Living the Charade(31)

Miller felt a spurt of anger take over from the intense pain that thought engendered, and latched onto it.

He might not want to continue things with her, but that didn't give him  the right to treat her so poorly. It wasn't as if she would suddenly  develop into a needy person who wouldn't let him go. She had known it  was going to end. What she hadn't expected was that she would enjoy  being part of a couple so much. She had been so fiercely independent for  so long the thought hadn't occurred to her. But with Valentino... He  made her feel so much. Made her want so much. Was that why he was  avoiding her so thoroughly? Had he guessed her guilty secret?

The thought that he had horrified her. She might feel as if she was  ready to face a lot of things she hadn't before in her professional  life, but personally she was very far from ready to "squeeze the fear".  Certainly not with a man who would never feel for her the same way she  felt for him.

But it was one thing to deceive her workplace about her relationship  with Valentino, which she had hated doing, and quite another to deceive  Valentino's loving family. She didn't think Valentino would care if she  corrected Katrina.

'Actually, Valentino isn't in love with me.'

'Oh, I wouldn't be so sure. He might not have said-'

Miller put her hand on Katrina's arm. 'I only met Valentino last week.  The only reason I'm here with him now is because he helped me out of a  bind and pretended to be my boyfriend.' She saw Katrina's eyes widen  with unbridled curiosity and shook her head. 'Don't ask-it's a long  story. Suffice it to say I became unwell, Valentino helped me out,  and...here I am. But I'm going home tomorrow.'

Katrina turned compelling blue-grey eyes on her. 'But you have feelings for my brother?'

Miller inclined her head. No point in denying what was clearly obvious  to Valentino's sister. She shrugged. 'Like every other woman on the  planet.'

'So you're going to do what he does?' Katrina gently chided.

Miller's brow scrunched in confusion.

'You're going to make light of it?'

'No, you're wrong. I don't make light of anything.' She gave a  self-deprecating laugh. 'I'm way too serious; it's one of my faults.'

Katrina pulled a face. 'I know my brother can be intensely brooding and  unapproachable at times, but don't give up on him. He's protected  himself from getting hurt for so long I think its second nature to him  now. After our father's death he changed, and not-'

'Giving away family secrets again, Katrina?'

A biting voice savagely cut through his sister's passionate diatribe  and Miller cringed. He stood behind her, legs braced wide and larger  than life in a superbly cut tuxedo that made him look even more like a  devil-may-care bad-boy than his jeans and T-shirts.

'Hello, little brother. Are you having a good time?' Katrina greeted him merrily.

'No. And I need to go. I'll see you at the track tomorrow, no doubt. Miller?'

He held out his arm for her to take and Miller did so, but only because  she didn't want to cause a scene in front of his sister. 'It was lovely  to meet you, Katrina.'

'Likewise.' Katrina leant in close. 'Don't let his scowl put you off. He's harmless underneath.'                       
       
           



       

Oh, she was so wrong about that, Miller thought miserably. Valentino  had the power to hurt her like no one else ever had, and she was really  peeved she had given him that power over her. Because it was her own  stupid fault. He'd been honest right from the start.

Halfway across the room, Miller tugged on his arm. 'I might stay on a bit longer, if that's okay?'

God, when had she been reduced to sounding like a Nervous Nelly?

'Why?'

Because I don't want to go upstairs with you in this mood and have you rip my heart to pieces.

'I'm having a good time.'

'I don't want you talking to my family about me or my father.'

His voice was cold and she now wondered if he really was leaving  because he needed to get sleep and prepare for the race tomorrow, or  because he assumed she'd keep trying to wheedle secrets out of his  family about him.

'I didn't ask Katrina anything,' she denied. 'She assumed that you had  feelings for me. We both know you don't and I told her this whole thing  was fake.'

Valentino grabbed her elbow and pulled her to the side of the room to let a couple pass by.

'Why would you say that?'

Miller forced herself not to be intimidated by his frown. 'Because I don't like being dishonest and I like your family.'

'This thing stopped being fake the minute we had sex and you know it,' he growled.

Miller's hopeful heart skipped a beat. Did he mean that? Could his  black mood be because he had strong feelings for her and just didn't  know how to express them?

'What is it, then?' She knew she was holding her breath but she couldn't help it.

He raked back his hair in frustration and glowered at the glittering crowd of doyennes behind her. 'I don't know. Good fun?'

Good fun?

Stupid, desperate heart.

'Look, I'm sorry. I've had a terrible day and I don't want you talking  about my father. The man died racing a car. Everyone needs to get over  it and move on.'

'Like you have?'

His scowl at her quietly voiced question didn't bear thinking about. 'Don't psychoanalyse me, Miller. You don't know me.'

'Only because you hide your deepest feelings under solid cement.'

She thought he would try and make light of her comment. When he didn't  she realised how stressed he really was. She also realised that her  breathing had grown harsh, and the last thing she wanted to do was argue  with him the night before a crucial race.

'Valentino, your sister didn't mean any harm. She was boosting me up  because she thinks that you protect yourself against being hurt.' A  conclusion she had also drawn after talking to him that day in the park.

'That's ridiculous.'

'Is it?' Miller asked softly, her heart going out to this wounded,  gorgeous man. 'Or is it that you believe that your father didn't love  you enough to quit racing? Because I know that tomorrow's race has been  playing on your mind, and I've seen enough to guess that maybe you're a  little angry with him.'

A flash of insight hit her as she recalled how stiff he had been in his mother's company-a woman she knew he loved dearly.

'Maybe even with your mother-although I'm not sure why that would be.'

'Don't confuse your mother issues with mine, Miller,' he snarled.

Miller gasped. 'That's a horrible thing to say. My mother did her best  and while you've helped me see that I've blindly followed her dreams  instead of my own that wasn't her fault. It was mine. I didn't have to  give up my artistic aspirations. I chose to because it suited me at the  time.' Miller felt as if he'd torn a strip off her and left her  bleeding. 'Now, I can see I've overstayed my welcome, so if you'll ex-'

'Don't leave.'

Miller's stomach was in knots and she was shaking. She had to leave  before her runaway mouth said anything more she might regret. 'I'm  tired.'

'I don't mean right now. I mean tomorrow. Quit your job and travel with me. Come to Monaco next week.'

Miller stared at him. The tinkling chatter of happy guests faded to a  low hum. He didn't look completely comfortable, but was he serious?

'Why?' she blurted out.

'Why does there have to be a reason? Haven't you had fun the last few days?'

Miller smoothed her brows. 'You know I have. But it's not enough to sustain a relationship.'

'Why put a label on what's between us?'

Miller paused, taking in the offhandedness of his question, his effortless arrogance.                       
       
           



       

Oh, God, he wasn't talking about having a relationship with her. Not a  real one, anyway. She was the only one here with long-term on the brain.

'I...can't.'

She knew if she took him up on his offer it would mean a lot more to  her than it did to him, and she knew herself well enough to know that it  would be hell on her self-esteem. It would also be repeating the same  mistakes she had made in the past-because following him around the world  would be following his dreams at the expense of her own.

Reluctantly, she shook her head.

'Why not?' He sounded frustrated. 'You hate your job.'

'I don't hate my job.'

He made a patronising noise and swung his arm in an arc. 'It's not what you want to do.'

'How would you know? You never ask me what it is I want-you just tell  me.' She knew that was slightly unfair but she wasn't about to correct  herself right now. This was about protecting herself from his clear  intent to change her mind for his own selfish purposes.

'If you don't want to come just say so, Miller, but don't use your job as an excuse.'

'What has got into you?' she fumed. 'You've been like a bear with a  sore head all day, you've ignored me all night, and now you're trying to  steamroller me again to get what you want.'

'Because I always get what I want.'

Miller rolled her eyes. 'That's arrogant, even for you.'

He shoved a hand in his pocket, pulling the divinely cut tuxedo jacket  wide in a casually elegant move redolent of a 1950s film. 'You didn't  seem to mind it this week.'