A Shadow of Guilt(9)

Just then she heard a sound like the door handle jiggling and she flinched and stood up, her heart thumping at the thought of seeing Gio again. What had she been thinking? She couldn’t do this. She was in the act of turning to leave when she heard a calm mellifluous voice announce, ‘Sorry to keep you waiting, Ms Ferranti, he’ll see you now.’

Gio’s body was locked tight as he waited for Valentina to appear in the doorway and when she did, in jeans and a T-shirt, with her hair loose over her shoulders in chestnut waves, a whole new tension came into his body.

Her T-shirt was moulded over the firm globes of her breasts. Gio felt like he couldn’t breathe and dragged his gaze back up to those feline amber eyes. The same eyes that had been haunting him all week.

He put out a hand and said stiffly, ‘Please, won’t you sit down?’

Valentina hovered uncertainly just inside the door, which Agata had closed behind her on her way out. She shook her head. ‘No, I’d prefer to stand.’

Gio inclined his head and stayed behind his desk, as if that could offer some protection.

Valentina crossed her arms then, inadvertently pushing her breasts together and up, and Gio nearly groaned out loud. He cursed himself—he was acting like a hormonal teenager.

More tersely than he intended, he rapped out, ‘You’ll have to forgive me for being a little surprised to see you. After all, it was hardly your intention the last time we met.’

Valentina found herself floundering, badly. Seeing Gio again last week, her response then had been visceral and a reflex to years-old grief and anger. After all, she hadn’t seen him since the funeral. But now that raw emotion was stripped away somewhat and left in its place was something much more ambiguous. And a physical awareness of the man which was very disturbing.

A huge window behind him looked out over the racing ground and stands, the sea beyond. But Valentina could only see him in a dark polo shirt which was stretched across a hard muscled chest, and long, long legs clad in lovingly worn jeans. Without even looking properly she could imagine his thighs—like powerful columns of sheer muscle.

When he and Mario had been on horseback they’d been a sight to behold, but Gio even more so. He’d moved with such fluid grace that it had been hard to tell where he ended and the horse began. Her brother hadn’t had such an innate ability…. Valentina gulped. She couldn’t think of that now.

She struggled to recall his words, something about her not wanting to see him again. Her throat felt scratchy. ‘No … it wasn’t my intention.’

One of Gio’s black brows arched. ‘And it is now?’

Valentina cursed herself for ever thinking of this as a plan of action and tried desperately to articulate herself. ‘Yes. Well, it’s just that … things have happened in the past week.’

Gio came around his desk then and perched on the corner, legs outstretched before him. His scent tantalised Valentina’s nostrils and just like that she was flung back in time to when she’d turned seventeen, weeks before Mario’s death. She’d taken her moped to Gio’s castello to look for Mario for their father, who’d needed him to do chores. In those days Valentina hadn’t needed any excuse to go to Gio’s castello or the track.

She’d gone to the stables looking for Mario and had seen no one, aware that she was disappointed not to see Gio either. And then a horse had appeared out of nowhere behind her. A huge beast. Valentina had jumped back, startled, ashamed of how intimidated she was around horses.

Someone had come up behind her and before she knew what was happening she’d been lifted effortlessly onto the horse’s bare back, and Gio had been swinging himself up behind her, an arm snug around her waist, thighs hard around hers. She’d been so shocked to find herself that high off the ground and with Gio in such close proximity that she’d struggled for breath as terror and excitement had constricted her lungs.

He’d said in her ear, ‘You’ll never get comfortable with horses if you don’t get used to riding them.’

He’d put the reins in her hands with his hands over hers and for about half an hour they’d walked around his sandy gallops with Gio murmuring words of encouragement and tuition in her ears. Terror had turned to exhilaration as she’d allowed herself to relax into Gio’s protective embrace and when her brother had still failed to materialise Gio had told her that he’d left before she’d arrived, borrowing one of Gio’s collection of motorbikes to get home.