The world was not making sense to Elena. Here she was, still shaken, being comforted by this mystery woman who was obviously well-known to Guy. Her day was going from one confusing turn to another and she could feel her anxiety levels begin to rise again.
The woman came across and sat beside her. She held out a slim hand and smiled.
“As I said, I’m sorry you have been frightened. I am Chiara. Has Guy mentioned me?”
“No,” Elena replied. “But I don't understand what’s going on. Why am I here?”
“Since things have gone a little wrong today, I must explain,” Chiara said. “I wanted to meet you. I was intrigued because I have Guy's best interests at heart. You’re not what I expected. When I knew that he had invited you onto the boat, I thought that maybe you might be some silly celebrity or gold-digger, but now I think that’s not the case.”
Elena could feel her anger beginning to rise – who was this woman to question whether she had a right to be taking a holiday with Guy and to judge her motives? And how dare she assume that she could summon Elena to meet her like this?
“I suppose what you really mean,” Elena replied, “is that I’m not slim or pretty or in any way attractive enough for Guy. But I'm not interested in taking his money or luring him into an unsuitable arrangement, if that's what you think. I care about him, but I don't see what business it is of yours. Who are you anyway?”
Elena sank back into the sofa confused and exhausted.
“I am Guy's mistress.”
Chapter Sixteen
It took a few moments for the words to make sense in Elena's muddled mind. She gazed at this sophisticated, assured, beautiful woman, as the truth finally began to sink in.
“That probably sounds a bit of an out-dated description,” Chiara continued, “but it’s the only word I can find at the moment. Tell me, has Guy told you about his divorce and the reason for it?”
Elena nodded. “Yes, but I don't want to discuss that. I don't see how you have the right to question me. I just want to go now. Can you arrange for me to be taken back to the hotel.”
“I will do that, but please let me explain a little first. I want you to understand about the past ...”
Chiara went over to a side table and poured two glasses of wine. She held one out to Elena, then sat down opposite her.
In spite of herself Elena began to be intrigued. Did this woman really know about what had happened in Guy's past? And how exactly did she fit into the story?
“I met Guy about a year after his divorce had been finalised. He was at an opening of a new art gallery with his business partner, Graham, who wanted to find some original paintings for their offices. I had a small stand showing my silver jewellery. At the time I was trying to scrape a living between odd jobs and designing and making jewellery. I’m half Italian and half English but was brought up in England. My husband had been killed in a car accident three years before, and I was trying to support my young son and my elderly mother who was pining for Italy.”
Chiara paused and sipped her wine. There was a look of deep sadness on her face at the mention of her dead husband, and Elena sat quietly, knowing that she must now wait for the rest of the story.
“Guy was bored with the art on show and came to look at my stand. He took an interest and asked lots of questions about how I designed and made the items. He asked me to go for a drink after the gallery closed and we found ourselves talking. We were both pretty damaged people. I was trying to cope with money and family difficulties, and Guy was still broken up after the divorce. To cut that part of the story short, he invested in my little business and found a workshop for me in London. He later also bought this villa in Italy where my mother could live and help bring up Gino, my son. “
I live here most of the time now and design the jewellery, which is then made in the London workshop. Thanks to Guy's investment, the business has done well and is almost self-supporting.”
Chiara paused, and Elena wondered if she was going to explain any further. She should really insist that she wanted to go, but at the same time, there was an almost fatal fascination in listening to this story about Guy's past.
“We became friends. In a way, I suppose we supported each other. Guy would often ask me to accompany him to functions where he needed a partner. People were always trying to pair him off, but he wasn't interested. He still felt too raw from the divorce. I suppose I was a sort of barrier for him from the attentions of women. An unattached billionaire is like a honey pot for some.”
Elena was listening intently now. It all made sense; she could imagine that Guy had tried to shut himself off from relationships after Olivia. Despite herself she knew that she wanted to hear the rest of Chiara's account.
“As time went on we became close. We have an understanding. Guy will ring me, sometimes at short notice, and ask me to join him when he needs a partner. I’ve been all over the world and he provides me with a generous allowance for clothes and so on. I need to look good.”
“And did you sleep together?” the words had slipped out before Elena could contain herself, but what had she got to lose now, she asked herself. She needed to know the whole truth.
“We didn’t at first,” Chiara replied. “But sometimes, after an evening out, a good meal and lots of champagne, we would find that we had been booked into the same suite at a hotel. Guy is a normal man, with normal needs. He never wanted casual sex or to sleep around, so it suited us both occasionally to sleep together.”
“So you think that gives you the right to vet anyone he meets?”
For the first time, Chiara looked a little uncomfortable. Until that moment, she’d seemed so self-assured. She took a slow sip of wine, giving herself time before she answered.
“We agreed early on that either of us could have any casual relationship we wanted, but that if we found someone we might want to get serious about, then we would simply go back to just a business arrangement, and remain friends. One thing I’m sure of, Elena, is that I don't want to see Guy hurt again after he’s been so good to me.”
“How long have you been keeping track of me?” Elena asked. “How did you know we were in Sorrento?" She was still struggling to understand just what was happening to her.
“Christos is married to one of my cousins,” Chiara explained. “Guy gave him the job on the boat, so he let me know. Guy has never taken time off work like this since I’ve known him, and you’re the first girl he’s taken away alone on the boat. It’s so unusual. Christos thinks he’s in love with you. So I wanted to meet you. I admit I was curious. I can only repeat that I owe Guy a lot and just want to protect him.”
Elena stood, taking her handbag from the coffee table. She was afraid that she might break down and cry, but didn't want to expose her feelings in front of Chiara.
“I think he’s quite capable of looking after himself,” she said, as coldly as she could. “I want to go now and I'd like my phone back please. And don't worry, if anyone's going to be hurt in all this it’s probably me.”
§
The drive back was uneasily quiet. The two young men sat in the front of the car, occasionally mumbling to each other, both careful not to look at Elena, who sat in the back, clutching her bag tightly to her chest. And as soon as they stopped at the front of the hotel she jumped out without a backward glance. She just wanted to reach the security of her room and try to sort out her damaged, shattered emotions.
Elena sat on the bed and finally let the tears come, spilling down her cheeks as she sobbed into her hands. There was an actual ache in her chest and she wondered if it was really possible for her fragile heart to suffer any more. The whole holiday was spoiled now – the swimming in sandy coves, lying on deck looking at the stars, the drive to Amalfi – it had been just magical, being with Guy, getting to know him and gradually falling in love with him. But all that time she’d been spied on and their activities reported back to Guy's mistress. The situation was just unbelievable. She’d trusted Guy and he ha
d hidden the truth from her.
Elena pulled open the drawers in the dresser and flung open the doors to the wardrobe. There they were, all the designer clothes she’d brought from the boat. For a moment she trailed her fingers through the expensive materials – she would leave them all here at the hotel she decided.
Next she checked the safe to make sure the money was still there and opened the exquisite leather box to see that the gold torque still nestled in its bed of red velvet. That too would stay.
She put her passport into her handbag and checked that she had her purse and credit card. After a last look round the room, she noticed the coral bracelet lying on the dresser, and for a moment she hesitated. Then with a shiver of sadness she pulled the delicate circlet onto her wrist.
My only memento of Italy, she thought.
As soon as she managed to get her tears under control, Elena went down to reception and asked for a taxi to be arranged. The receptionist smiled and asked where she wanted to go.
“Naples, the Museum,” Elena replied.
When she got into the taxi, she leaned forward as the driver pulled slowly out into the Piazza.
“Take me to the airport,” she said.
Chapter Seventeen
As she let herself into the tiny apartment, Elena looked around with dismay. There was no sign of Josh, but the place was in total chaos: unwashed mugs and plates, clothes and lager bottles on the floor, drawers pulled out as if ransacked. It was more than she could face right now, and Elena went to the fridge to find a bottle of wine still half-full. She poured herself a large glass and drank it down quickly, followed by a couple of headache tablets.
Her bedroom was still as she’d left it and had escaped the mess of the living area. Although it was still only early evening, Elena rummaged in her chest of drawers, pulling out a pair of warm pajamas. The flat felt cold and damp after the sunshine of Italy and she crawled into bed sadly, pulling the duvet over her. At last, completely on her own, she could let her emotions take over.
She cried as she thought how her life had been turned upside down since she’d met Guy. It hurt to think of the gradual trust and understanding that she’d believed was developing between them and the growing love that she’d felt for him. And all that time he had been keeping the secret of Chiara, just a few miles away in the Italian countryside.
Why did he take me there, she wondered, so near to that beautiful and accomplished woman.
Was there some perverse thrill he got from comparing Elena, with her pale skin and extra-rounded curves with his slim, svelte mistress?
It was all coming back, Elena realised: her lack of confidence in her looks, and her total distrust of men.
She pulled the duvet over her head and cried herself to sleep, relieved that Josh had still not appeared and glad to be alone.
She woke again in the early hours, still not quite daylight, and went to the tiny bathroom to take another two tablets. She caught a glimpse of her pale face, shadowed eyes and wild hair in the mirror. Against her better judgement she found the rest of the wine and drank it down. Feeling slightly shaky she tumbled back into bed. There was nothing to get up for; she would sleep for the rest of the morning.
§
Elena was woken by a loud noise coming from the living area of the flat. She took a few moments to take in her surroundings and realised that someone was hammering on the locked door. Josh must have forgotten his keys again. She stumbled from bed, still sleepy and rumpled in her old pajamas, and opened the door.
Guy pushed his way into the room, slamming the door behind him and leaning back against it, his arms folded tightly against his chest and anger radiating in waves from him.
“What the hell are you doing Elena?” he shouted, his eyes blazing.
She stood perfectly still, shocked to see him there and shaken by his obvious rage.
“What am I doing?” she said, trying desperately to keep her voice level. “I'm back home where I belong, not being deceived by you with your money and presents.” She paused. “Or being kidnapped and questioned by your mistress,” she added for good measure.
“I’ve spoken to Chiara,” he said gravely. “Why did you leave like that? No note or phone message. I was worried. I thought something had happened to you.”
“Something did happen to me! I was snatched from the street and frightened half to death, then told about a situation I could hardly believe in. I just wanted to get away.”
Guy remained by the closed door and Elena was dismayed to see him begin to cast his steely gaze around the tiny, scruffy flat. What a contrast it must appear to his usual lifestyle.
“And you didn't think to let me know you were coming back to England? Reception said you had taken a taxi to Naples Museum. I had no idea what had happened.” Guy was still furious, and Elena could tell that he was struggling to control himself.
“You didn't tell me about Chiara,” she replied. “What could I be expected to think after that?”
“I was going to tell you everything after the holiday,” he said. “To choose the right time. But we were enjoying ourselves, and I wanted it to go on, I didn’t want to spoil things.”
“There wouldn't be a right time to tell me something like that,” she snapped. “You kept it hidden. You didn't let me into your life.”
Elena sighed. Why was she even being expected to defend herself about running away when she wasn’t at fault?
Guy moved away from the door, taking a step towards her into the small room. He held her arms, looking deep into her eyes, his own gaze so intense, so searching. Feeling his firm grasp, Elena struggled to control herself. Because she wanted to lean against him and feel his strong muscular arms slip around her once more, but at the same time she was still so confused, so damn angry with him.
“And did you let me into your life, Elena?” he said softly. “Be honest. You’ve never let me come here, never introduced me to your brother or talked to me about meeting your family. You haven't mentioned me to any of your friends, as though I'm some kind of dirty secret. And you wouldn't come to my home either although I tried. What is it? Are you afraid of my money? You don't trust me and you don't trust yourself.”
It was too close to the truth. Elena shrugged out of his grip and pushed him hard in the chest, forcing back towards the door.
“It's over,” she said, choking over the words, afraid that the tears that were welling inside were going to escape. She wouldn't cry in front of him; she needed to be alone. “Please go now.”
“It’s your decision,” Guy said coldly.
He turned and pulled the door open, strode through it, slamming it behind him. The sound echoed through the empty flat as Elena stumbled to the cluttered sofa and sank down onto it.
It’s your decision.
The words echoed around Elena’s head as she began once more to sob.
It was over.
§
For the next two days Elena kept to herself, like a wounded animal licking its wounds. She tidied the flat and made a single short trip to the corner shop for essentials. She drank wine and watched TV, going to bed early and waking up several times during the night.
Again and again she turned over that last encounter with Guy in her mind: he’d come to find her, but was it just because he was so angry with her for running away, or had he really wanted to discuss the situation with her, and try to make amends?
Whatever the truth, she’d told him it was over and that she wanted no further contact from him.
Whenever she tried to phone, his phone was switched off. It would’ve been good to have company, even though he’d probably mention that he had warned her everything would go disastrously wrong. Still, she would like to know where he was, at least. There had been some talk of going with the band to some summer festivals, so that was almost certainly the answer.
She longed to talk to someone she could open up to, and after deliberating for a while she finally rang Yvonne, who agreed to come round for a talk t
hat evening.
Elena handed out the glasses of wine as they settled themselves down on the sofa. Yvonne looked searchingly at her.
“You look as though you’re in shock or something. What's all this about?”
Elena knew she mustn’t hold anything back, and so she poured out her heart to her friend. She started by disclosing that Guy had been the donor of the large amount of money for the charity, then how they had met, gone on sight-seeing trips on Sundays when he wasn’t working, and then finally told her about the fantastic holiday.
Yvonne's eyes widened as Elena described the luxury yacht, and the hotel in Sorrento. She talked about Guy's background and his fabulous wealth, and then she came to the difficult part, the part about Chiara, but held nothing back.
Then to the end: how Guy had come to the flat, their argument, and how she’d pushed him away, telling him it was over.
Yvonne sat back, saying nothing, seemingly stunned by the revelations. She took some time to think things over before asking if Elena wanted her opinion there and then, or would she rather not talk any more about the problem that evening.
Elena trusted her friend. She knew that Yvonne was mature enough to consider things from all angles and not pull any punches when she gave her advice.
“Yes please,” she replied. “Just tell me what you think, right now. I'm all over the place, going over and over it in my head trying to pull myself together again.”
“Well,” Yvonne spoke in a soft, measured tone, nothing dramatic, just plain common sense. “Let me ask a question first, how old is Guy?”
“Late thirties? Almost forty I think.”
“What you have to remember, Elena, is that he’s had a very difficult time in the past. His mother deserted him, his father neglected him, and his wife aborted their child without telling him. No wonder he’s found relationships difficult and turned to working all the time as some sort of escape from real life. Then, he meets this woman, Chiara, some years ago. They have a bond as she’s also struggling with life and financial difficulties. He helps her out with investment, supports her mother and her child, and in return she travels and goes to functions with him as his partner. And occasionally they sleep together. You can see how it all came about; they needed each other. It seems to be quite an adult, understandable arrangement on both sides. Something that worked for them. I have to say, he sounds like a very generous person.”
A Fragile Heart (BBW Billionaire Light Romance) Page 8
