Craving Her Enemy's Touch

He looked at his watch. ‘You will be late for your flight.’

‘Please.’

He sighed and then put his hand over hers as it clutched at his arm. ‘He’d been drinking heavily that day—and the drugs...’ He shrugged, his face apologetic. ‘They made him wild, irrational. We couldn’t stop him.’

‘We?’ she whispered, scared to let go of his arm in case she fell to the floor with shock.

‘Sì, Signor Roselli and myself. Of course, we said nothing after the accident that would blacken your brother’s name.’ He took her hand and held it between both of his and looked at her, genuine concern in his face. ‘I thought you knew.’

‘I did,’ she bluffed, not wanting to tell him she’d only just discovered what now appeared to be the truth. ‘It hurts to hear it again. I’m sorry.’

‘Now you must go; you will be late for your plane.’ The relief on his face only cemented the bad images of her brother, under the influence of drink and drugs, driving the car. How had she not known he had problems? How had he managed to hide it so well from her?

‘Yes, my plane.’ She forced the words out slowly. They sounded hollow to her ears, but she picked up her small case and walked away from this man and the truth that had shattered everything she’d held dear.

Once inside the building she ran to the Ladies, her insides churning alarmingly. She splashed cold water over her face, not caring about her make-up, just wanting to stave off the nausea. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, as if for reassurance.

Could it be true?

She didn’t want it to be, but certain things were slotting into place, suddenly becoming much clearer. Seb had dropped out of the final races of last year’s season, claiming injury, but had dismissed it as they’d spoken on the phone, telling her to stop mothering him. Had he had a problem even then?

‘No, it can’t be true... Sandro would have said something.’ She spoke aloud to her shocked reflection.

Then it hit her like a brick being hurled through the air. Alessandro Roselli had been covering for her brother, not to keep Seb’s good name but to save his own damn reputation. To do that he’d dragged hers through the mire too. That photograph of them kissing backed it all up.

She pressed her palms to her face and took in a deep breath. There was only one person other than Alessandro who could confirm this.

Her father. He’d flown out to Italy as soon as news of the accident had reached them. Seb had died just hours after he’d arrived, but her father would know if drugs and alcohol had been the cause.

She frowned at herself in the mirror. Why hadn’t he told her? Why had he kept it a secret and then still supported Alessandro? There was only one answer. It wasn’t true and he knew nothing of the cover-up story that was being used. The report must be a cover-up. It had even been left in easy view, just waiting for her to find it.

Frantically she searched in her bag for her phone and with shaking fingers pressed call on her father’s number.

‘Hello, Charlie.’ Her father sounded cautious and not his usual self.

‘Is it true, Dad?’ She didn’t waste any time on pleasantries.

On the other end of the phone her father sighed, then horrifyingly she knew it was. She clutched the washbasin with her free hand, watching the colour drain from the shocked face with hollowed eyes which looked back at her from the mirror.

‘Oh, Dad, why didn’t you tell me?’ She shook her head in disbelief, feeling ever more disconnected from the woman staring back at her in the mirror.

‘You didn’t need to know. Where are you, Charlie?’ She could hear the restrained panic in her father’s voice and her heart clenched.

‘On my way home. We’ll talk soon. I have to check in or I’ll miss the flight.’

‘Charlie?’

‘Yes, Dad.’

‘See you soon.’

Her heart constricted as if a snake were torturing her, squashing every last beat from her, and she couldn’t say anything else. Instead she cut the connection before she cried, before she lost complete control. That was something she had to save until later. Much later. Right now she had a plane to catch.

CHAPTER TWELVE

ALESSANDRO STALKED AROUND the check-in desks, scanning the throng of passengers, but with each passing minute his impatience increased. Where was she? He still didn’t want to accept what had drawn him to the airport instead of his meeting, but when the call from Giovanni had come through he’d been glad he was only minutes away. He couldn’t let her leave without talking to her, checking she was all right.