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heaven, had she been a one-night stand? Or worse? And she knew whatwas worse. No, no. She discarded that melodramatic suspicion. If she’d been a hooker, he would hardly be so sure her son was his. Dear heaven, what was she thinking? It was as if her brain had just been unhinged, torn open to let all her most deep-seated anxieties flood out.
    In silence, Gianni reached into the built-in bar and withdrew a glass. He poured another brandy and settled it meaningfully into her trembling fingers.
    Had she drunk a lot when he knew her? Been a real boozer with a strong head? She raised the glass to her lips, the rim rattling against her teeth. The nightmare just went on and on. What did he want from her? She was too terrified to ask, was in a state of complete panic, incapable of rational dialogue.
    She didn’t even notice where the limo had been going until he helped her out of the car. It was a big country house hotel about three miles out of town. Faith had dined there on her twenty-sixth birthday. Even her father, who liked to make a show of sophistication, had winced at the cost of that meal.
    â€˜I don’t want to go in here…just take me home,’ she mumbled. ‘I’m not feeling very well.’
    â€˜You can lie down for a while,’ Gianni assured her. ‘Get your head together.’
    â€˜You’re not listening to me—’
    â€˜You’re not saying anything I want to hear.’
    â€˜Did I ever?’ she heard herself whisper as he pressed her into the lift and the doors slid shut on them.
    His superb bone structure tautened. ‘I don’t remember,’ he said flatly.
    Her tummy twisted. Was he making fun of her?
    Gianni stared down at her from his imposing height. His mouth curled. ‘I guess you could say I don’t want to remember. It’s irrelevant now.’
    Her head felt woozy, her legs weak and wobbly. As the lift disgorged them into a smoothly carpeted reception areacontaining only one door, he settled a bracing hand on her spine. ‘I don’t want to be here,’ she told him afresh.
    â€˜I know, but I have a habit of getting what I want.’ He made her precede him into an incredibly spacious and luxurious suite. Closing the door, he bent, and without the slightest hesitation scooped her off her feet.
    â€˜What are you doing?’ she gasped.
    â€˜You should’ve said no to that second drink. But possibly I did you a favour. The alcohol has acted on you like a tranquilliser.’ Thrusting open another door, he crossed the room beyond and laid her down on a big bed. ‘The doctor will check you out in a few minutes. I brought him down from London with me.’
    â€˜I don’t need a doctor.’
    Gianni studied her without any expression at all and strode back out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar.
    A doctor did come. He was middle-aged and suave. If he gave her his name, she didn’t catch it. She was finding it impossible to concentrate, and she was so tired, so unbelievably tired, it took almost incalculable effort to respond to his questions…
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    Gianni watched Milly sleep. Grudging pity stirred in him. She looked so fragile, and it wasn’t an illusion. Right now, Milly was like a delicate porcelain cup with a hair-fine crack. If he wasn’t very careful, she would break in half, and he might never get her glued back together again. Connor needed his mother. Connor did not need a mother having a nervous breakdown over the identity crisis that was soon to engulf her.
    Porca miseria , Gianni swore inwardly. He wanted to wipe Robin and Davina Jennings from the face of the earth for screwing Milly up. She wasn’t the same person any more. She was a shadow imprint. Anxious, nervous as a cat, apologetic, scared. She didn’t know him from Adam and yet she had just let him bring her back to his hotel suite. In hercurrent condition she was as foolishly trusting as a very young