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Despair flooded through her. She felt tears of self-pity prick her eyes as she tended her feet and took some aspirin for her headache. Splashing cold water on her face, she looked at herself sternly in the mirror. She had no reason to feel sorry for herself. She shut her eyes. If all she had to worry about was whether or not she was falling in love with Dante, then she wasn’t doing too badly.
She climbed into bed, feeling very alone. Melanie was in London with Paolo. Alicia had called her earlier and she’d heard about the first scan with Dr Hardy that morning which had shown that everything was OK and progressing normally. So when Alicia couldn’t stop the tears and they fell unchecked down her cheeks, she told herself it was because she was so happy for Melanie. And that it had nothing to do with the past and the role she’d played in it. Or for herself now.
Dante came into the room quietly. He’d tried to get away from the bar ages ago but had been constantly stopped on his way out. As soon as Alicia had left him alone, a steady stream of women had accosted him. It always amazed him, but didn’t surprise him, how blatant they were under the noses of their own husbands and partners. And somehow, knowing Alicia was there, they were even more pushy, as if bringing a woman was throwing down some kind of provocative gauntlet.
He came and stood close to the bed. Alicia was asleep on her back, her hair in disarray around her head. She looked innocently childlike in silk pyjamas, buttoned up almost to her neck. Something like anger flooded him. Why wasn’t she sleeping naked? Why wasn’t she waiting up—waiting for him? His eyes travelled down and he frowned. She’d thrown off the cover and her foot peeped out; he could see a ring of what looked like dried blood around the heel. Had that been from the shoes?
He straightened and his expression became stony as he recalled what someone had just told him. While he trusted that person about as much as he trusted Alicia, he had to admit that what he’d heard probably was the truth and he didn’t want to acknowledge the ridiculous disappointment he felt. Instead he let the anger rise. Alicia was going to prove a liability after all.
When Alicia woke the following morning her first feeling was of uneasiness. She opened her eyes, assessing her surroundings in a second. The bed was empty beside her. Relief flooded her; she’d survived the night.
‘No need to look so happy with yourself.’
She flinched and her head turned to find where Dante’s voice had come from. He sat on the balcony, a table set up for breakfast.
‘Come join me; it’s beautiful out here.’
Why didn’t she trust his easy invitation? But she couldn’t stay in bed e
ither and he was dressed so that made her feel a little more relaxed. She pulled a hotel robe around her pyjamas and he noted her action with a dry look as she came out.
‘I think I can control myself; you don’t have to cover yourself up like a yeti.’
She scowled at him and helped herself to some fruit and a croissant.
He sat back, watching her, and sipped at his coffee. She avoided his gaze and looked out over the amazing view—the clear blue sky, clean beach and blue water that rushed in in foaming waves. And, as he watched her he had to acknowledge again what a duplicitous nature her innocent looking face hid. But then what had he expected?
‘I had an interesting talk last night with an old colleague of yours.’ Dante’s tone was idle, bored even.
Immediately Alicia’s blood turned to ice in her veins and her hand stilled on the way to her mouth with a glass of juice. She dropped it back down with a clatter and looked at Dante reluctantly, her chin coming up unconsciously. Serena obviously hadn’t wasted any time.
‘And? Come on out with it, you’re obviously dying to tell me.’ Fury and disdain sparked in her eyes and Dante felt a little nonplussed; shouldn’t he be the one looking at her disdainfully?
‘Serena Gore-Black, Jeremy’s wife … I didn’t realize you knew him.’
Alicia was defensive. ‘I don’t. I only found out yesterday that Serena was married to him when I saw her here.’
Her head went into a spin, trying to figure what she might have said; she wouldn’t put it past Serena to have given him all the gory details. ‘We worked in the same hospital a couple of years ago. But please, do tell me what scintillating titbit of half information she passed on to you.’
Half information.
Dante frowned slightly, the overbearing woman had had the same zealous look in her eye as all the other women. Come to think of it, the only woman who didn’t look at him like that was Alicia. It made his voice harsh. ‘Well, you obviously already know—she told me about your adulterous affair with Dr Raul. What was the name?’
So she had done it. Pain sliced through Alicia, even though she tried to deny it, and guilt, clawing at her insides. That would never go. She spoke faintly. ‘Carro … Dr Raul Carro.’
‘Was he the reason you went to Africa?’
She looked at him for a long moment, something pained in her eyes, and then nodded slowly. She could well imagine that Dante assumed that he had gone too and that she had followed him there. And Carro had ended up there … so what was the point of trying to put him straight when he so obviously wanted to think the worst?
After all, he had been a big part of her reason for going. But it had been to get as far away as possible, disgusted and sickened by what had happened. By the fact that she’d fallen for someone so amoral.
Her obvious confirmation of the story made something weigh Dante’s chest down. He leaned forward. ‘So you don’t deny you had an affair with a married man, who had a wife and four children at home in Spain?’
Alicia got up jerkily, unable to bear it, and stood at the railing, her hands gripping it. After a second she turned around, a wild look in her eyes as she fixed them on Dante.
‘No. No, I can’t deny it. I had an affair with a married man. There, are you happy? You can just lump this on top of the gold-digger label. There. Does that please you? All the justification you might need to feel better about yourself. I’m a bad, wicked woman. A gold-digger and a husband-stealer.’
Dante stood too and came close, his features livid, her barb about justification cutting far too close to the bone. ‘Well, let’s just say that it doesn’t surprise me. But what the hell do I care anyway? You mean nothing to me, and as for your conniving sister—’
