She’d missed him terribly when he’d been sent away to a university in Rome, his father not wanting him to forget his Italian roots. She’d been thirteen at the time, a very skinny thirteen, the only girl in her class not to have hit puberty. She’d only seen Sergio three times a year after that, at Easter and Christmas when he’d flown back to Sydney for a few days, then for the two weeks during July when the family had holidayed at the family villa on Lake Como.
Oh, how she’d loved those holidays! What fun the two of them had had together, swimming and boating and just generally larking around.
Not the last time, though, she recalled, Sergio spending most of his time in his room, studying for his final exams. By the following year, their parents had already separated, Sergio had gone to Oxford for further studies and she’d been on her way to Broadway, and stardom. Their relationship—which she’d imagined had been close—had suddenly no longer existed. She’d missed her big brother at first but soon she’d been consumed by her career and the attention that went with it. Out of sight had eventually been out of mind.
They’d crossed paths only once in the years since, at an after-concert party in London. She hadn’t recognised him at first, he’d been so handsome and impressive looking, having finally filled out his tall, lanky frame. But his eyes had been the same. Hard to forget eyes like that. So dark and so beautiful, and she’d felt unsettled by the hardness in his gaze. It hadn’t taken her long to realise he’d still been angry with her mother—and with her too, she’d supposed—his politeness having a chilly edge to it.
There’d been no chilliness in his eyes at his father’s funeral, however, only sadness and a gentleness, which by then she hadn’t felt she deserved. Thank God she’d been wearing dark glasses, because behind them she’d been weeping silent tears of wretchedness and remorse. She knew that she should have contacted both him and his father after the divorce. Should have shown some regret and gratitude. Some decency! But she’d been too caught up at the time with the sudden burst of fame, with finally being on the verge of fulfilling her mother’s rabid ambition, and yes, Bella, admit it...fulfilling your own. She could excuse herself by saying she’d only been eighteen, but that was no excuse. No excuse at all!
Bella had been quite overcome when Sergio had written down his private number on a business card and told her to ring him if she ever needed anything, anything at all. His compassionate and unexpectedly generous gesture had threatened the last of her emotional control, so when a very attractive redhead had come up to them and linked arms with him, she’d stuffed the card into her handbag, said a hurried goodbye and fled before she’d burst into noisy tears in front of everyone.
Tears threatened again now. Tears of frustration and misery. She hadn’t slept well last night. She hadn’t slept well in ages. Truly, she could not go on like this. She had to get away. Away from everyone who she knew down deep didn’t have her best interests at heart. They only wanted what they could get out of her, which was why they kept pressuring her to take on more and more work. Bella had acquired a long list of hangers-on over the last few years. At present she had a manager, a Hollywood agent, a PA, a publicist, plus her own personal stylist. Then, of course, hovering in the background, was her mother.
They all wanted their cut. All wanted their piece of her.
She had no time to herself. No time for a personal life. No time for anything but work.
Lately, she’d begun to feel as if she were on a roller-coaster ride that never stopped. She never stopped. Well it had to stop. She had to stop. And she had to stop right now!
‘So stop being such a lily-livered coward and ring Sergio back,’ she ordered herself.
Stiffening her spine, Bella ignored her suddenly pounding heart, grabbed her phone and hit redial.
CHAPTER THREE
SERGIO WAS SITTING at the table with the best view of the river, sipping a glass of Scotch on the rocks and doing his best to relax, when his phone rang.
His heart jumped, his gut twisting into knots as he glanced at the caller ID, a wave of relief hitting him with the force of a tsunami. Because it wasn’t Alex, ringing again to say they would be even later. The caller ID was blocked. Which meant it was Bella, calling him back. Thank God. Sergio suspected he would not have been able to sleep tonight if she hadn’t. He would have had to do something really ridiculous, like hire a private investigator to find out her number, or her address. Or some way of contacting her.