Craving Her Enemy's Touch

by Rachael Thomas

  Did that mean it wasn’t hate? Or did it mean it wasn’t love? Two powerfully strong emotions and they were tearing her apart. So what did she want it to be? Hate would mean staying in the past, never moving on, and she couldn’t do that any longer. Love would mean forgiveness.

  She stood and smiled, pushing her jumbled thoughts about all she’d just read to the back of her mind. ‘Yes, I have a plane to catch.’

  ‘Sì, sì,’ he said as he walked towards the same door Sandro had left from an hour earlier. Where was he now? In his meeting, not giving her a second thought? Or was he relieved she would now be about to leave Italy and his life?

  She pondered those questions as the car left the test track and within a few minutes they were on the busy roads and heading back to Milan. Charlie sat in silence, watching the countryside flash past, so caught up in her emotions she didn’t even give the car they were in any thought. Her mind was with the man she loved. A man she should never have fallen in love with.

  ‘Goodbye is hard, no?’ The driver spoke, dragging her from her despondent thoughts.

  ‘Yes,’ she said before she’d realised it, adding quickly, ‘but only because it is also saying goodbye to my brother.’

  She hadn’t expected this personal conversation and was glad to see they had reached Milan. Very soon she would be on her own, which was what she craved more than anything right now.

  Thankfully, the traffic congestion took the driver’s attention away from the conversation and she smiled at his exasperated sighs as they negotiated the streets towards Alessandro’s apartment.

  ‘I will get a taxi from here,’ she said as she got out of the car outside the old building that she still couldn’t believe was home to such a modern and powerful man.

  ‘No, my instruction was to bring you here,’ he said as he pressed the required numbers into the keypad, obviously used to letting himself in. Was this Sandro’s right-hand man? Could he tell her the truth about the accident report? ‘Then we go to the airport.’

  She sensed he wanted to deliver her to the airport as soon as possible. Maybe that would be for the best. Alessandro had obviously asked that she be escorted all the way, to ensure she had actually left. ‘Thank you. I will only be a few minutes.’

  The driver handed her a key and she rushed up the stairs, into the apartment, trying not to think of all that had happened there in such a short time. Not wanting to linger, she grabbed her already packed case and left. As she shut the door, she closed her eyes briefly, pushing memories of being with Sandro to the back of her mind. But it wasn’t easy. Even though she knew she shouldn’t, she loved him. How did you switch that off? Finally, she went back down to where the driver was waiting.

  Moments later they were once again in the traffic, heading towards the airport. She kept her eyes firmly fixed ahead of her as she thought of all that had happened. Would Seb have approved of her and Sandro—would he have been happy they were together?

  ‘Did you know my brother?’ She asked the question casually. This would be the last chance she got to talk to anyone from the test track and she wasn’t going to waste this opening, no matter how small.

  ‘Sì, he was a good driver, a very good driver, but things got too much for him. We tried to help.’ His attention was kept on the busy road, his words had been said in such a distracted way, he obviously hadn’t thought about them.

  So it was true. She tried hard to keep her voice normal when all she wanted to do was scream and shout, but she couldn’t. It was obvious this man thought she knew all about it.

  ‘I didn’t realise you’d helped him too,’ she said as calmly as possible, luring him into divulging more of the truth. Each word he said confirmed all she’d seen in the report.

  ‘Alessandro helped most, but I was also there that night and it became my secret too.’

  What kind of sister had she been, not to have noticed Seb’s problems? Guilt spiked cruelly at her. Not a hint of what she’d read had reached the press. Part of her clung desperately to the hope that this was because it was all part of an elaborate fabrication by Alessandro. She didn’t want to believe it of Seb; it was too painful.

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,’ he said and she opened her eyes to see him looking at her whilst they’d stopped at a red light.

  ‘I do still find it upsetting, sorry.’ She dabbed the corner of her eye with her fingertips, glad when the lights changed and they moved off, taking his gaze from her. Did he know he’d walked into her trap?

  ‘The airport,’ Giovanni said as the terminal buildings came into view and the relief in his voice would have been comical if she hadn’t been so strung out by his conversation.

  He pulled into a space and got out, but she wasn’t done yet. Whatever he knew, she had to find out. Good or bad, she just had to hear it. Could it be any worse than all she had just read?

  ‘Please—’ she put her hand on his arm, using all her feminine charm, bombarding him with questions. ‘You said you were there too. How bad were Seb’s problems? Did they really cause the accident?’

  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.

  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.’

  ‘You’ve got it all wrong, Charlie.’

  ‘Charlotte,’ she snapped and looked up at him, confused by the anger and the raw betrayal which filled her. ‘And I haven’t got it wrong at all.’

  ‘It isn’t what you think.’ He moved to stand in front of her, obscuring her view of the car, her link to her brother.

  She stood up and moved past him, towards the car, anything other than stay beneath his intense gaze. ‘So you deny you brought me here under the pretence it was what Seb wanted, seduced me so that you could get the ultimate photograph for the press and then keep the truth of Seb’s problems from me.’

  ‘I never meant to hurt you, Charlie.’

  ‘Charlotte!’ She whirled round and stood to face him, catching her breath at the hard look in his eyes. Where had the loving man she’d spent the weekend with gone—or was that also part of his game plan?

  ‘I can see you aren’t prepared to listen to anything I have to say.’ He sat down in the chair she’d just vacated but couldn’t disguise the tension and irritation in his body.

  ‘Too right I’m not. Everything else you’ve said has been lies.’ Memories of the last time they’d made love, the tender words of Italian he’d whispered to her, slipped into her mind and she realised they too must have been lies.

  She turned from him and closed her eyes against the pain. She’d opened her heart to him, given herself and her love, only to find he’d used her as a scapegoat. Behind her, his silence confirmed everything she thought and, de
spite the pain, she had to hear it all. Maybe then she’d stop loving him.

  Purposefully, she returned to the table, pulled out another chair and sat down. She was going to get to the bottom of this if it was the last thing she did. Part of her didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want to accept that her brother had become embroiled in such a world. But she had to know—everything.

  ‘I saw the report, Sandro.’ He didn’t say anything but his firm gaze held hers.

  ‘Giovanni told me, or rather confirmed, about the drink...’ her breath hitched in her throat and she could hardly form the words as she sat at the table with him ‘...and drugs. Why didn’t you?’

  He leant forward in the chair, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped together. His expression was one of concern as he looked up at her and his eyes met hers. ‘It was what your father wanted.’

  She shook her head. ‘Don’t use my father. He would never keep such a thing from me.’ Even as she said the words she recalled the brief call she’d made to him at the airport. The silence as she’d challenged him. He hadn’t admitted anything, but his silence had been deafening.

  ‘Have you spoken to him?’

  ‘At the airport, yes.’ She looked into his eyes and the fight began to slip from her, receding like the tide going out. ‘I don’t understand why he’d do that.’

  ‘He didn’t want you to know. He wanted to keep your memories of Seb untainted.’ The gentleness of his voice was almost too much and she shook her head rapidly, wanting to deny everything she was hearing. Her father might have wanted to protect her, but what about Sandro? What were his motives?

  ‘And what about you? Why did you lie to me?’ Fierceness exploded from deep within her, a need to shield herself from the fallout of his deceit.

  ‘What do you think would have happened if the press had found out?’ His firm question almost knocked the breath from her as she realised the implications of what he said. Shock sank in, washing away the strength she’d just found, and he reached out and took her hand.