Chapter 6

Estelio’s company in the car made the journey a whole lot easier for Charley because she could pretend to doze while he and Adelina talked. It vaguely occurred to her that the conversation was hushed and heated, but she assumed Adelina was keeping her promise to give him a hard time for the trick with the wine, so she didn’t listen.

And anyway, she did have a headache, one of those dull, throbbing aches that came when you didn’t like yourself and knew the feeling was not going to change any time soon. When the two cousins decided to have a last drink in the bar before they went to their rooms, Charley made her escape and spent the night with her head stuffed beneath her pillow, trying not to remember what she had done.

But she should have listened to what the other two had been saying, as she discovered early the next morning when hell arrived with the sound of urgent knocking on her door. If she’d listened, she might have been able to stop Adelina from making the biggest mistake of her life.

As it was, all she could do was stand and listen in growing horror while Carina Alonzo poured it all out between thick, shaking sobs.

‘She’s gone!’ Adelina’s mamma choked out hysterically the moment that Charley opened her door. "She just packed all her things in the middle of the night and left the hotel!" All this time, she never showed a single sign that they were planning this between them! How could she? How could he? What are people going to say? What about Damiano? Oh, I don’t think I can bear it. She has thrown away a wonderful future. How could she do this to us? How could your foolish brother just turn up here and steal her away?

Having assumed that Mrs. Alonzo had been referring to Estelio, "Charles?" Charley choked out her words in disbelief. "Are you sure you meant my brother, Mrs. Alonzo?" she asked unsteadily.

"Of course I mean Charles!" the older woman shook out. "He arrived here yesterday afternoon, apparently." He was hiding in Adelina’s bathroom when I went to see her yesterday! Can you imagine it? She wasn’t dressed, and the bed was rumpled! Dio mio, it does not take much to guess what has been going on! Did you know about what they were planning to do, Charlotte—did you?

The fierce accusation straightened Charley’s backbone. "No," she denied adamantly. "I’m as shocked about this as you are!"

"Well, I hope that is true," Mrs. Alonzo said coldly. "For I will never forgive you if you played along with this inexcusable thing!"

"I thought you meant she’d gone away with Estelio," Charley murmured dazedly.

‘Estelio? He’s her cousin! Are you trying to make this situation worse than it already is?

Thoroughly chastened by the appalled response, Charley could only mumble out an apology.

"Now someone is going to have to break the news to Damiano," Adelina’s mother sobbed. ' Adelina has left him a note, but Damiano went to his Lake Como villa last night to prepare for our arrival tomorrow, and my husband has left for the city to see to some business this morning—he doesn’t even know yet what his wicked daughter has done to ruin our lives!

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The Villa De Santis stood on top of a rocky outcrop, its pale lemon walls kissed by the softening light of the afternoon sun.

Charley’s stomach gave a nauseous flutter as she stepped from the water taxi onto the villa’s private jetty, its newly painted ribs standing out in the brilliant sunshine against the darkness of the older wood. Another boat was already moored there, a sleek, racy-looking thing that completely demoralized the water taxi as it nudged in beside it.

Adelina’s father had arranged for a car to bring her as far as Bellagio. They’d discussed if they should ring Dami to break the news to him, then decided he should be told face-to-face. At first, Alberto Alonzo was going to make the trip himself, but he looked so ill that Charley offered to come in his place.

His heart wasn’t good, and she felt responsible. How could she not feel responsible when it was her brother who’d caused all of this? But after her own utter stupidity of the night before, the last thing she wanted to do right now was come face to face with Dami De Santis.

The old quiver struck as she walked towards the iron gates that she assumed would lead to steps up to the villa. Behind her, she could hear the water taxi already moving away, its engines growling as it churned up the glinting blue water, leaving her feeling as if she had just been marooned in the worst place on earth.

A man appeared from out of the shadows on the other side of the gate, stopping her in her tracks with his piercing dark eyes that looked her up and down. She had to look a mess because she certainly felt one with her hair hanging loosely around her pale face. And she was still wearing the same green top and white capris she’d pulled on so hurriedly this morning when Adelina’s mamma had knocked on her door.

"May I help you, signorina?" the man questioned in coolly polite Italian.

Passing her nervous tongue across her lips, "I’ve come with a letter for Signor De Santis," Charley explained. "My name is Charlotte Jones."

He nodded his head and produced a cell phone, his dark eyes not leaving her for a second while he spoke quietly to whoever was listening on the other end. Then with another nod, he unlocked the gate and opened it. "You can go up, signorina," he sanctioned.

With a murmured thanks, Charley was about to step past him when a sudden thought made her stop. "I will need a taxi back to Bellagio," she told him. "I didn’t think to ask the other one to wait."

"I will see to it when you are ready to leave," he assured her.

Offering another husky "thank you," Charley continued on her way to discover a set of age-worn stone steps cut into the rock face. At the top of the steps she found soft green lawns, carefully tended gardens, and a path leading to a stone terrace beyond which stood the villa with its long windows thrown open to the softest of breezes coming off the lake.

She thought it was beautiful, but that was as far as her observations went. She was too uptight, too anxious—scared witless, if she was going to be honest.

Another man was waiting for her on the terrace. He offered her a small, stately bow and invited her to follow him. It was cool inside the villa; the decoration was a mix of warm colors, hung with beautiful tapestries and paintings in ornate gold frames. The man led the way to a pair of heavy wood doors, knocked, then opened one of them before stepping to one side in a silent invitation for her to pass through.

Needing to take a deep breath before she could make herself go any further, Charley walked past the servant into a beautiful room with high stucco ceilings and long, narrow windows that flooded the room with soft, golden light. The walls were pale, the furniture dark and solid like the richly polished floor beneath her feet. Shelves lined with books filled narrow alcoves, and a heavy stone fireplace dominated one wall. As she spun her gaze over sumptuously ancient dark red velvet chairs and elegant sofas, she finally settled on the huge, heavily carved desk set between two of the windows—and the man who was standing tall and still behind it.