Wonder what she was up to? Had she decided, after the fling she assured him was a one-off because she wasn’t that type of girl, to spread her wings and see what else was out there? Would she be spending her Friday evening in a nightclub somewhere while he remained in his ivory tower, brooding?
She was so damned spectacular that she wouldn’t be short of admirers if she decided that there was more to life than allotments.
More importantly, Niccolo thought grimly, could he live with himself if he allowed her to walk away without telling her how he felt?
The very notion of sharing his innermost feelings with someone else was so alien to his mental make-up that he almost shook his head in an attempt to clear it.
The very notion, furthermore, of chasing a woman who had walked away from him was even more alien to his mental make-up.
Those were both very valid reasons for putting the whole sorry episode behind him and moving on, and yet, even as he thought that, he found he was moving towards the leather sofa on which he had earlier dumped his lightweight jacket.
He had the address of the house she had sold, and with that information he would be able to get in touch with the estate agent who had sold it. Whatever security checks they had, he was confident he would be able to bypass them to find out where she had moved. She would be renting somewhere. He had ensured she’d been paid enough to make it possible for her to rent a pretty decent place.
He could have got his PA to do the leg work, but doing it himself felt right, felt like just part of the road he had to travel to reach her, to unburden himself. To tell her what he felt. To open up for the first time in his life, even though opening up would leave him vulnerable.
Thankfully, finding out where she was turned out to be a piece of cake because she was in the very house waiting to be handed over to new owners.
Having discovered this, he headed down to the underground car park and straight to his Porsche, zapping it open on the move and easing out of the slot without giving himself too much time to think about what he was doing. This was a journey with no turning back.
So it was highly likely that she would slam the door in his face.
They’d had some pretty amazing sex, and on reflection he swore there were times when he had sensedsomethingin her, something that had alerted him to an attraction that was a lot more than skin deep.
But had he been wrong?
If she’d been interested, wouldn’t she have jumped at the chance to continue their relationship once they’d returned to London?
Should he phone to warn her that he would be coming to see her? Would the element of surprise work in his favour?
For the first time in his life, Niccolo really had no idea where he stood and was facing a situation the outcome of which was a complete mystery.
It was unnerving to say the least.
But the alternative was even more unnerving. He had been accused of many things in his life before but never of a lack of courage...
Sophie had no idea why she was still here, in the now almost completely empty family home.
Everything that she wanted to keep had been put into storage and the rest had been given to charity or sold to help pay bills.
Thanks to her brief period of employment and the money she had managed to retrieve from the sale of the house once most of the outstanding debts had been cleared, she was in the black, no longer swimming against the current.
Yet here she was, locked into some kind of apathy, which meant that she still hadn’t moved, sleeping in a sleeping bag, caretaking a house that would soon no longer be hers.
It felt peaceful. It felt as though this last remnant of her past was now fortifying her for taking the next step forward and moving on...
Without Niccolo.
She’d left with Annalise a fortnight ago, while he had remained on the yacht to finalise some business in peace and quiet, because peace and quiet would become relics of another age the second he stepped foot into his offices in London.
He’d been politely smiling when he’d told her that, but she wasn’t born yesterday. She’d turned down his offer to prolong their little roll in the hay and he’d shrugged it off, but had then been eager to see the back of her. He might have paid lip service in telling her that there was no need for her to rush away because his aunt was back, but actions spoke louder than words and he was clearly keen for her to leave.
He’d said that sleeping together would change nothing and she’d agreed. She would have fun—and God knew, she was due a little—and he would have fun. Two adults having fun, no strings attached, and when the fun was over, they would both revert to the working relationship that had brought them together on his yacht in the first place.
How simple it had sounded at the time.
She wasn’t expecting anyone to ring her doorbell. Not at a little after seven in the evening. Her communications had increasingly revolved around her bank manager and his attempts to help with sorting out all the various debts that had been uncovered following the death of her parents.
No one actually came knocking on her door any more and she padded to open it with mild curiosity, assuming it was a cold caller and already mentally rehearsing how she would tell whoever it was that she wasn’t interested in whatever they happened to be trying to flog.