When he’d said they were going to the Grand Palace Hotel, she’d had an instant image flash in her head of being at that hotel with Stefano before, but just as the memory had crystallised another, equally vivid image had come to her of throwing a jug of water over him in his London boardroom, in front of the entire board of directors.
By the time they arrived at the hotel fifteen minutes after setting off, she wanted to tell the driver to turn round and take them back. She felt sick. Memories had come back to her—flooded back—and she wanted to sit somewhere on her own and make sense of them all.
Because none of it made sense. She’d already remembered arguments between them and had accepted them without dissection. She would have been more surprised if they hadn’t argued. She remembered missing him when he went away on business without her and, shaming as it was, remembered the fears and insecurities that had crept up on her.
What she hadn’t remembered until only a few minutes ago, and which Stefano hadn’t bothered to mention, was that she’d left him. More than that, she’d confronted him in his boardroom and lost total control of herself in front of everyone. What she still couldn’t remember was why or what the aftermath had been.
She had almost the entire picture there before her but the biggest, most significant pieces were still missing. Her painfully thudding heart told her that she didn’t want to remember.
The car door was opened and before either of them had moved from their seats, lights flashed around them.
The Tech Industry Awards, if one was to go by its name, promised nothing more than a bunch of eggheads crowded together in a room congratulating each other on their supreme eggheadedness. The truth was that these awards were prestigious and glamorous enough to rival the ceremony for any national film or music award. These were the awards the big players wanted and paid a fortune to sponsor. It was estimated the collective worth of the attendees this evening would make up the largest concentration of money in the world, and the press was out in force to cover it.
Above them, thick dark clouds had gathered. Anna gave an involuntary shiver. A storm was on its way and her foreboding only grew.
She made sure to keep her face inscrutable as she climbed out and took Stefano’s hand. Ignoring the shouts from reporters throwing inane questions at them—she distinguished at least three asking ‘who’ she was wearing—they went through the cordon opened for them. Waving at the thick crowd of spectators, they walked up the red carpet where only a select few journalists were allowed to stand.
As they passed one reporter doing a piece for camera, she caught some of what was being said.
‘Rumours of the Moretti marriage being over have been scotched by the couple’s first public appearance in six weeks.’
And then the reporter swung round and thrust the microphone in Stefano’s face.
‘If you could choose one award to win tonight, which would it be?’
‘I couldn’t choose just one,’ Stefano answered with the easy smile that made millions of women around the world long to bed him. ‘But whether we win anything tonight or not makes no matter. Moretti’s is the leading software manufacturer and app developer in the world, and the technology my dedicated staff are developing will change the face of the world as we know it.’
‘Fabulous!’ The reporter gave the vacuous grin that meant she hadn’t listened to a word of his answer and immediately turned her microphone to Anna. ‘What do you have to say, Anna, about the reports on your marriage?’
Anna responded with an identical vacuous smile. ‘What reports are you referring to?’
The reporter’s composure wavered for only a second. ‘The rumours that you had separated. Are we to believe that you two are still together?’
Stefano put his arm around her waist and opened his mouth to speak, but Anna couldn’t bear to hear another of his lies.
She smiled and made sure to inject sweetness in her voice. ‘I think my presence here with my husband can speak for itself. Enjoy your evening.’
And with a gracious nod and another wave to the crowd, Anna and Stefano were taken inside by a couple of burly bouncers.
His arm stayed around her waist in that protective fashion she’d always so adored. Outwardly he appeared completely unfazed by the reporter’s remarks. He’d buttered her up well for it, she thought cynically. Hadn’t he remarked when she’d been in the hospital that the press were always speculating on the state of their marriage?
If only she could remember those last pieces of the scene, she would know what had come after she’d drenched him in water.
Knowing Stefano as well as she did, she didn’t think it was something he would have easily forgiven her for.
If only she knew what had compelled her to do it in the first place...
Now was not the time to try and work it all out, not in a reception hall filled with industry bigwigs all wanting to shake hands, exchange stories and assert individual dominance. There was a convivial atmosphere, however, as rivalries were set aside for the night, at least superficially.
The Moretti table was situated directly before the main stage and thus in the glare of the majority of the video cameras. Anna kept her head held high as they joined the executives and company nominees who’d been invited to join them on this prestigious night, pretending not to see the curious glances being flashed her way.
Only one member of the UK board was in attendance, the rest from Sweden, Japan and America. She knew with one look that they all knew exactly what had happened in that boardroom. And they knew she had received her P45 for gross misconduct the very next day and had had no contact with any member of staff or with her husband...
Until the morning she’d woken with a bang on her head and her memories wiped.
And now, she remembered...
It explained everything. All the stares she’d received, Chloe’s appropriation of her desk, Stefano’s anger...
She remembered everything.
Everything.
Oh, how she wished she hadn’t. Ignorance had been more than bliss; it had been an escape from the unbearable agony that had become her life.
Stefano put his hand on hers. Her veins turned to ice and she fought not to snatch it away. He whispered something in her ear and she fought not to flinch.
She made sure to keep a smile on her face and play the role of the happy wife. It was the greatest role she’d ever had to play.
When Moretti’s was given its third award of the night and Stefano took to the stage with the innovative hipster who’d been the brains behind it, she clapped as hard as everyone else.
Her pride would not allow her to show publicly that her heart had been irreversibly broken.
But she couldn’t keep it together for ever.
Not long after the halfway point of the evening she rose from the table.
Stefano grabbed her wrist. ‘Where are you going?’
‘To the Ladies’.’
‘Can’t you wait?’ His nostrils were flared, his jaw clenched.
‘What?’ She snatched her hand away. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
As she hurried her way through the tables she became aware that shocked faces were staring at her. Voices at every table she approached dropped to a hushed whisper and there was a furious tapping of phone screens accompanied by more shocked faces.
Fortunately the ladies’ room was empty. She wished there were a window she could crawl out of but if all she could have was a few moments to compose herself then she would take that.
Sucking in some deep breaths, she pressed powder to her white cheeks and fixed her eyeliner and lipstick, then took some more deep breaths for luck and left her brief sanctuary.
The stares and whispers were even more pronounced now. There was still a handful of awards left to be given but Stefano had risen from their table and was taking great strides towards her.
‘We need to go,’ he said, grabbing her hand and practically dragging her to the exit.
‘It�
He didn’t answer or slow his pace. If anything he moved faster.
If he could get her out of the hotel and into his car before the press noticed them, Stefano knew he had a chance. A chance to explain himself before Anna learned of the bomb he’d detonated.
The weather had taken a turn for the worse since their arrival. Thick droplets of rain were falling and the breeze had picked up.
They almost made their escape. The press were too busy huddled together in little clusters, staring at their phones, chattering frenziedly among themselves, to notice the couple slipping out half an hour early or the gathering storm around them.
But then a driver got out of a yellow cab and called out loudly, ‘Anna Moretti?’ and with a violent curse, Stefano knew he was too late.
He’d forgotten his instruction that Miranda book a cab for Anna and to make sure the driver arrived early with a picture of the passenger he was to collect. Stefano had planned to put her in it as his final flourish, to shut the door for her and never see her again.
His plan had worked perfectly.
Success had never tasted so bitter.
At the mention of Anna’s name the press sprang into action.
Pounding feet rushed towards them, a babble of shouted words pouring out so thick and fast they should be incomprehensible. But judging by the pallor of Anna’s face and the tiny stumble she made, she had heard them clearly enough.
His own driver pulled up. Stefano opened the back door himself and bundled Anna’s rigid body inside.
It was only as he slammed the door behind them that he caught a glimpse of Miranda Appleton standing like a vulture next to her magazine’s photographer, a smirk on her ugly, rancid face.
Anna sat like a mannequin pressed against the far door. She didn’t look at him. She hardly seemed to be breathing.
The rain had turned into a deluge and the driver slowed to a crawl. With the silence stretching between them and an air of darkness swirling, it was a relief when they eventually came to a stop at the front of the apartment building. A crackle of lightning rent the sky, illuminating everything for a few brief seconds that were still long enough for him to see the shock carved on her frozen face.
She didn’t notice they’d come to a stop.
‘Anna,’ he said tentatively. ‘We’re home.’
Still she sat there, immobile.
Only when he leaned over to take her hand—Dio, it was icy to the touch—did she show any animation.
Slowly her head turned to face him. ‘Don’t touch me.’
Then, with no care for any passing cars, she opened her door and stepped out into the deluge.
Stefano jolted after her and breathed a tiny sigh of relief that the road was empty of traffic.
Maybe it was the lashing rain that forced her hand but she walked sharply into his apartment building. She bypassed the elevator to take the stairs, her heels clip-clopping without pause all the way to the eighteenth floor.
There was no sign of her exertion when she shrank away from him as he punched in the entry code to their apartment.
She headed straight to their bar, snatched up the nearest bottle and took a huge gulp from it. Then she took another gulp, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and put the lid back on.
Only then did she meet his eye.
She stared at him for an age before her face contorted into something unrecognisable and she smashed the bottle down on the bar with all her strength.
‘Bastard!’ she screamed as the bottle exploded around her, then reached for a bottle of brandy and smashed that too. The single malt went next, all accompanied by a hail of curses and profanities that seemed to be wrenched from her very soul.
The bourbon would have gone the same way had Stefano not sprung into motion—the destruction had happened within seconds—and wrapped his arms around her, trapping her back against his chest.
‘Anna, stop,’ he commanded loudly. ‘You’re going to hurt yourself.’
She thrashed wildly in his hold, kicking her legs backwards and forwards, catching his shin with the heel of her shoe, all the while screaming curses at him.
He winced at the lancing pain but didn’t let her go.
In a way, the pain was welcome. He deserved it.
She caught his shin again and he gritted his teeth. ‘Please, stop fighting me. I know you want to hurt me. I know. And I deserve it. Hit me, kick me, bite me, do whatever you want but please, bellissima, don’t hurt yourself. There’s glass everywhere.’
As if she could hurt herself after what he’d done to her. In the state she was in, he doubted she would feel any pain.
His words must have penetrated for gradually the fight went out of her and she went limp in his arms.
Cautiously he released his hold and braced himself for her to take him at his word and attack him.
Instead, she staggered to the centre of the living room and flopped to the floor. The mermaid tail of her dress made a perfect semi-circle around her. Her chest rose heavily and she lifted her head to stare at him. Misery and contempt pierced him.
Without saying a word, she removed each sparkling shoe in turn. There was a moment when he thought she was going to throw them at him but, after a small hesitation, she flung them to her side.
When she finally spoke there was a metallic edge to her tone that made his veins run cold.
‘Did you enjoy your revenge?’
‘I tried to stop it.’ He knew it was a pathetic thing to say even before her face twisted.
He dragged a hand through his hair and took a deep breath before reaching carefully through the debris of glass for the saved bottle of bourbon.
‘You couldn’t have tried very hard.’ She laughed, a robotic sound that made him flinch. ‘I think your revenge worked. The ruthless Stefano Moretti shows the world that you mess with him at your peril, even if you’re his wife. My humiliation will make front page news everywhere.’
He unscrewed the bottle and put it to his lips. The liquid burned his throat.
‘It was too late to stop it. Miranda must have known I’d change my mind. She made it impossible for me to contact her.’
‘Miranda Appleton? That witch?’
He nodded and drank some more.
‘You’re blaming her?’
‘No. The only one to blame for tonight is me. I set it up.’ After everything that had been said and done between them, the only thing they were left with was the truth. ‘I called her last week, the day after I brought you home from hospital, and gave her a statement. I put an embargo on it that was to be lifted at nine thirty this evening.’
‘And what did your statement say?’ Though she was outwardly calmer, he could see she was clinging to her control by a whisker.
‘That the rumours about our marriage were true and that I would be issuing you with divorce papers tomorrow morning.’
‘Happy anniversary to me.’
‘At the time I thought it fitting.’
‘And all the times you made love to me? Treated me like a princess? Cared for me? Where did that all fit in? I suppose that was to humiliate me privately as well as publicly so that every time I thought of us together in Santa Cruz, the city I love, I would be reminded that I’d been a fool to think I could take you on and win?’
She knew him too well. Better than he knew himself.
Shame rolled through him like a dark cloud. He jerked a nod. There was nothing he could say to defend himself. He didn’t want to even try.
‘The cab? Where was that going to take me?’ she asked.
‘Out of my life.’
She laughed again. He had never heard such a pitiful sound.
‘So, if I’m to believe you’d changed your mind—and in fairness I can see you got cold feet about the cab side of it, so let’s give you the benefit of the doubt about that—what brought the change of heart about? You’ve played me like a violin all week to reach this point so why back out at the last minute?’
‘I’ve been having doubts.’
She trembled but her voice remained steady. ‘Doubts? That’s a good one. Doubts about what?’
‘About whether you really had set out to frame me for adultery and fleece me for as much money as you could get all along.’
Pain lashed her features. ‘That’s what you believed?’
He gripped the bottle tightly. He’d been so caught up with all that had just happened that he’d lost sight of what had driven him to these actions in the first place.
He’d done wrong—he knew that—but she had too.
‘You’re the one who found a strange woman in our apartment and immediately decided I was having an affair.’
She shook her head with incredulity. ‘If you’d come back early from a trip abroad and found a strange semi-naked man in the apartment, what would you have thought?’
Stefano’s heart was thumping violently against his ribs. ‘I do not say I wouldn’t have been a little suspicious but I wouldn’t have made assumptions as you did.’
No, if he’d found a strange man in his apartment wearing his robe, his fist would probably have connected with the man’s face before he’d had time to think.
‘I would have asked you to explain,’ he continued, pushing the thought away. ‘I would have listened to your answer. You didn’t ask for my side. You decided the facts to suit yourself. You swore at me and threw water over me in front of my most senior members of staff. You humiliated me.’
‘You were ignoring me.’
‘When?’
‘That night. I called. It went to voicemail...’
‘My sister who I didn’t know existed had suddenly appeared in my life,’ he interrupted. ‘I had just been told the father I thought had died when I was a child had been alive all these years and had a new family but that there was no chance of me meeting him because he had died a few weeks before. Forgive me if I was too busy trying to make sense of my life to answer my phone.’
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