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For a second he paused, then he shook his head and disappeared down the stairs.
She wanted to slide right down the wall onto the floor. But she couldn’t. She had to see this through. She had to fight for what she wanted and who she believed in. Her heart was crumpling in her chest. The guy she’d lain next to only the day before. The guy who could make her skin tingle just by looking at her. The man she’d actually dared to picture a future with. The man she loved with her whole heart and she hadn’t even had the chance to tell him.
It couldn’t end like this. It just couldn’t.
She pushed herself back from the wall and started down the corridor. There was a noise outside and every part of her body clenched.
No. Her feet moved faster, down the stairs and across the hallway to the main door, which was still lying wide open.
She reached the door just in time to see the taxi pull out of the driveway onto the road back to the village. He’d jumped in the taxi she’d just left. She started to run, shouting at the taxi to stop. But either the driver didn’t see her, or Javier told him to ignore her.
One glance at her watch told her everything she needed to know. The next ferry left in ten minutes. The taxi would make it there just in time.
She—would not.
Her legs crumpled beneath her and she started to sob.
The job she used to love had just snatched away the life she was about to lead.
And she had no idea how to put it right.
CHAPTER NINE
NOTHING ABOUT THIS felt right. Everything about this felt wrong.
From the second he’d hit the mainland on his way to Naples airport his phone had pinged non-stop. His friends, relatives, newspaper reporters, showbiz contacts, acting contemporaries and...his agent.
He only replied to one message from Aldo’s sister. His reply was simple.
On my way.
He had the luxury of being rushed through security and boarding the private jet he’d hired in under an hour.
But from the second the plane took off he had only one thing on his mind.
Portia.
When he’d seen the newspaper he’d been shocked. The pictures were intrusive. But they also made him feel like a fool. Over the last few years he’d got used to people snapping photos wherever he went. It seemed that every person in the world these days had a phone in their hand.
But L’Isola dei Fiori had felt different. He’d been more relaxed, let his guard down, and in doing so he’d inadvertently exposed Portia to something she might not have wanted to make front-page news with.
Or so he’d thought.
When one of the shopkeepers had gestured him in to look at his computer and watch the video clip of Portia’s producer he’d felt physically sick. But more than that he’d felt betrayed.
He’d always been wary of reporters but he’d never contemplated the fact their relationship was contrived or false. It had never entered his head—the connection had just seemed so real. He felt like such a fool. She’d hardly mentioned work at all—and when she had she’d been a little evasive. Now he knew why. He’d trusted her with a secret that had kept him awake at night for the last few months and she’d revealed it to the world.
He’d known not to trust reporters. He’d known to keep them always at arm’s length. To control how he appeared, and what he revealed.
But around Portia? His walls had been chipped away, until they’d finally tumbled down.
He’d trusted her. Trust wasn’t something that came easily to Javier. And she’d betrayed him—just when he’d thought about taking their relationship to the next level.
He’d finally come to terms with how to move forward. And it had felt good. It had felt as if he could actually do something that might make a difference.
And it was freeing. Because he’d been able to recognise how he actually felt about Portia.
He loved her. Her English accent. Her dark brown eyes. The way she said his name. The way her clothes hugged her curves, and the way her smile could reach from ear to ear.
He was just glad he hadn’t been fool enough to tell her.
That would have been an even bigger disaster than the one he faced now.
He absolutely didn’t care what the newspapers and social media said about him.
What he cared about was the impact on Aldo’s family. That was his priority. They were the people he had to sit down with, look in the eye and tell the truth to.
This was never the way he’d wanted this to happen.
He was trying to ignore the fact his heart felt as if it had been speared clean from his chest. He was trying to ignore the fact that he still couldn’t really believe what had gone around about him.
His phone beeped. His agent and publicist were having a meltdown.
It seemed now that Portia’s temporary replacement on Entertainment Buzz TV was being very uncomplimentary about her. Some of his fellow celebs were commenting on what a good match Javier and Portia were, and how they looked so happy together.
He was getting interview requests by the second.
His phone beeped again. This time it was the head of the film company for the action movie he was due to start promoting. The message was short and to the point.
Good work.
The irony made him shake his head. David McCurrie always said that all publicity was good publicity. Javier hitting the headlines a few weeks before the film premiere would be right up his street.
His heart weighed heavily in his chest. The betrayal was the hardest sting. He’d let Portia get under his guard. He’d believed what she’d said.
He closed his eyes for a second and leaned back against the leather seat. Yesterday he’d been planning out his whole life in his head. A whole life that included Portia.
Today, he just felt empty. Empty, sad and betrayed.
The more he thought about those photos, the more confused he felt. There had been no one on the beach. He had no idea how someone had got the photo on the balcony in Naples. How sensible had it really been to walk out on a balcony overlooking the Bay of Naples? Was there really no privacy anywhere in the world?
But the thing that annoyed him most of all was still the news about Aldo’s phone call. The only person he’d ever told about that was Portia. She was the only person that knew Aldo had told him he really needed to talk. Guilt washed over him again.
And now that was front-page news.
Was he really such a poor judge of character? Every cell in his body told him Portia would never do something like that. But it was front-page news. Along with the fact that she’d been given a deadline to find a story.
It didn’t matter how he looked at it—in every version of this story, Javier Russo had been played.
CHAPTER TEN
GETTING A FLIGHT home from Italy was tougher than she’d thought. As soon as she’d hit the mainland her phone had pinged non-stop.
It was her sisters. It seemed it didn’t matter where they were in the world—they’d seen the headlines too.
Naples airport was busy. And Portia was now in the unfortunate position of being recognised. Thank goodness her Italian was awful. She had no idea what the few reporters that were there were saying to her, and the girl at the check-in desk gave her a gracious nod, upgraded her and swept her up to the private lounge.
Portia was embarrassed. ‘I’m not really famous,’ she muttered.
The girl turned towards her—her English impeccable. ‘No, but you’re being harassed by the press and I won’t leave you with those vultures.’
Those few words had been enough to let the tears that were brimming beneath the surface come flooding out. She’d been ushered into the lounge, then onto the plane. Eighteen hours later, after a touchdown in Munich, she fina
lly arrived in Los Angeles.
She hadn’t slept. Once she’d picked herself up from the driveway of Villa Rosa she’d contemplated opening a bottle of wine and losing herself in it.
Instead, a fire had burned inside her and she’d started to plot.
She’d emailed her boss. It had taken less than a minute to send her ‘I quit’ email. The press of a button had never felt so good.
LAX was notorious for paparazzi—but Portia had insider information. She knew a way to duck out avoiding most of the places the press would be waiting. At least her job had been good for something.
Her empty apartment had a stillness about it she wasn’t ready for. She dumped her bag at the door and crossed the floor of her lounge. Her footsteps echoed on the wooden floor. A sob caught in her throat. She looked around.
She’d always loved this place. Loved being in the heart of Hollywood and only a short walk from Griffith Park. But all of a sudden it felt like a million miles from everyone and everything she loved.
Most of her friends were connected with work.
Her family seemed like a lifetime away.
