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‘Well, you look the part,’ he said
, eyeing her navy pencil skirt and white shirt up and down.
She laughed nervously.
He blew a smoke ring. ‘Jess likes bling,’ he said quietly. ‘The yachts, the private jets, all that conspicuous consumption, but I’ve never been able to get her to sit through To Catch a Thief and she probably thinks Fellini is a type of shoe.’
He gave her a sideways glance.
‘You think I’m an arsehole, don’t you?’
‘I’m not here to judge you,’ said Anna. ‘I’m here to help you.’
He shrugged.
‘I realise that most people think I should be doing cartwheels to be living with one of the most beautiful, successful women in America, but . . . well, I don’t. I feel trapped. Being an actor is the only thing we have in common. Look, I’m not making excuses for having sex with that girl, but . . .’ He gave Anna a look that indicated he wanted to say more. ‘Sorry,’ he laughed. ‘I suppose I should be telling this to my shrink, not my lawyer.’
‘Don’t worry, I get it a lot,’ said Anna. ‘I’ve been thinking about having a couch put in my office.’
It was true: one thing celebrities, captains of industry and sports stars liked to do was offload their problems, to ‘over-share’, as they said on the American talk shows. Anna could sympathise – they were usually in trouble, after all – but she suspected it was usually less to do with introspection and more to do with a desire to talk about themselves. She looked at Sam, wondering if what he was saying was true. Maybe he was in a loveless relationship with Jessica. Or maybe it was something he had convinced himself into believing after he had slept with Katie, a way to justify an action he knew was wrong. One thing her line of work had taught her was that men didn’t have to be unhappy with their partners to cheat on them.
Uncomfortably, her thoughts strayed to the night she had found her own boyfriend, the man she had trusted, in bed with her sister. She remembered Andrew’s protestations that it wasn’t how it looked, how it meant nothing, how it would never happen again. But that had been a lie too, hadn’t it?
When Andrew had finally admitted that he was in love with Sophie, she had understood it. She understood that it was easy to fall in love with Sophie. Whether it was her beauty, her lusciousness, her slightly helpless charm, everyone who ever met her was pulled into her whirlpool.
What Anna could not understand, what had been so painful and made her feel completely stupid, was when Andrew had admitted that he was no longer in love with her, that the spark had gone from their relationship and she no longer made him happy.
Anna didn’t know Jessica Carr and certainly had no idea how she felt about Sam. But she knew one thing: no one deserved to be in a one-sided relationship.
‘If you really want to talk about it, can I give you some advice?’ she said finally.
‘What?’
She hesitated before she spoke.
‘Think about why it happened in the first place. If you’re miserable with Jessica, then maybe you should end it, not sleep with someone and then get an injunction to protect your relationship.’
‘What? So now you don’t want to get the gagging order?’
‘I never said that,’ she said, feeling a tremor of hostility. ‘I just meant that if you’re unhappy, you should change things to make yourself happy.’
Sam’s cheeks flamed.
‘It’s not that easy, though, is it?’
Anna shrugged.
‘It doesn’t have to be this difficult.’
He turned and got back into the car without speaking. Anna silently cursed herself, knowing she had overstepped the mark. She knew she shouldn’t let her personal experiences colour her professional actions.
They drove on through the island, each looking out of their own side of the car, the upbeat mood all but evaporated. Finally they entered Capri Town, where Giovanni stopped beside the bustling Piazzetta.
‘Studio Rosso is down there,’ he said, pointing towards a warren of back streets. ‘Keeping going straight ahead and you’ll see it. Tell Consuela I said ciao.’
‘Thanks, Giovanni,’ said Anna, climbing out. Just as she was about to close the door, Sam leaned forward.
‘Hey, are you hungry?’
