Page 36 of Bound By The Italian’s 'I Do'

The first signs of Issy’s weight loss began around the time Amelia started work at Rossi Industries, bookmarked in a series of photos of her smiling brightly with various equally smiley children. Her hair was that beautiful deep chestnut in every picture so he guessed she must have dyed it for their first meeting. So intent had he been on studying Issy and gauging from the timestamps that it had taken her four months to reach the size she still maintained that it was a while before he noticed all the photos were taken in a hospital and that many of the children captured had little or no hair.

‘You own this island?’ she whispered in horror, backing herself against the door on her side.

‘Don’t worry, your research skills didn’t let you down.’ Why he should want to reassure her on this aspect was anyone’s guess. ‘I brought St Lovells two years ago. I got all involved in the sale to sign a non-disclosure agreement to keep my name secret from the press—I know I can’t keep it secret for ever, but I hope to enjoy it for a short while in peace. Your research skills didn’t let you down with thePalazzo delle Festeeither. The company I employed to build it also signed an NDA for the same reasons. It doesn’t matter if they discover it’s mine now—I’ve had anti-paparazzi technology embedded into it.’

‘Since when has being in the press bothered you?’

He shrugged. ‘The press are like the hangovers I’ve been getting since I turned thirty—wearisome.’

‘Maybe you shouldn’t court them then,’ she suggested tartly.

‘I don’t court them, I engage with them, and always for business reasons. Believe me, I have never invited the paparazzi to send a drone over my yacht to take photos of me.’

‘No, that would be your girlfriends.’

‘My lovers,’ he corrected. ‘Girlfriend implies a form of permanence.’

Something spasmed across her face at his mention of the word lover. ‘Don’t worry, no woman would ever be stupid enough to date you thinking it could lead to for ever.’

But Issy knew more than a few of his lovers—hateful, hateful word—would have entered a relationship with him with their eyes wide open only to be dazzled and then blinded by the light he exuded. She’d had years to prepare and protect herself against his sexual magnetism but the reality of Gianni in the flesh had penetrated the thick stone wall she’d built.

‘I should hope not,’ he murmured, then looked outside the window. ‘This island is the perfect sanctuary. There’s tourist development on one side but it’s limited. I’ve taken the south side for my personal use. There is no docking without permission. Any journalist stupid enough to send a drone over the island can expect to have it shot down.’

‘And any kidnap victim can expect to receive zero help.’

‘You will have half the island to explore and do as you wish in.’

‘Great, does that mean I can swim to the nearest island?’

He pulled a face. ‘If you like but I wouldn’t rate your chances. Even the strongest long-distance swimmer would find it a challenge swimming forty kilometres without support.’

‘You can’t do this, Gianni. You know you can’t.’

‘How many times do I have to tell you that I can? And, please, stop with the outrage. What the hell did you think would happen if I found out what you were up to? You’re a clever woman—you must have imagined the scenario.’

Feeling her temper rising, Issy closed her eyes and took a deep breath. ‘Where’s my sister?’

‘In Italy with Alessandro.’

‘Voluntarily?’

‘I have no idea.’

‘It can’t be voluntary. She’d never go anywhere alone with that beast.’

His gaze swiftly darkened. ‘Do not speak of my cousin in that way.’

‘Or what? You’ll hit me?’

He blinked as if surprised she would even suggest such a thing. ‘Never.’

‘Then what? Your cousin is a monster and you are too, and I want proof my sister is safe.’

‘I would give you proof if you hadn’t thrown my phone into the sea.’

‘Give me my phone back then so I can call her.’

‘No.’

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