CHAPTER THREE

F LORA WAS MESMERISED by the view of Rome from this vantage point. She was so engrossed she didn’t hear Vittorio return and nearly jumped out of her skin when he said from behind her, ‘Your hair is down.’

She whirled around to see a look of shock on his face. She put her hands to her head. This was why her aunt had insisted on her keeping it straight when out in public. Its natural state was curly and wayward and untameable. Untidy.

‘I took it down because my head was sore.’ She started bundling it up again but Vittorio put out a hand.

‘No, stop.’

She did. Dropped her hands. She realised now that he didn’t look shocked, disgusted. He looked shocked, transfixed. She felt a swooping sensation in her belly.

He said, ‘It’s...beautiful.’

Flora felt heat come into her face. She was glad of the darkness. ‘Thank you. It was my mother’s... I mean, I inherited it from her.’

‘Your mother was English.’

‘Yes. My father was...Italian.’ Obviously. Her father had been her uncle’s brother. She felt seriously woolly-headed around this man.

She said, ‘I should go. I really need to get back.’

‘You have a boyfriend?’

Flora’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head. The thought of having had the luxury of time to have a boyfriend was almost comical. She shook her head. ‘No, no boyfriend but I do have responsibilities and where I live...it’s a little bit different. I have to be back—’ She stopped. Vittorio Vitale didn’t need to know the minutiae of her living arrangements.

She said, ‘Look, I just need to go now, okay? Thanks for the food...and for—’

‘Losing you your job?’

She looked at him, surprised. ‘It wasn’t your fault. I dropped the tray.’ Well, it had been a little his fault, she’d heard someone call his name and had seen him and she’d been in such shock that she hadn’t looked where she was going and had bumped into something. But she wasn’t about to reveal that.

‘If I hadn’t tried to help you it might not have been so bad.’

Flora made a face. ‘Perhaps. Although, my track record for holding trays wasn’t great to begin with. That was the third one I’ve dropped.’

‘Ah,’ Vittorio said.

‘Funnily enough my uncle didn’t consider learning how to hold trays full of glasses to be of importance in my schooling.’

‘And yet that’s what you’re doing.’

Vittorio sounded curious. Flora went back into the suite. ‘I just need to get my bag and then I’ll be gone.’

‘I’ll give you a lift.’

Flora was putting her cross-body bag over her head of unruly hair. She tensed. ‘That’s really not necessary, I’m out on the edges of the city.’

‘I insist. I want to make sure you get home safely.’

Flora thought quickly. Maybe she could get him to drop her off somewhere nearby so he wouldn’t see where she actually lived.

‘Okay, then, if you insist.’

‘My car is downstairs, let’s go.’ He picked up his jacket on the way and led her back out of the suite, to the elevator and down to the lobby. In the lobby though, Flora froze. Her event manager boss was also in the lobby and had seen her.

Vittorio saw her reaction and said sharply, ‘Who is that?’

Flora said miserably, ‘My now ex-boss.’

Vittorio said, ‘Wait here.’ And he walked over to the man, who Flora could see was going pale in the face. There were a few words exchanged, mostly on Vittorio’s side, and the man was now going red and nodding frantically.

Vittorio came back and took her arm in his hand, guiding her out of the hotel through the main entrance. She looked back at her ex-boss, who appeared to be in some kind of shock.

They were outside the hotel now, going down steps to where a low-slung silver bullet of a car was waiting. A young valet was holding open the passenger door and Flora got in gingerly, feeling awkward, having to contort herself a little. The door closed.

Vittorio got in on the other side, deftly starting the car and manoeuvring them out into the Rome traffic. Flora gave him a general address of where she was staying. She didn’t want to distract him further but curiosity overcame her and when there was a lull in traffic she asked, ‘What did you say to him?’

Vittorio was looking ahead, and Flora took in his strong profile. The man didn’t have a bad angle.

He said, ‘I told him that I didn’t appreciate the way he treated his staff and unless he demonstrated a less punitive work environment in future, I wouldn’t have him manage an event at my hotel again.’

‘Oh.’ Flora absorbed this. Not what she might have expected of the man who had been ruthless enough to ruin her uncle and stand her up on their wedding day. She also hadn’t expected his hospitality. Or how gentle he’d been tending to her finger. The plaster was wrapped around it snugly. It was no longer throbbing, or bleeding.

He drove with easy confidence. Fast, but not too fast. He didn’t need to show off. Her uncle had always terrified Flora with the way he drove.

Before she realised it they were in the quieter residential areas of Rome. Exactly where Flora had directed Vittorio. He said, ‘Where now?’

‘You can just let me out anywhere here.’

Vittorio was driving slowly and looking at the very sleepy/closed apartment blocks. ‘Tell me which one. I’m dropping you to the door, Flora.’

Flora.

The way he said her name gave her flutters. She could sense he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. She sighed and gave him the address. It was around the corner.

He pulled up outside and got out before she could move, opening her door. The entrance to where she stayed was a nondescript gate. Flora stood in front of it, feeling awkward. Vittorio loomed large under the street lights. It made her even more conscious of what was behind her.

She said, ‘Okay, look, thank you for the lift. I can take it from here.’

He was frowning though and looking over her shoulder. ‘What is this place? Some sort of...hostel?’

She seized on that. ‘Yes, it’s a hostel and guests aren’t welcome inside.’

At that moment the gate opened behind Flora. An older woman stepped out. ‘Flora? Are you okay?’

Flora nodded. ‘Fine, Maria, this...er...gentleman was just dropping me home.’

‘Okay. Because we need to talk, Flora. I’m afraid that it’s not going to be possible for you to stay if you want to keep Benji here too.’

‘Who’s Benji?’

Vittorio’s question couldn’t distract Flora from the stomach-dropping panic she felt. She’d known this was coming but still...

Maria’s voice was dry. ‘Benji is Flora’s baby.’

Vittorio stared at her. ‘You have a baby? How on earth...? You were pregnant when we were due to get married?’

Maria barked out a laugh. ‘Not a real baby.’

Flora put up her hands. ‘Stop. Both of you.’ She looked at Maria and turned her back on Vittorio. ‘When do I need to move out?’

Maria’s expression was soft, kind, but regretful. ‘Probably as soon as you can. The inspectors could turn up any day now and if they find Benji...’

‘I know. And the last thing I want to do is get any of you into trouble, when you’re doing such amazing work.’

‘Work...what work?’ Vittorio asked.

Before Flora could answer, Maria said, ‘Who is this man? Can you trust him?’

‘With this information? Yes, I believe so...’

‘Okay, well, I’ll leave you to talk and then we can figure out where you’re going to go.’

Flora felt weary. ‘Okay, thanks, Maria.’

The other woman went back inside, shutting the gate securely again. Flora looked at Vittorio. His arms were folded. He wasn’t moving until he got answers.

First question. ‘What is this place? It’s not just a hostel, is it?’

Flora shook her head. ‘It’s a women’s aid centre, so I’m sure you can appreciate the need for sensitivity and discretion.’

‘What on earth are you doing in a women’s aid centre...?’ His brows snapped together. ‘Did someone do something? Did something happen?’

‘No, nothing like that. I ended up here...through somewhere else and they let me stay for a miminal fee. I worked for them to help out.’

‘You ended up here...?’

Flora swallowed. ‘Look, it’s really none of your concern. You should go.’

One thing Vito was very sure of was that he was going nowhere until he’d got to the bottom of why Flora was living in a women’s aid centre.

He said, ‘Who, or what, is Benji?’

Flora looked as if she was going to argue but then she said, ‘Okay, fine, wait here. I’ll be back.’

Vittorio leaned back against his car. It was quiet here. Residential. Nondescript. The perfect place for a women’s aid centre. He could appreciate that. Flora was gone for about ten minutes and Vito was just appreciating the fact that no one ever kept him waiting when she reappeared with a bundle of what looked like scraggy fur in her arms.

‘This is Benji. I found him in a skip a few weeks ago. He’s blind in one eye.’

It was a dog. A puppy. Of indeterminate breed. Beagle-ish. With white and grey and a bit of brown. One brown eye and the other one was cloudy. The dog was curled trustingly against Flora’s chest. Vittorio put out a hand to stroke him and the dog’s hair went up and he growled, which sounded a little comical coming from something so small.

Flora said unapologetically, ‘Sorry, he doesn’t like men much.’

Vito pulled back his hand. ‘Fair enough.’

He thought of what the woman had said. ‘You have to move out because of the dog?’

Flora nodded. ‘No animals allowed. They just don’t have the facilities but it’s heartbreaking because a lot of the kids who come here have had to leave pets at home. There isn’t space for a garden. They really need to move to a better facility but they can’t afford it.’

‘What are you going to do?’ Even as he asked the question, a plan started to formulate in Vito’s head.

Flora bit her lip and Vito wanted to go over and tug it loose, press his own mouth against hers. Slip his hand under all that hair and tug it so that her head fell back, giving him deeper access to her—

‘I’m not sure. Maybe Maria will know someone.’

‘You’re coming home with me.’

Flora looked at him. The colour drained from her face. ‘That’s preposterous.’

‘If we’d got married, you’d be living with me now.’

‘Well, that never happened because you stood me up, remember? And even if we had married, we’d be getting divorced now. Six months have passed.’

‘You never know, you might have found me easy to live with and decided not to get divorced.’

Flora smiled sweetly. ‘The same goes for you—you might have found me too irresistible to let go.’

Neither said anything for a moment and then Vito saw some colour come back into Flora’s cheeks. He took advantage of what he knew. ‘What if the inspectors turn up tomorrow? You don’t want to be the cause of getting the centre shut down.’

Now she looked stricken. ‘Of course not.’

‘Then if you leave with me tonight, you’ll be ensuring their safety.’

She looked tortured. It was almost insulting. But then from the moment she’d stormed into his office in the wedding dress, no , from the moment they’d met, she’d never shown much of an inclination to spend time with him. He couldn’t remember a time when a woman had been so uninterested. From the age of puberty, Vito had known that he possessed a rare power. He’d never taken it for granted but he’d used it to his advantage when he’d had to.

She looked at him and Vito was struck again by her huge eyes. Her hair curled wildly, falling over her shoulders.

‘Okay, but just for one night, and then I’ll sort something out. Okay?’

Vito shrugged. ‘Sure.’

‘I’ll go in and get my things. I won’t be long. I have a carrier for Benji.’

‘Do you need help?’ Vito stood up straight.

She shook her head. ‘No, it’s better if you don’t come in. Strangers, especially male strangers, aren’t exactly...welcome.’

Vito put his hands in his pockets. He was rarely in a situation where he was ineffectual. It was eye-opening.

Approximately ten minutes later, Flora reappeared with a wheelie case in one hand and a pet carrier in the other. She handed Vito the wheelie case and said, ‘I’ll sit in the back with Benji so he doesn’t get scared.’

Vito stowed the case. ‘I’ve put in a call to my housekeeper to ensure there are provisions for a dog, and some food.’

‘Thank you.’

Driving back into the city, Vito glanced in the rear-view mirror and caught Flora’s eye. For the first time since seeing her again he noticed shadows under her eyes like delicate bruises. He felt a clutch of something unfamiliar in his gut. Unfamiliar but not unknown.

Concern.

For a Gavia of all people.

Conflicting emotions tangled together, and the suspicion that he was being monumentally naive not to suspect that this woman was up to something. He needed to find out what was going on. ‘So how did you end up in the women’s aid centre?’

He glanced at her in the rear-view mirror again and she was avoiding his eye, biting her lip. Then their eyes met again and he felt it like an electric shock. His hands gripped the wheel tighter.

With almost palpable reluctance she said, ‘I, er...was in a hostel in the city and someone mentioned the aid centre, that they were looking for a volunteer to help out and that there was a place to stay, if you did.’

Vito frowned. ‘Hostel...what kind of hostel?’

‘A homeless hostel.’

It took a second for that to sink in and when it did, Vito almost crashed the car. He swerved and a driver shouted expletives at him. He pulled into a layby and turned to face Flora.

He said one word. ‘Explain.’

‘Do we have to do this here? It might be better when you’re not driving.’

‘I’m not driving,’ he pointed out. And then, ‘Are you saying you were homeless?’

‘Only for a couple of days.’

Vito couldn’t sit there. He got out of the car, pulling his jacket off and throwing it aside. He felt constricted. He opened the passenger door and pulled the seat forward and said, ‘We need to talk.’

They were on a quiet leafy street on the way back into the city, the moon shining bright. She got out. The dog made a little pitiful sound and she said something reassuring. For a bizarre moment Vito almost...envied the dog. Ridiculous.

Flora stood and faced him.

Vito folded his arms. ‘Tell me everything that happened after you walked out of my office.’

Flora gulped. She might have imagined this scene in her weaker moments when she would have enjoyed seeing Vittorio Vitale grovelling a little, but now that he was in front of her looking positively...nuclear, it didn’t feel as good as she might have imagined. She almost felt as though she should be apologising.

‘When I left your office I had nothing. Nowhere to go. Not a cent of money.’

Vittorio shook his head. ‘How?’

‘I told you I hadn’t seen my uncle since that day. He told me in no uncertain terms that any use I’d had was no longer valid. I did try to go to the palazzo but it was already closed up.’

‘But what about your inheritance?’

Flora shook her head. ‘My uncle plundered it over the years. I stupidly signed a form granting him access until I was of age.’

‘In all the investigations we did, no one noticed that it was gone.’

‘Well, it was.’

Vittorio sounded grim. ‘He must have doctored the accounts. I had no idea you were destitute. I assumed you had that money, or that you’d just leave with your uncle.’

Flora repressed a shiver. ‘No way.’

Vittorio cursed softly. ‘You’re cold. Let’s go.’

She wasn’t cold but he was already ushering her back into the car and closing the door and within seconds they were driving again, until they entered the historic centre of Rome. Not far from Vittorio’s offices and where her uncle’s palazzo had been.

Vittorio came to a stop outside a discreet building. A doorman jumped out and took Vittorio’s keys. Another attendant took Flora’s battered case and Vittorio said, ‘Does the dog need to be taken around the block? Damiano can do it.’

Flora took Benji out of the carrier and attached his lead, handing it to the young man. She said, ‘Thank you.’

The little dog trotted off happily. Vittorio said, ‘He obviously doesn’t dislike all men.’

Now Flora felt irrationally guilty. ‘Um...no...mainly just the tall ones.’ Who looked intimidating. She kept that to herself.

Inside, the apartment building was sleek and modern, belying the older exterior, which she figured must be protected as a lot of structures were in Rome. Vittorio obviously favoured a less traditional aesthetic, and, having grown up in the stuffy Gavia palazzo, Flora found she appreciated the clean lines.

They ascended in the elevator, Flora very conscious of still being in her waitress uniform. The doors opened directly into the apartment, a reception hall with marbled floors and a massive round table upon which sat a vase full of colourful blooms.

The apartment seemed to take up the entire top floor with massive rooms, tall ceilings and an outdoor terrace. A housekeeper met them, an older woman, Sofia. She showed Flora a dog bed and bowls for food and water and assured her they’d have more things tomorrow.

Flora was about to protest that they probably wouldn’t still be here but Vittorio was saying, ‘Come into the living room. It’s more comfortable.’

The room was filled with couches and chairs. Coffee tables stacked with books. Modern art on the walls. Muted colours. It was soothing. Flora had an urge to curl up on a couch and sleep for a week. She tried to hold back a yawn.

Vittorio was looking at her. He said, ‘You should go to bed. You’re exhausted.’

She didn’t protest. As much because she was exhausted but also because she needed to try and absorb everything that had happened this evening since she’d heard someone say his name at that function, causing a chain of events leading to here.

Vittorio instructed Sofia to show Flora to her room and she dutifully followed the older woman down a series of corridors, to a door. Inside was a massive bedroom suite with dressing room and en suite. Even a living room with TV.

Sofia showed her where her case had been stowed and where there was a robe and toiletries. The woman’s kindness made Flora feel emotional. After growing up in the sterile environment of her uncle and aunt’s guardianship, she’d experienced more compassion and kindness in the last six months than ever before in her life. And from people who had the least amount of resources.

And yet... Vittorio had shown her kindness this evening. Disconcerting. The last person she would have expected to help her. She would have assumed if he’d seen her waitressing like that he’d either laugh or completely ignore her. Step over her as she’d picked up the broken glass. But he hadn’t done anything of the sort. He’d stood up for her.

And now he was taking her in.

Flora’s head was starting to throb. When Sofia had left, she explored the suite, and the lure of the luxurious marble bathroom was too much. She stripped off and stepped into a shower the size of a room and almost groaned with pleasure as steaming hot water sluiced down over her body.

She hadn’t experienced this level of a shower in months, or actually ever, because the plumbing in the Gavia palazzo had been about the same age as the palazzo. So this was...heaven. She even succumbed to the lure to wash her hair, an epic feat at the best of times.

When her aunt had first seen her hair in all its natural glory when she’d been a child, she’d been so horrified that she’d made sure that it was always straight, ensuring Flora was subjected to rigorous hair-drying and straightening by a member of staff at least once a week.

When Flora emerged from the bathroom, swathed in a robe and with a towel wrapped around her head, she lay on the bed, promising herself she’d just have a quick rest before she finished drying off. But then her eyes closed and the throbbing in her head finally stopped and everything went blissfully dark and quiet.

Vito was pacing back and forth on his terrace. The dog had been returned to the apartment and was now sniffing on the terrace, stopping to wee on a plant every now and then. It had started howling when it had realised Flora was nowhere to be seen and so Vito had risked a bite, scooping the animal up into his arms, to try and keep him quiet. The dog had looked at him suspiciously for a long moment, nose twitching, and had then promptly curled into a ball in his arms. Until he’d squirmed to be put down again.

Vito’s head was reeling.

Was Flora telling the truth?

His gut told him the answer. Why on earth would she have gone to such elaborate lengths on the off chance she’d run into him again to play on his sympathies?

He hadn’t even been due to attend that function earlier. It had been a last-minute decision, purely because he’d wanted to check on how the hotel was doing.

Everything he’d learned this evening made a kind of sick sense based on how Flora had behaved in his office that day.

The day you stood her up in public.

His conscience pricked.

She’d been shocked. Bewildered. And then, stoic when leaving. Not hinting for a second that she was walking out into...nothing.

So, was she really a victim of her uncle too? If so, then Vito had done her a serious injustice.

He left the puppy momentarily to go to Flora’s room. The door was ajar and he pushed it open. For a second he couldn’t see her but then he made out a shape on the bed and went in further.

She was on top of the covers, in a robe. A towel half on, half off her head. Dark brown and golden curly strands escaping. Her chest was softly rising and falling. One bare leg was exposed. Pale. Long and shapely.

Vito’s pulse tripped. He felt like a voyeur. A little flash of something white and grey and brown streaked past his feet.

The dog.

It had obviously followed her smell and was now trying to jump up onto the bed. It was too high.

The dog looked at Vito with huge pleading eyes. Vito cursed and scooped it up and put it on the bed, where it went and curled straight into Flora’s side, into a little ball of fluff.

Vito walked back out of the room before she could wake and witness him staring at her as if he’d never seen a woman before.

Flora Gavia was already exposing him in ways he’d never anticipated and, as much as he trusted that this wasn’t some elaborate ruse, he definitely wasn’t letting her out of his sight until he knew for sure.