Page 33 of Bound By The Italian’s 'I Do'

Gianni showered and dressed. He’d spent the night in his own cabin. He’d been looking forward to spending his first night in it—sleeping in an opulent room with all the amenities a man could need, knowing how hard he’d worked for it and that no one could take it from him was a thrill that never grew old—but he’d been unable to settle. Sleep had been elusive. Every time he closed his eyes, it was Issy he saw, huddled on the floor, humiliated and vulnerable.

He’d put the order through to set sail for St Lovells before the sun had even risen and asked for the marriage papers to be destroyed. The captain had been able to comply with the first request. It was the second that was a problem. Believing the happy couple wanted the papers lodged as soon as possible, the captain had paid—well, Gianni had paid—for a member of the ministry to take a speedboat to thePalazzo delle Festeand collect the documents. Working back through the time line, Gianni estimated the official had arrived when he and Issy had been in the games room. All the crew had been under his strict instructions not to enter or disturb them unless specifically asked. Worse still, the bribed official had already lodged the papers. To disentangle them from their joke of marriage would now take an annulment.

That would teach him to give someone else power to spend his own money without limits, he thought wearily.

The marriage disentanglement was something that could wait. For now, it was Issy at the forefront of his mind. He knew he shouldn’t care about her state of mind but that didn’t stop his chest sharpening every time her image flashed in his head. Seeing as that was every other second, his chest felt like it had an ice pick jammed in it.

He found her on the sundeck, dressed in a long-sleeved sheer white kaftan eating her breakfast. She looked different, her hair tied in a loose ponytail, not a scrap of make-up on her face. She looked younger.

Breathing deeply to quell the tempest raging in his stomach, Gianni put his phone on the table and took the seat across from her. She didn’t look at him, concentrating on the plate of eggs on toast with sides of bacon and mushrooms she was steadily making her way through, pausing only to pour herself more coffee from the cafetière. She added cream from the jug then a heaped spoonful of sugar, stirred vigorously, took a sip and then picked her cutlery back up and continued to eat.

Helping himself to coffee and a selection of the fruit, yogurt and pastries also laid out on the table but untouched by Issy, he had to force the food down his throat and into his stomach. He had no appetite.

‘How long are you going to ignore me for?’ he asked when her plate was empty and he could no longer tolerate the silence.

She responded by helping herself to a chocolate croissant and pretending not to hear him.

‘I appreciate you are angry with me but you only have yourself to blame. You hustled me, Issy. You brought me here to distract me so your sister could set a bomb off in my company.’

That made her still. For a moment he thought she would speak but the moment passed when she took another bite of her croissant.

‘I know this will disappoint you but your plans have been thwarted. I warned my cousin as soon as I discovered what the two of you were up to.’

There was the slightest flicker on the face that still refused to look at him.

‘I knew in London that you were a hustler,’ he continued conversationally. ‘So I cloned your phone. Once I realised what you and your sister were up to, I had your phone locked away in my cabin. I will return it to you when this is all over and there is no longer danger in allowing you to communicate with Amelia.’

She pushed her chair back from the table and got to her feet. Still not even acknowledging his presence, she plucked an apple from the fruit platter and stepped away.

A flash of anger scalded him. ‘I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised at your silence. Your father had little to say for himself either when Alessandro and I confronted him with his corruption.’

For the beat of a moment her foot hovered in mid-air before she spun around and, ponytail swishing, stormed back to the table and grabbed hold of Gianni’s phone. Moving too quickly for him to react, she raced to the railing and hurled it overboard.

Open-mouthed, hardly able to credit what she’d just done, Gianni watched Issy stroll back inside without once turning back to look at him.

Fury like she’d never known raged through Issy as she stormed over to the first member of the crew she came across. Realising her anger must make her look like a harpy, she took a deep breath before saying, ‘Excuse me, but can I borrow your phone please? I still can’t find mine.’

Leanne, probably even younger than Issy, bit her lip and dropped her stare.

Confused at her reaction, Issy put a hand to Leanne’s arm. ‘Are you okay? I’ll pay for any roaming fees.’

Leanne shook her head. ‘I can’t. It’s more than my job’s worth.’

‘What, lending me your phone? What do you mean?’

‘We’ve all been ordered not to lend you our phones if you ask,’ she mumbled.

‘Ordered by who?’ But she knew. Who else could it be?

‘Mr Rossi.’

Issy gritted her teeth and filled her lungs to stop herself biting poor Leanne’s head off. ‘Look, Leanne, it doesn’t matter what orders Gianni has given you. This ismycharter. Please, let me use your phone, just for five minutes. Please.’

But the young woman only shook her head. ‘This is your charter, but he’s my boss.’

That swimming feeling in her head she’d experienced in the games room when she’d finally comprehended that Gianni knew exactly who she was started up again. She was almost afraid to say, ‘Your boss? How?’

Eyes laden with sympathy met hers. ‘Because this is his yacht.’

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