question that came in her direction. Billie sighed over that mystery and slowly relaxed, letting the tension drain out of her.
‘I’ve been looking everywhere for you,’ Gio delivered in a minatory tone, striding down the gravelled path towards her. ‘Downstairs, upstairs...’
‘Maybe you should microchip me and then you would know where I am at all times,’ Billie told him deadpan.
Struggling to master his exasperation, Gio released his breath in a rush. There she was, curls foaming round her lovely face, eyes contemplative, clearly happy and content. He could not explain to her his personal fear that she had put on a fantastic sociable act all day for the benefit of his family while secretly masking her hurt at her less than welcoming reception. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Tired,’ she admitted, sleepy green eyes locked to him while a wicked little current of remembered pleasure travelled through her. ‘But then we didn’t get much sleep last night...’
The faintest colour stung his stunning cheekbones, brilliant dark eyes flaring gold, lean bronzed features breathtaking in their perfect symmetry as his wide mouth took on a sensual curve. She loved him; she loved him so much, she acknowledged helplessly.
‘What are you out here worrying about?’
‘I’m not worrying,’ Billie declared. ‘This is a gorgeous garden and I’m enjoying it.’
Recalling the window boxes and pot plants she used to keep at the apartment, Gio felt his conscience ping. Just as quickly he recalled the hollow sensation he had suffered when, following her disappearance, he had seen those plants dead and withered and as always he buried the memory deep of that period in his life. ‘I should’ve bought you a house with a garden a long time ago.’
‘My only experience of gardening was visiting my granddad’s allotment as a child,’ Billie confided quietly. ‘He used to plant vegetable seeds for me. That was in the days before the betting shop and the drink pushed him into a less active lifestyle.’