Craving Her Enemy's Touch

The queue for the London flight was diminishing fast and his agitation increased. Giovanni had told him she’d acted as if she’d known everything. But how? He stalked over to the desk again, the operator who’d denied him passenger information earlier giving him a suspicious look.

Maledizione! Where was she? It was as if she’d just vanished. That or she’d got through security so quickly because she hated him. He didn’t blame her. He hated himself right now. He should have found a way to tell her, found a way around the promise he’d made to Seb and her father. Hadn’t he done just that so he could have a weekend affair with her? So why hadn’t he been able to do the same with the truth of the accident?

Angrily he stabbed his fingers through his hair and marched away from the check-in desk. Even his charm had deserted him as he’d tried to find out if Charlie had checked in or even what flight she had booked. Now what? Book on the next flight to England?

Suddenly his attention was caught as he saw a woman hurriedly leaving the terminal building and quickly he raced after her. His heart beat like a drum with the hope that it was Charlie, that she’d changed her mind, but once outside in the evening sunlight he couldn’t see her. Taxis pulled away in rapid succession. He had no idea if she was in one—or if it had been her.

More deflated than he’d ever been in his adult life, he stood as everyone bustled past him, hurrying to or from the airport, all seemingly happy. The roar of jet engines as they soared into the sky sounded like a death knell. Each time he heard one, his heart died a bit more. She could be on board.

But what if she wasn’t?

What if the woman he’d seen, the one he’d wanted to be Charlie, was her? Where would she go?

Realisation hit him. There was only one place she’d go to be alone with memories of her brother. One place she’d be sure he or his staff wouldn’t be. But should he go there and disturb her?

The answer was simple. He had to. He had to find her and tell her everything, explain why he’d kept the secret. She already hated him. He didn’t have anything to lose. He’d rather she hurled accusations at him than disappear with a revelation like that on her mind. Purposefully, he strode back to the car park and set about the tedious task of negotiating Milan’s traffic.

The drive to the hotel proved almost impossible as a minor bump had closed the most direct route, forcing him down narrow side streets and testing his patience to the full. All the while he imagined her there, with the car that had been at the launch, alone and hurting. Hurt he’d caused.

With a big sigh of relief he pulled up at the hotel, jumped from the car, tossed the keys at the doorman for parking and went through the revolving doors. Slowly he made his way towards the room that had become a temporary showroom for the sleek red beast that had consumed Seb so utterly. Benign and innocuously it sat there, its secrets hidden within its beauty. The silence of the room hit him. Quickly he looked around, but couldn’t see her.

Then a small movement caught his attention at the far end of the room. She was there, sitting at a table with her back to him. Relief rushed through him at top speed. Cautiously he moved towards her.

* * *

Charlie sat, totally lost in thought, the feeling of betrayal stinging more than a swarm of bees could. The two men she loved had betrayed her. She looked down at the cup of coffee, now very cold, as if it could answer her problems, tell her what to do.

Why had she come here? Why hadn’t she just got on the plane and left? Because she needed answers and she couldn’t go anywhere until she got them. The only problem was that Alessandro held those answers—and he’d just driven away from her at top speed.

With a sigh she looked at the sleek red car. The secrets locked within it had only just started to slip from its powerful clutches.

‘Why, Seb?’ She whispered the question aloud but silence came back at her, a painful echo.

Suddenly a sizzling sensation hurtled down her spine and she knew she wasn’t alone. There was only one person who had that effect on her. The man she hated and loved with equal passion. Alessandro Roselli.

‘Haven’t you done enough damage already?’ The venomous tone of her words surprised her as much as him, but she kept her back to him, looking resolutely at the car.

‘I did what I had to.’ He came to stand beside her but still she didn’t look at him.

‘Of course you did.’ The crispness of each word was colder than a frosty morning. ‘You did exactly what you needed to do to keep your name from being dragged through the dirt.’