door closed behind him. She felt as if she was trapped inside with all her lies, each one she had told circling above her head like a hornet waiting to strike.
She gave a little shiver and turned away—only to confront the door that connected Vittorio’s sleeping quarters with hers. She drew in a prickly breath and walked across the cloud-soft rug. She lifted her hand to turn the key, but before she had even placed her fingers on the key she heard the sound of the door being locked from the other side. Her hand fell back by her side, her breathing shallow and uneven as she thought about what had motivated Vittorio to lock the door himself.
Was it because he didn’t trust her? Or, even more alarming, was it because he didn’t trust himself?
Ally took her mobile into the bathroom with her and called her sister, only to be told by one of the clinic staff that Alex was having a particularly bad time of it and had had to be heavily sedated again.
‘I am afraid she began self-mutilating,’ the psychiatric nurse informed her soberly. ‘Somehow she found something sharp. The doctor has changed the dosage of her medication, so she should be feeling better in a day or two. I will tell her you called.’
Ally felt her stomach clench in anguish. ‘Do you think I should come straight there as soon as I can get a train or a flight?’ she asked.
‘No, it is better for us to deal with her. Sometimes visits by family members can make things harder in the early stages of rehabilitation. We have a wonderful therapist who is assigned to Alex. She is confident she can bring your sister back to full health. Try not to be too concerned—she is in very good hands. We just have to be patient until she is stabilised.’
In spite of the clinic nurse’s assurances, Ally felt sick withworry as she closed the face of her phone. But she had other things to be concerned about besides her sister’s health. In less than two hours she had to meet the press in her role as Vittorio Vassallo’s mistress. How on earth would she maintain her composure if he decided to kiss her, as she was almost certain he had intended to do earlier? Her lips were still buzzing from that feather-light touch that had come so tantalisingly close to her mouth.
She wasn’t used to men like Vittorio Vassallo. He was too powerful, too arragantly male, too disturbingly attractive, and way too clever to be outwitted by someone as hopelessly inadequate as her. She was living on a razor edge; every moment was fraught with the possibility of being exposed. She realised she would have to tread even more carefully now. The last thing she needed was to fall in love with Vittorio Vassallo. Not only was he way out of her league, since the moment they had met she had done nothing but deceive him…
After a short rest Ally had a cool shower—only to come out of the en suite bathroom and find Ghita had unpacked her suitcase. She was now trying to unlock Alex’s case, fortunately without success.
‘It’s all right,’ Ally said, securing the towel around her breasts. ‘I don’t need that one unpacked.’
The young housemaid looked at her in surprise. ‘But Signor Vassallo told me to unpack all of your things. I must do as he says or I might lose my job.’
Ally took the case and, sliding open the large wall-to-wall wardrobe, shoved it in and closed the door again. ‘There,’ she said, turning to smile at the girl. ‘Now he’ll never know. It can be our little secret.’
Ghita still looked worried. ‘You do not have much with you,’ she said. ‘I pressed your clothes while you were in the bathroom, and it did not take me long. You only have one evening dress in that bag. You will need more than that if you are to live with Signor Vassallo.’
Ally unwound the towel she had turban-like on her head, keeping her gaze averted from Ghita’s curious one. ‘I don’t think I will be staying here all that long. I am sure you have seen manyof his women-friends
She gave a little shiver and turned away—only to confront the door that connected Vittorio’s sleeping quarters with hers. She drew in a prickly breath and walked across the cloud-soft rug. She lifted her hand to turn the key, but before she had even placed her fingers on the key she heard the sound of the door being locked from the other side. Her hand fell back by her side, her breathing shallow and uneven as she thought about what had motivated Vittorio to lock the door himself.
Was it because he didn’t trust her? Or, even more alarming, was it because he didn’t trust himself?
Ally took her mobile into the bathroom with her and called her sister, only to be told by one of the clinic staff that Alex was having a particularly bad time of it and had had to be heavily sedated again.
‘I am afraid she began self-mutilating,’ the psychiatric nurse informed her soberly. ‘Somehow she found something sharp. The doctor has changed the dosage of her medication, so she should be feeling better in a day or two. I will tell her you called.’
Ally felt her stomach clench in anguish. ‘Do you think I should come straight there as soon as I can get a train or a flight?’ she asked.
‘No, it is better for us to deal with her. Sometimes visits by family members can make things harder in the early stages of rehabilitation. We have a wonderful therapist who is assigned to Alex. She is confident she can bring your sister back to full health. Try not to be too concerned—she is in very good hands. We just have to be patient until she is stabilised.’
In spite of the clinic nurse’s assurances, Ally felt sick withworry as she closed the face of her phone. But she had other things to be concerned about besides her sister’s health. In less than two hours she had to meet the press in her role as Vittorio Vassallo’s mistress. How on earth would she maintain her composure if he decided to kiss her, as she was almost certain he had intended to do earlier? Her lips were still buzzing from that feather-light touch that had come so tantalisingly close to her mouth.
She wasn’t used to men like Vittorio Vassallo. He was too powerful, too arragantly male, too disturbingly attractive, and way too clever to be outwitted by someone as hopelessly inadequate as her. She was living on a razor edge; every moment was fraught with the possibility of being exposed. She realised she would have to tread even more carefully now. The last thing she needed was to fall in love with Vittorio Vassallo. Not only was he way out of her league, since the moment they had met she had done nothing but deceive him…
After a short rest Ally had a cool shower—only to come out of the en suite bathroom and find Ghita had unpacked her suitcase. She was now trying to unlock Alex’s case, fortunately without success.
‘It’s all right,’ Ally said, securing the towel around her breasts. ‘I don’t need that one unpacked.’
The young housemaid looked at her in surprise. ‘But Signor Vassallo told me to unpack all of your things. I must do as he says or I might lose my job.’
Ally took the case and, sliding open the large wall-to-wall wardrobe, shoved it in and closed the door again. ‘There,’ she said, turning to smile at the girl. ‘Now he’ll never know. It can be our little secret.’
Ghita still looked worried. ‘You do not have much with you,’ she said. ‘I pressed your clothes while you were in the bathroom, and it did not take me long. You only have one evening dress in that bag. You will need more than that if you are to live with Signor Vassallo.’
Ally unwound the towel she had turban-like on her head, keeping her gaze averted from Ghita’s curious one. ‘I don’t think I will be staying here all that long. I am sure you have seen manyof his women-friends
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