by Betsy Swann
Safely arrived in Las Vegas, her sister let her know, accompanied by a photo of a stunning brunette, all big hair, cherry-red lipstick and huge sunglasses, who smiled brightly into the camera.
Bella was right, Izzy had to admit. Nobody would ever recognise this American Barbie as her ethereal blonde twin sister. Now she could only hope that Bella’s daring scheme would turn out a success, and that Luca would finally find it in him to tell her that he loved her. In the meantime, all she could do was keep as much as possible out of her new boss’s way and somehow get through the next couple of weeks.
***
When Izzy returned home after her first day at the ‘Vallorini’, she was utterly shattered. The morning had been pleasant enough while Carla was around to help her settle in, but as soon as Enzo’s usual PA had left, things had gone from bad to worse. Enzo had asked her to prepare an extremely complex report for an important meeting the following morning without filling her in with the necessary background information, so she had spent endless hours doing the necessary research before she could even begin to put pen to paper. It had taken her ages to finish the job. When she’d finally placed the report on Enzo’s desk, even the most workaholic colleague had left hours ago.
She sighed. She couldn’t blame Enzo for being unreasonably demanding or difficult. He had to assume that she knew everything that was needed to write that report. After all she had been the managing director’s PA for some time now - only that in truth this was her first day at the office, and that it had taken her half an hour just to find the relevant files for her research in Luca’s office.
After enjoying some crispy baguette and a mozzarella and tomato salad on the terrace, she had a hot shower, dried and brushed her hair until it fell down to her waist like a cascading mass of silver and changed into her cream coloured silk pyjamas. Holding a steaming mug of hot chocolate she settled on one of the comfy white sofas in the living room and suddenly felt utterly alone. Enzo’s cold behaviour and his insulting words had left her more vulnerable than she wanted to admit to herself at the time, and thankfully she had been too busy afterwards to ponder on it. But at this very moment, with nothing else to distract her from the memories but the hot chocolate, she wished her parents were here to comfort her and take her into their arms.
Slowly she pulled out the secret drawer in her antique walnut coffee table. The two letters inside were her greatest treasure, and they always made her cry. Who would have thought that both her parents would only find the strength to tell her the truth from beyond the grave, never during their life time, just like they had never talked to each other to sort out their problems? How could two fully grown adults possibly behave in such a way, making each other – and their children – utterly miserable due to their stubbornness? No matter how much Izzy tried to understand, this would always stay a mystery. Her parents had been madly in love, but already at the first hurdle they had fallen because they hadn’t trusted each other.
Just like Enzo had not trusted her.
She carefully unfolded the first letter, the one her mother’s lawyers had sent her upon her 21st birthday together with the notification about the huge inheritance she was able to access from this day forward. Utterly bewildered Izzy had read her mother’s account of her relationship with Luke Jones, Izzy’s father. How they had met, she the rich hotel heiress, he the poor artist, and how they had fallen deeply in love. How her family had warned her that Luke was just after her money, and that she hadn’t believed a word of it until all her dreams came crushing down when he unexpectedly asked for a large sum of cash. At that very moment her mother’s heart had broken. Her family had been right after all, she had known. Luke had wanted her for her money. And so she had run and got engaged to Bill Hetherington, the rich and handsome owner of a chain of luxury hotels. The man her family had chosen for her. Just days after the engagement it became clear that she was pregnant with twins, Luke’s babies, but Hetherington married her anyway.
Even now, reading the letter for the thousandth time, Izzy felt tears stream down her face when she got to the part where her mother had appeared on Luke’s doorstep with their two baby girls in her arms, leaving fifteen minutes later with just one baby. It was unbelievable. They hadn’t even discussed that terrible misunderstanding that hovered above their heads. During all this heartache her parents had never spoken again and the following year, when her mother had Nick, Hetherington’s son, she died in childbirth, and it was too late.
Izzy put her mother’s letter back into the drawer and took out the one she had found in her father’s writing desk after his death, her own name written neatly on the envelope in his bold, artistic handwriting she knew so well.
Please forgive me for sending this letter, her father had written, but how could I possibly tell it to your face that your mother and I tossed a coin about who got which baby?
He went on to explain how Clarissa, the love of his life, had left him after he’d asked for a large amount of money. He needed it to pay for an operation for his critically ill cousin, but Clarissa hadn’t even asked for the reason. She had just run, and the next thing he’d heard about her was when a glossy magazine covered the news of her high profile engagement to Bill Hetherington. And then, eight months later, she suddenly stood on his doorstep, the two baby girls in her arms.
Believe me, Izzy. The day you came to stay with me was the luckiest day of my life, although at the same time I lost both your mother and your twin sister.
He had named her Clarissa after her mother, he wrote, and this, in combination with their close likeness made his heart ache for the lost love of his life every single day of his life.
Why, oh why had he not told her the truth about her mother, why had he pretended she’d died after giving birth to her? Had he assumed it was too painful for her to know that Clarissa had left them? And what had made him believe it was better for her never to meet her siblings, or even know about their existence?
All my life I have regretted that I never explained to your mother why I needed that money. Clarissa’s betrayal broke my heart. She had hurt my pride and not trusted me. In the end she died not knowing the truth. I beg of you, Izzy, never let you and the man you love come to the point where a simple explanation could sort out the problems you are facing, and both of you are too stubborn to speak. I have learned my lesson. Love and trust go hand in hand. If you are not prepared to jump over your own shadow, you will always lose, never gain.
Wiping the tears off her cheeks Izzy put the letters back into the secret compartment and closed the drawer. Her father’s advice was great, wonderful, but it was not as easy to follow as he seemed to imagine. She had tried to tell Enzo the truth, again and again, but he wouldn’t listen. He had not wanted to hear Samuel Carson’s explanations either, and the letter she had written to him a couple of days later had been returned to sender. Had Enzo only spared two minutes of his time, he’d now know that Samuel was Bella’s godfather and her late mother’s good friend. By pure chance he had been in that nightclub where Bella partied in the early hours of her 21st birthday, when somebody had spiked her drink so that she’d gone all woozy. Samuel had rescued his goddaughter by bringing her to the safety of his flat - a good deed that had been totally misinterpreted by the paparazzi and vastly blown out of proportion. Samuel Carson had acted like a modern day knight in shining armour saving his godchild only to be slaughtered by the press as an aging playboy finding pleasure with yet another young lover between the silken sheets of his king-sized bed in his penthouse love nest.
Frowning Izzy drank a sip of her hot chocolate. How she hated all these lies. Lovers who didn’t confide in each other. Readers who couldn’t trust what was written black on white in the papers. Children whose parents never dared to tell them the truth. Everything in Izzy’s mind screamed to perform better in her own life, to aim for the truth, to be outspoken and not fall into that terrible trap of not telling, not trusting. And still her parents’ history had repeated itself when Enzo had so willingly beli
eved the worst of her and refused to give her a chance.
The problem was that you needed two people to talk and to trust. If one of them was not willing, the whole wonderful plan didn’t work out. It was all good and well to have one party wanting to explain. If the other part declined to listen or read the other person’s letter, it was all to no avail. Enzo had cut her short when she had wanted to tell him what had happened. One needed two to tango, and he had refused to take the necessary steps. He had simply cut her out of his life.
Strangely enough, now Enzo acted as if she was the one with the mercenary heart, and he was the wounded party. In truth, it was the other way round. For a short moment, when he had suddenly stormed into that little café off Oxford Street where Samuel Carson had brought her to have lunch and calm down after learning that she had a twin sister, a half-brother and millions in the bank as well as a chain of luxury hotels in Italy, she had hoped that Enzo had changed his mind. That he believed her and wanted to apologise, but she had been mistaken. He had only followed her to claim his diamond ring back and had left as soon as she had handed it over. So much for the person with the mercenary heart.
Izzy lifted the mug to her lips savouring the sweet comforting waft of the hot chocolate. Keep calm, she told herself. Everything will be all right. She would keep busy in the office and avoid her new boss as much as possible in her role as his personal assistant. The way he disliked her Enzo wasn’t interested in spending much time with her either, so it wouldn’t be too difficult to go their different ways until her twin sister had completed her mission - and then she would never have to see Enzo again. Izzy sighed.
Now the only one to be convinced of the brilliance of that plan was her heart.
CHAPTER EIGHT
After studying the report that Izzy had left on his desk, Enzo closed his eyes and leant back in his chair. She had done a good job, he had to admit. No wonder his brother sung her praises. With the information Izzy had collated for him up his sleeve he’d be more than well prepared for tomorrow’s meeting. There was no doubt that Izzy was highly professional, although he hadn’t made life easy for her today.
Which left only one problem. Due to an unexpected emergency he had to return to Rome tomorrow right after the meeting. He certainly didn’t want to leave Izzy behind in London, just in case she suddenly decided to fly off to Vegas in chase of his brother. Too bad he didn’t need a personal assistant in Italy. Flavia, his PA in Rome, was a great asset to the company and she’d be shell-shocked if he turned up with an ‘assistant’ to help her carry out her duties. He wouldn’t be surprised, if she handed in her resignation over the matter. So he had to find another reason to lure Izzy into accompanying him to Rome.
It took ten minutes and a long stare across Green Park to figure out the best possible course of action. Enzo smiled as he thought of the new role he’d propose to her. She’d be the perfect candidate for the position unless she didn’t accept his offer, and then what? He didn’t know, but then again she probably wouldn’t refuse. Design had always been her passion, but he couldn’t run the risk to be fobbed off with her blunt refusal over the phone. He had to sell this to her face to face.
He pulled Izzy’s personal file out of his drawer to check her address. Their flight was scheduled for lunchtime tomorrow, so he needed to tell her tonight. He checked his watch. Shortly before ten. At this time she should still be awake.
Enzo frowned when his car came to a standstill in a parking bay opposite the elegant red brick apartment building. Had he got the address right? No way could a personal assistant afford a flat in a luxurious riverside development directly opposite the Tower of London, especially not the penthouse. He glanced all the way up to the roof. The light in the top floor apartment was switched on, so Izzy was definitely still awake. He headed towards the entrance. Dio, Luca didn’t pay for her flat, did he?
The receptionist who should normally be sitting behind the desk in the generous entrance hall, was nowhere to be seen. Forcefully Enzo strolled past the reception counter towards the lift and pressed the top button. Within seconds the lift doors slid open and he was on his way up.
‘Come on, Izzy, open up,’ he mumbled after pressing the bell and waiting for a minute or two. What took her so long? Impatiently he pressed the bell again.
‘Relax, Nick,’ he heard Izzy’s voice behind the door before it swung open. ‘I was just about to go to bed. I had a challenging day at work today, so…oh!’
She looked beautiful in her cream silk pyjamas and sexy as hell. Instantly Enzo felt himself harden as if he’d never seen a woman in silk pyjamas before, but bloody hell, she was hot. And she had been expecting Nick Hetherington!
A fierce stab of jealousy pierced though him. ‘I’m sorry to disturb your evening,’ he bit out. ‘You seem to be expecting someone else, but we have a change of plan tomorrow, and I need to discuss it with you.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘What if I don’t want to talk about this now? It’s late and you can’t possibly think I’m happy to work 24/7.’
‘Nobody likes to work 24/7,’ Enzo admitted, ‘but this is some kind of emergency, so please hear me out. It won’t take more than a few minutes.’
She looked at him, her periwinkle-blue eyes wary. ‘Okay then, I’ll give you five minutes. Would you like to come in?’
‘Yes, please.’
He followed her into a vast living space with vaulted ceiling and exposed beams. It was beautiful and airy, the perfect mixture of clever architecture and stunning interior design. Enzo stared at it in disbelief. So this was Izzy’s home. Incredible.
‘Wait here,’ she said gesturing towards the white sofas. ‘I’ll quickly get changed. I’ll be back in a second.’
So the sexy silk pyjamas were for the benefit of Nick Hetherington, not for him to enjoy. Damn her. Alone the thought of the man touching her made Enzo’s stomach clench. Carson, Hetherington, his brother…all welcome to slide their hands under the silk of her pyjama top to fondle her breasts and touch the delicate, pointed nipples he had once caressed under a starry sky on the beach. Izzy had seemed so utterly innocent then, so sweet and trusting and just perfect, as if all his dreams had come true, and he had swallowed her lies like the fool in love he’d been. A virgin! How damn stupid could a man be?
Clenching his fists he stepped out onto the roof terrace. Once more he was shocked by the beauty of the place. The view onto the lit Tower of London and Tower Bridge was absolutely breath taking, and the sleek loungers surrounded by potted trees and a few well-placed fairy lights invited to relax on a warm summer evening. It was an oasis of calm above the roofs of London and totally unaffordable for the likes of Miss Jones from Suffolk. So who the hell paid for this luxury? Carson? Hetherington? Luca?
Not his brother, he decided. Luca would have told him about this and anyway, Izzy had already given this address when she had applied for the job. Carson was out of the picture by now, Enzo guessed, which left Hetherington. Another red hot wave of jealousy swept over him. Taking a deep breath he held on to the railing and looked down to the river.
Calm down, he urged himself. Relax. The girl was not worth his emotions. All he needed was putting up with her for another fortnight or so, until Luca had fallen for someone else.
‘So you’ve discovered my roof terrace,’ he heard Izzy’s soft voice from behind.
Enzo turned round.
He had imagined she’d put on a bath robe to cover her pyjamas, but instead she had changed into jeans and a simple cream blouse. Instantly his fingers itched to touch the soft material and feel the warmth of her skin underneath. Enough. No way, he’d fall under her spell again. His mission was to keep Izzy away from Luca until it was safe enough to let her out of his sight. So what if she was like a drug in his blood? He knew he must spend a night with her to get her out of his system, it was inevitable, but this would be on his own conditions. Not heated by jealousy and certainly not here, in the flat Hetherington was paying for.
‘Nice view,’
he said shifting back to business. ‘Shall we go inside to discuss things?’
She nodded. ‘Okay. Would you like a drink?’
‘No thanks.’ He followed her back into the living room. ‘It’s getting late. Better I let you know about your new assignment straight away.’
Her eyes grew wide. ‘What new assignment?’
‘You’ll be flying to Italy with me tomorrow,’ he informed her. ‘Not as my personal assistant but in your capacity as a designer. It’s basically the same kind of work you did for Hetherington in Clarissa’s team. I’d like you to improve the interior of our Italian hotels, starting with the flagship hotel in Rome.’
A little smile danced around her lips, and he could have sworn that her eyes lit up for a second, but then she lowered her lids so he couldn’t be sure what she thought of his proposal.
‘A big task,’ she finally said. ‘So what makes you think I’m up to this? There is no Clarissa at my side this time to help me plan this through.’
His eyes glanced around the room. ‘You designed this?’
She nodded. ‘The basic structure was already in place, of course,’ she answered. ‘But yes, the rest is my work.’
‘That’s enough reference for me,’ he let her know. ‘Something along these lines is exactly what I have in mind for the hotels. Comfortable but elegant at the same time; interior spaces that instantly appeal to the eye. My guests should feel at home the moment they step over the threshold. Do you get what I mean?’
‘I do.’ She leaned back against the wall. ‘So what is this job offer? A permanent affair or just something for the next couple of weeks until I’ve come up with my ideas for the new design?’
Enzo shrugged his shoulders. ‘Depends what you make of it. For the time being you’re my personal assistant with a background in design - and that’s where I want to tap into right now. Are you okay with that, with leaving tomorrow?’
She seemed not sure, the way she bit her lower lip with perfect white teeth. Probably she was pondering if it was a good idea to follow him abroad after Hetherington had seen them kissing. He could understand her concern. It would be foolish to anger the cow she was milking.