Surrendering All But Her Heart. Melanie Milburne

him with a combative look on her face.

      ‘I hope it chokes you,’ she said.

      He lifted the glass against hers in a salute and said, ‘To a long and happy marriage.’

      Her gaze wrestled with his. ‘I’m not drinking to that.’

      ‘What will you drink to?’

      She clanged her glass against his. ‘To freedom,’ she said, and took a sip.

      Angelo watched her as she moved across the room, her body movements stiff and unfriendly. She took another couple of sips of her drink, grimacing distastefully as if she wasn’t used to drinking alcohol. ‘I drove past your studio on the way here,’ he said. ‘Very impressive.’

      She gave him a quick off-hand glance over her shoulder. ‘Thank you.’

      ‘I have a project for you, if you’re interested,’ he said.

      She turned and looked at him fully. ‘What sort of project?’

      ‘A big one,’ he said. ‘It’s worth a lot of money. Good exposure for you, too. It will bring you contacts from all over Europe.’

      She stood very still before him, barely moving a muscle apart from the little hammer beat of tension at the base of her throat. ‘Go on,’ she said, with that same look of wariness in her gaze.

      ‘I have a holiday villa in Sorrento, on the Amalfi Coast,’ he said. ‘I bought another property nearby for a song a few months back. I’m turning it into a luxury hotel. I’m just about done with the structural repairs. Now it’s time for the interior makeover. I thought it would be a good project for you to take on once we are married.’

      ‘Why do you want me to do it?’ she asked.

      ‘You’re good at what you do,’ he said.

      Her mouth thinned in cynicism. ‘And you want a carrot to dangle in front of me in case I happen to find a last-minute escape route?’

      ‘You won’t find an escape route,’ he said. ‘If you’re a good girl I might even consider using your linen exclusively in all of my hotels. But only if you behave yourself.’

      The look she gave him glittered with hatred. ‘You’ve certainly got blackmail down to a science,’ she said. ‘I didn’t realise you were this ruthless five years ago.’

      ‘I wasn’t,’ he said, taking another leisurely sip of his drink.

      She tightened her mouth. ‘I’ll have to think about it,’ she said. ‘I have a lot of work on just now.’

      ‘How capable is your assistant?’ Angelo asked.

      ‘Very capable,’ she said. ‘I’m thinking of promoting her. I need someone to handle the international end of things.’

      ‘It must be quite limiting, not being able to do the travelling yourself,’ he said.

      She lifted a shoulder in a dismissive manner. ‘I manage.’

      Angelo picked up a small photo frame from an intricately carved drum table next to where he was standing. ‘Is this Lachlan as a toddler?’ he asked.

      Her deep blue gaze flickered with something as she glanced at the photo. ‘No,’ she said. ‘It’s not.’

      Angelo put the frame back on the table and, pushing back his sleeve, glanced at his watch. ‘We should get going,’ he said. ‘I’ve booked the restaurant for eight.’

      ‘I told you I’m not having dinner with you,’ she said.

      ‘And I told you to behave yourself,’ he tossed back. ‘You will join me for dinner and you will look happy about it. I don’t care how you act in private, but in public you will at all times act like a young woman who is deeply in love. If you put even one toe of one foot out of line your brother will pay the price.’

      She glared at him, her whole body bristling with anger. ‘I’ve never been in love before, so how am I going to pull that act off with any authenticity?’ she asked.

      Angelo gave her a steely look. ‘Make it up as you go along,’ he said, and put his glass down with a dull thud next to the photo frame. ‘I’ll be waiting outside in the car.’

      Natalie waited until he had left the room before she picked up his glass. She mopped up the circle of condensation left on the leather top of the table with the heel of her hand and then wiped her hand against her churning stomach.

      Her eyes went to the photo of Liam. He was standing on the beach with a bucket and spade in his dimpled hands, his cherubic face smiling for the camera. It had been taken just hours before he died. She remembered how excited he had been about the shells he had found. She remembered the sandcastle they had built together. She remembered how they had come back to the pool with their parents to rinse off. She remembered how her mother had gone inside for a rest and her father had left her with Liam while he made an important phone call …