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She grabbed her bag and jacket and headed to the front door. The sky was already black and the snow was swirling around. Her Mini was coated in a thick layer of it. She smiled. Most New Yorkers saw no need for a car. Transport in the city was good. But Phoebe’s interior design job meant she frequently needed to travel further afield.
She’d watched a movie years ago that featured three of these cars and had dreamed of one ever since. When she’d found a second-hand one—that came from the UK—a few months ago, she’d had to buy it.
The driveway was thick with ice and Phoebe practically skidded as she headed to the car. She jumped inside and started the engine. The car was always reliable and turned over first time. But as she moved the car into first gear—she’d finally got used to the stick shift—the wheels spun in the snow. She tried again, and again, but the car didn’t move.
Somewhere in the distance fireworks exploded in the dark sky. It seemed that the Hampton parties had started already. People weren’t waiting for the stroke of midnight for the fun to start. She could only imagine the chaos around Times Square right now with people crushing in, waiting to see the famous ball drop. Did she really want to head back there?
She sighed and leaned back in her seat as the thick flakes of snow continued to fall. She stared back at the house. Just as well she loved the place—looked as if she’d have to stay.
Phoebe scrambled back out of the car and into the house. Now the work crew had all left it was amazing how much her footsteps echoed through the house. She pulled out her phone and searched for the nearest pizza place—thank goodness it was still open. Two minutes later she’d ordered, warning their delivery driver about the driveway.
She glanced at her phone and sent a quick text to her mother. It would be so easy to sit down and spend all night on social media, but it wasn’t really what she wanted to do. None of the TVs in the house was currently working. The satellite company wasn’t scheduled to arrive until next week.
She smiled. Of course. The library. The perfect place to spend a snow-filled evening. It was stacked with multiple shelves of books, accessible by an old-style set of moving steps. In a way, it was the perfect place for her to see in the New Year.
She grabbed the bag she carried with her. Unlike some interior designers she always had a change of clothes so she could do as much physical work as possible. It only took ten minutes to head upstairs and shower and change into the gray sweatpants and long-sleeved pink top she had with her. Comfort first. The bed that she’d made up earlier looked good. Only thing was, the room was a little cold. The heating system was something she’d have to look at the next day. It might be a bit chilly, but staying here wouldn’t be such a hardship.
She headed back down the stairs and spent fifteen minutes trying to light the fire in the library. Eventually she conceded defeat and did an Internet search and watched a video that showed her how to do it. Five minutes later she finally had the flicker of flames, followed by the arrival of her pizza. The delivery guy gave her a wry smile. “Just as well we have a four-by-four. Your driveway doesn’t take any prisoners. And I’m heading home now.”
Phoebe nodded and smiled as she paid him and gave him a big tip. “Thanks so much for this. Happy New Year. Drive safely.”
Your driveway. The guy was assuming she actually owned the house. Maybe in some wild dream or fantasy she would actually own a house in the Hamptons. Phoebe couldn’t stop smiling as she closed the door.
The pizza was lukewarm. But it didn’t matter. She hadn’t realized she was quite so hungry. She carried it through to the library and looked around. Even though the fire was lit she still felt a little cold. She hesitated for only a few seconds before she ran back up the stairs and pulled the new bedclothes from the bed. There was no point in being cold.
Two slices of pizza later, she’d found a book that could make her hair curl even tighter and she settled down on the rug in front of the fire. This could be interesting.
* * *
Matteo let out another curse as his car skidded and he struggled to stop the back end fishtailing. Although the roads from the city had been glistening with snow, the gritters had been out and main highways were clear. The roads through the hamlets and villages of the Hamptons were a little different. He’d had the choice of any car in the garage and had chosen the one he’d thought most practical. The large four-by-four had initially made the journey easy, but the hardest part of the journey was now his own driveway. It currently resembled some kind of ice rink.
He frowned as he finally pulled up outside the house. He’d never intended to be this late, but a conference call had gone on much longer than expected. So by the time he’d started the journey to the Hamptons it was already dark. There was another car sitting in front of the house—one he didn’t recognize.
It was New Year’s Eve. Who on earth would still be here? Chances were it was nobody. Maybe one of the workers had decided to take a ride home with someone else—perhaps to join in some New Year’s celebrations.
Matteo had tactfully given apologies to three potential party invitations, and the last place on earth he wanted to be right now was in the heart of New York at Times Square. The streets had been crammed as he’d left the city and they’d be worse by now.
He stepped outside of the car and promptly landed on his butt. He got up quicker than he’d gone down, groaning and rubbing his backside, flicking his head from side to side. Of course no one had seen him—no one was here. But his reactions were just automatic. He pulled his phone from his pocket praying the screen wasn’t smashed.
The spider’s web across the glass told him otherwise.
He held it up to the alarm scanner. Nothing. Nothing happened. He tried again, then frowned as he turned the key in the lock. A couple of seconds and a few careful steps later he was inside the house.
As soon as he was in the entrance hall he knew something wasn’t right.
There was...something.
A noise. A smell.
He turned in that direction and started walking. At the end of the corridor there was a glow. None of the lights were on in this part of the house. He could easily flick the switches. But he was far too stubborn minded to slow down. He shook his head as he kept walking. For the first time since he’d been a teenager, every bad horror movie he’d ever watched suddenly made sense. He’d always shouted at the screen before—why haven’t you put on the lights? Why are you walking toward the trouble? But here he was, doing exactly the same.
That car still bothered him. But it could easily belong to one of the clean-up crew who didn’t want to drive a small car home in the snow and had traveled home with someone else. The door had been locked, but the alarm hadn’t been on.
Could this be an intruder? Someone who’d heard the house was being renovated and had decided there might be something worth stealing?
His hands clenched into fists. Matteo didn’t need any kind of weapon. He was more than a match for any intruder.
As he strode down the corridor he realized where the light was coming from. The library? Why on earth would any intruder go to the library? It was a place he’d never spent much time in; he hadn’t even remembered to direct Phoebe here when she was looking around the house.
There was something strange about the light. And the smell. Was something burning?
His heart rate quickened as he swung the door open—to the most peaceful scene.
Phoebe was lying curled up on the floor, covered in blankets in front of a flickering fire.
A fire. Of course. Although the house had multiple fireplaces, Matteo had never seen any of the fires lit in this house. They’d only stayed here for a few weeks one fateful summer. It hadn’t even occurred to him that the light might be coming from one of the fireplaces.
Phoebe’s curls were fanned out all around her, her head on a cushion that must have come from one of the high-b
ack chairs. On the floor in front of her was a pizza box, with only a few slices missing.
For a few moments he didn’t move. Just watched the rise and fall of her chest. Her skin glowed in the orange flickering flames. Her lips full and pink.
Something clenched inside him and he turned away. She was an employee. A business associate. Even if it was for only a few weeks. He had to push any other kind of thoughts away. He had too much else to deal with—too much else to worry about. He couldn’t afford any distractions.
“Matteo?”
He turned around. Phoebe was pushing herself up, moving her hair away from her tired eyes. “When did you get here?” She looked confused. “What time is it?”
Matteo straightened up. “It’s after ten. Phoebe, what are you doing here? It’s New Year’s Eve. Are you staying here?”
