LITMIR.BIZ

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

      ‘WELL, YOU COULD have knocked me down with a feather. Really!’ Samantha Raybourne’s laugh tinkled melodiously, turning heads in the packed theatre lounge. ‘I’d never thought of you marrying, Ella. Much less snaffling the most eligible man in the country.’

      Ella’s smile froze. Why had she told Donato she wanted to see this play? She should have known opening night would attract people like the dreadful Samantha, who’d once made her life hell. She hated that she’d put herself in this position, an unwilling partner in a public charade. But the constraints had been too great, despite her misgivings.

      ‘What Sam means is congratulations.’ Samantha’s partner spoke. As compère of a reality television show he was adept at reading tension and knew when to intervene. ‘We hope you’ll both be very happy.’

      Before Ella could respond Donato slipped his arm around her waist. His grip reminded her, as if she could forget, of the promise he’d extracted. He’d keep her father from badgering her daily about arrangements for the society wedding he planned and in return Ella would play along in public. Even though it meant maintaining the fiction that their relationship was permanent.

      A wave of stifling warmth enfolded her. She and Donato wouldn’t really marry and it drove her crazy trying to work out why he let her father peddle such a fantasy. What had he to gain? Surely this wasn’t the behaviour of an honest man. Yet everything she’d learned of Donato testified that he was straight down the line, often brutally so. His refusal to explain, and to stop the charade, was a dark blot on a relationship that was otherwise almost too enticing.

      ‘Thanks for the good wishes.’ Donato’s deep rumble sliced through the chatter around them.

      Ella was tempted to blurt out the truth, that the engagement was a lie. But Donato had warned that without the ‘engagement’ he’d stop all involvement with her father. That wasn’t an option, not while her siblings needed Reg Sanderson to repay the money he’d taken.

      She’d grown tired of trying to force the issue. Whatever strange machinations went on between him and her father, ultimately neither could make her marry Donato. In the meantime she could only find relief in the fact that her real friends had no notion of the fake engagement. Only those in her father’s set. Yet guilt and frustration gnawed at her.

      ‘I had no idea the pair of you even knew each other,’ Samantha purred, leaning forward to reveal even more pumped-up cleavage.

      Anger pierced Ella. If she really were Donato’s fiancée she’d take exception to the way the other woman pawed at him, chattering on about a party they’d both attended in Melbourne and giving him that intimate smile.

      But Ella was just his temporary lover.

      She hadn’t let him encroach too far into her world. As for the time they spent on mutual interests, like antiques and art or activities new to her, like sailing and climbing, that didn’t feel like encroachment. Those were pure pleasure.

      In fact, she realised with a hitch to her breathing, all her time with Donato was pleasurable. Their sexual connection had grown into something more complex.

      Ella blinked when Samantha leaned in and said with a saccharine smile, ‘I get so bored when the men talk business, don’t you? Media trends and market growth.’ Beside them their companions were deep in discussion.

      ‘No, I don’t. I find it interesting.’ When Donato spoke of his wide span of investments, she was fascinated.

      ‘But then you’ve always been so serious, Ella. Serious and sturdy.’ Samantha’s violet eyes, their colour as artificial as her smile, swept Ella dismissively. ‘That reminds me. Rumour has it your father’s engaged Aurelio to design your wedding dress. Is it true?’

      Ella shrugged, aiming for nonchalance despite her dismay. Surely her father hadn’t gone as far as organising a dress and hiring the country’s most exclusive designer! This was a nightmare. The sooner it ended the better.

       Except when it ends you and Donato will go your separate ways.

      Ella’s stomach pinched. The thought of Donato moving on to another lover brought bile to her mouth.

      She wanted what they had to last. She enjoyed being with him. No one else had ever made her feel like this.

      The revelation knocked her for six, making her sway.

      Instantly Donato’s arm tightened around her. He looked down, flashing her a reassuring smile before turning back to his conversation, and her stupid heart kicked up pace.

       She wanted to be with him.

      ‘I’m amazed you’ve got Aurelio to agree to design your gown.’ Samantha had taken her silence for assent. ‘His work is exquisite but he prefers to work with petite clients to show off his amazing designs.’ Again that sharp gaze, dismissing Ella’s body as unfashionably rounded.

      ‘Rake-thin women, you mean?’ Ella didn’t bother pretending to misunderstand. ‘I wouldn’t know. I’m not really familiar with his designs.’ She knew the name, of course, but that was all.

      ‘You’re not familiar...?’ The other woman delicately fanned herself. ‘But why would you when you’re not the type he normally dresses.’ Again that horrified survey of Ella’s height and hips.

      Ella told herself to be grateful for the woman’s cattiness. It distracted her from dismay over the revelation of her feelings for Donato.

      Yet Samantha’s words opened old wounds. She’d always made Ella feel like a galumphing elephant, reinforcing all her father’s negativity. She was too big, too serious and dull to be pretty or exciting.

      ‘But then, Donato’s a force to be reckoned with, isn’t he? What are artistic scruples compared with the chance to dress his bride, no matter what her size?’

      * * *

      Donato felt the shift of supple muscle under his arm as Ella straightened. More than straightened. A ruler could lie exactly along her taut spine as she gazed down at the woman before her.

      His skin tightened in a familiar flurry of anticipation as he felt energy radiate off Ella. From the first he’d enjoyed sparring with her.

      Only this time her focus wasn’t on him.

      He watched Samantha What’s-her-name wave a languid hand as she spoke in that awful arch tone about dresses and Ella’s size.

      Understanding hit and with it came fury. Red-hot fingers of rage dug into his chest, squeezing his lungs. His hand clamped so hard at Ella’s waist she swung round, looking up questioningly.

      Was it imagination or did her eyes look bruised? The idea disturbed him. Then as he watched something in her expression changed and her lips tilted up in a smile.

      Only he saw that it didn’t reach her eyes.

      ‘I don’t care what some dressmaker thinks of my body,’ Ella said, her gaze holding his so that his pulse grew heavy. ‘But Donato likes it.’ She leaned towards him, flagrantly ignoring the other

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