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‘Find yourself a coat that fits. I assume you have one. And hurry up.’ He wondered whether he’d been foolish to allow her to come here, but then he reminded himself that they needed her passport.
‘I don’t understand the hurry. It’s going to take me more than five minutes to find somewhere new to live. This is premium property, Silvio—not easy to come by.’ Pulling open a cupboard, she removed a mug and waved it at him. ‘Water? I can’t offer you coffee—they turned the gas and electric off last week.’
‘You’ve just lost thirty seconds of packing time,’ Silvio ground out, prowling to the window and staring into the badly lit concrete walkway that led to the flats. The area made him shiver.
How many times had she risked her life crossing that litter-strewn concrete desert late at night?
‘I take it that’s a
no.’ With a careless shrug, she put the mug down on a small table and Silvio glanced back at her, frowning as he saw the red bruising on her knuckles.
‘I’d forgotten about your hand.’
‘My hand is fine. How’s your face?’
‘My face is fine.’ Struggling with emotions he didn’t know he was capable of feeling, Silvio crossed to the small fridge and yanked it open, glaring with disbelief at the empty shelves. ‘What do you eat?’
‘I usually eat out,’ Jessie said blithely, her slender frame telling a different story. ‘I can’t get through the week without dining in at least one Michelin-starred restaurant.’
Ignoring her sarcasm, Silvio reminded himself that his priority was getting her out of this place, not sorting out deficiencies in her diet. ‘Where’s the freezer compartment?’
‘No freezer compartment. You’ll just have to take your gin and tonic without the ice. Sorry for any inconvenience.’
If the situation hadn’t been so urgent he would have admired her courage.
Or maybe it was just that she didn’t know how much danger she was in.
And then she switched on another light and he saw the dark shadows under her eyes.
She knew.
The fact that she was frightened dug deep into his gut. Her life choices were coming back to haunt her and regret sliced through him because if he’d been here, everything would have been different.
He’d thought that leaving was the best thing he could do for her. Now he saw it had been the worst.
‘That’s another minute wasted,’ he drawled softly. ‘Never mind—the ice will have to wait until we’re at my place.’ The bruising on her hand would be worse but he’d have to find some other way of dealing with it. It was better than this nervous tension.
‘I’m not going with you, Silvio.’ She turned on the tap, filled the mug full of water and drank thirstily. But the hand holding the mug was shaking. ‘Get out of my life.’
‘I did that once before. It didn’t work out so well, did it?’
‘It worked perfectly for me.’
‘I’m back in your life, Jessie, whether you like it or not.’
‘You can’t afford me, Silvio. You might be rich but I’m out of your league.’ Her allusion to her dubious lifestyle stoked his anger. He wanted to push her up against the wall and demand to know why she’d allowed this to happen. He wanted to know why it had all gone so wrong. But he knew the answer to that one.
He was responsible. Because of him, she’d given up caring. Because he’d allowed her to send him away, he hadn’t been able to protect her.
Guilt crashed down on him and he heaved it away, knowing it to be a poor friend—a stifling, useless weight that achieved nothing. Keep moving forward—wasn’t that how he’d lived his life?
‘Another thirty seconds gone. I hope you travel light.’ Silvio prowled back to the window and lifted the blinds just enough to give him visual access.
The first thing he noticed was that a small crowd had gathered around his car. The second was that a battered black van with no lights had pulled up at the far end of the street.
He swore in Italian. ‘You’re out of time, Cinderella. Get your passport.’
‘I’ve told you—I’m not going with you.’
