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She thought of her mother, but she dismissed the idea of confiding in her. She was always too willing to blame the racing world for bringing her family down and tearing it apart. It would only give more weight to her argument against the whole lifestyle.
Resigned to the pain that Alessandro’s betrayal had brought, she pulled out her tablet and searched for London-bound flights, booking on one the next evening. At least that would give her time to go back to the test track in the morning. She had one last thing to do before she went.
Then it would be goodbye and this time she meant it to be for ever.
* * *
Alessandro had watched her walk away, desperate to call her name, to make her turn and look at him. But it wouldn’t do any good. They should never have become lovers and they could never be together. The hours they’d shared at his villa must be forgotten and he hoped they hadn’t been tailed by any more photographers. It was bad enough her father might see the one of them kissing, but what if he saw her, cares cast aside, enjoying time with him? Not that they’d be shots of her at his pool— security was good at the villa—but they’d spent a lot of time out and about, doing tourist things.
She had paused in the doorway and turned to look at him, her green eyes large and full of sadness, and as they met his he’d felt the disappointment crash over him like a stormy sea.
‘Goodnight, Alessandro.’ Her voice had lost the anger and hard edge of earlier but he remained where he was, rooted to the marble floor, unable to decide what course of action was best.
‘Buonanotte, Charlotte.’ He couldn’t stand and watch her any more, not if he wanted to keep his distance, so he turned and marched off to his study, a place he could lose himself in work. Behind him, he heard the bedroom door click softly shut but it sounded loud and piercing in his head, like a gunshot.
He didn’t sit at his desk, didn’t open his laptop and work. He couldn’t. His mind was going over every single detail of the last few days. From the moment he’d seen her working in her garden to the hot passionate nights they’d shared.
What was the matter with him? He couldn’t want her, couldn’t have her, but he did. He wanted to wake up with her each and every day. He paced the room, stopping to look out across the rooftops of Milan as the sun slipped lower in the sky, casting its orange glow onto the old buildings.
When he’d promised Seb he’d look after her as if she was his own sister he had never imagined it would be so difficult. What would he do if the situation was reversed, if it was his sister involved with a man who would break her heart?
He clenched his hands into tight fists, the thought of anyone hurting or taking advantage of his sister filling him with rage like an aggressive and territorial lion. Yet that was what he’d done. He’d gone back on his promise to Seb, just by kissing Charlie and by taking her away to explore the passion that had sparked to life the instant they’d met—he hadn’t looked after her, as he’d promised her father he would.
The only thing he had been able to do right was keep the truth from her and even the success of that seemed in doubt as she probed into every drawing and detail Seb had made, and asked the manufacturing team pointed questions about whether certain design developments had been made before or after the accident.
He closed his eyes and memories of the day Seb had told him the truth descended. He could still hear Seb, his voice weak as he lay in the hospital bed, begging him to keep the drink and drug problem from his sister.
Please, Sandro, don’t tell her. It will break her heart. Whatever else you do, don’t tell her.
Seb’s words came back to him, as clear as if he was at his side again. Alessandro rubbed his hands together, the light pressure of Seb’s grasp once again on his hands, and in his mind he could see Seb’s face, so like Charlie’s, begging him to keep his secret.
Had he known then he wasn’t going to make it?
With a furious curse, Alessandro strode back out of his office. He couldn’t let Charlie sit there alone, worrying about everything. Outside her door, he paused. Was he doing the right thing? He was normally so decisive, so sure of what needed to be done, but where this woman was concerned he was the opposite.
He knocked on the door and almost instantly it was opened. ‘You can’t stay in there all night.’ He attempted light-hearted chatter, something she’d proved to be very good at over the weekend. The frosty glare she sent him told him that he hadn’t yet mastered that art.
‘We could go out for dinner.’ He didn’t like her silence, as cold as her eyes, and he had the feeling he was in ever-deepening quicksand.
