To Wear His Ring Again

by Chantelle Shaw

  Constantin felt the acid burn of jealousy in his stomach at the thought of pretty-boy Fellows rushing to Isobel’s rescue like a proverbial knight in shining armour. The guitarist was engaged to his girlfriend, he reminded himself. In his mind he heard the voice of his father’s second wife.

  ‘You are jealous of any man I happen to glance at, Franco,’ Lorena had cried.

  Dio! His jealousy of Isobel’s friendships with other people was proof that he was no better than his father, Constantin told himself grimly. De Severino blood ran through his veins, and it was possible that an unpredictable, violent monster lived inside him as it had in his father. The idea sickened him. It was imperative that he persuade Isobel to return to him until he had secured the chairmanship of DSE, but the reason he had deliberately drawn away from her in the first year of their marriage still remained. She was the only woman who had ever incited feelings of jealous possessiveness in him.

  He visualised his father stretching a hand towards Lorena as they stood on the balcony. Seconds later she had fallen to her death. Her scream would haunt Constantin for ever.

  The sound of two rings on the doorbell dragged his mind from the past. He stared at Isobel and his gut ached with a longing that was more than physical desire. However, his voice gave away nothing of his thoughts. ‘The cavalry are here,’ he drawled sardonically. He sauntered across the room but paused in the doorway and glanced back at her. ‘Promise me you’ll take care, piccola?’

  How could Constantin sound as though he cared about her when she knew full well that he didn’t give a damn? Isobel wondered. She shrugged helplessly. ‘I promise.’

  ‘Bene.’ His voice was soft, and his smile stole her breath. She closed her eyes while she fought for composure, and when she opened them again he had gone.

  * * *

  ‘Jezebel!’ David’s high-pitched voice shook with fury. ‘I read in the newspapers that you are married. But you are mine, Izzy. You should not have allowed this other man to lay his hands on your body. You have betrayed me, and you must pay, bitch...’

  Isobel’s fingers trembled as she hit the button on her mobile phone to end the call, cutting off the stalker as he issued a string of obscenities. It was the first time that he had actually threatened her, but as yet the police had been unable to trace him and they were powerless to do anything to help, other than to advise her not to answer calls from a withheld number.

  It was so unfair, she thought, frustrated. She felt hounded and increasingly worried. Although she had changed her mobile-phone number again, David had somehow got hold of her new number. Her heart had leapt into her throat when the message number withheld had flashed on her phone’s screen, but out of fearful curiosity she had listened to the stalker’s latest hysterical outburst.

  The day after the charity fund-raising party, pictures of her and Constantin kissing on the dance floor had been in all the tabloids. The journalists must have done their homework, because the revelation that she was married to the billionaire head of the luxury goods company DSE was prominent in the gossip columns, as was speculation about the state of her current relationship with Constantin. Fortunately the Stone Ladies PR office had dealt with the press interest, but the phone calls from David had started again, and over the past few days his messages had become increasingly menacing.

  ‘Are you sure you’ll be all right while Emily and I are in the Caribbean?’ Ryan strolled across the patio to where Isobel was sitting in the garden of his house in Chelsea. ‘You’re welcome to stay here until the police have caught the nutter responsible for the nuisance calls you’ve been receiving.’ He shot a sharp glance at her tense expression. ‘Has the stalker phoned you again? Emily won’t mind if we postpone our trip.’

  ‘I haven’t heard from him,’ Isobel lied. ‘And I certainly don’t want you to postpone your plans. I know you’ve been looking forward to your holiday, especially since you announced your engagement to Emily in the press. Hopefully you’ll avoid the paparazzi while you’re in St Lucia.’

  Ryan still looked concerned. ‘I don’t like the idea of you going back to your flat. I’d be happier if you would go and stay with Carly and Ben.’

  She shook her head. ‘I’d have to tell Carly about the stalker. I don’t want to cause her any stress, especially in the first crucial weeks of her pregnancy.’

  Isobel had hidden the shaft of pain she’d felt when her friend had revealed that she was expecting a baby. She was truly delighted for Carly and Ben, who had already asked her to be godmother to their first child. The business with the stalker was getting out of hand, she brooded. It was bad enough that her life was disrupted, but she did not want her problems to affect her friends.

  Her phone rang and she jumped like a startled deer, which spoiled her pretence that she was unconcerned by the stalker and earned her a close look from Ryan. Her eyes flew to the phone’s screen and she let out a shaky breath as she recognised the number, and at the same time her heart-rate accelerated.

  ‘Has the stalker contacted you since I spoke to you yesterday?’ Constantin said without preamble, ignoring her query about the weather in New York. ‘I assume you have told the police that David has somehow discovered your new number and phoned you several times this week?’

  ‘I reported his calls,’ Isobel confirmed.

  ‘Has he rung today?’

  She glanced at Ryan, who was standing within earshot of her conversation. She could hardly tell Constantin about the stalker’s recent, threatening call when she had denied to Ryan that she had received any more nuisance calls. If she told the truth, she knew Ryan would cancel his holiday with his fiancée.

  ‘He hasn’t phoned today,’ she said with forced airiness. ‘Hopefully David has got bored of his game.’

  A snort of disbelief was followed by a tense silence from the other end of the line as Constantin struggled to control his frustration. He felt a strong urge to return to London immediately so that he could shake some sense into Isobel. ‘I don’t believe the stalker is playing a game,’ he said curtly. ‘I wish you would allow me to hire a bodyguard to protect you while this man remains a potential threat.’

  ‘You’re overreacting. I don’t want a bodyguard.’

  He gave an exasperated sigh. ‘I should have known that you would not accept my help, but in this instance your determination to be independent is foolish.’

  Isobel’s nerves were on edge following the phone call from the stalker, and her temper flared. ‘I’m not six years old,’ she reminded Constantin coldly. ‘I can take care of myself.’ She winced as he swore down the phone. ‘Really, there is no need to worry about me. I’m going up to Derbyshire to visit Mum. I think she’s lonely now that Dad has gone, and while I’m away from London maybe the stalker will lose interest in me.’ Realising that she could spend all day arguing with Constantin, she said quickly, ‘I’ve got to go. I hope your business trip is successful,’ she added in a conciliatory tone before ending the call.

  * * *

  The roads in central London were fairly quiet in the middle of the afternoon before the start of the rush hour. As Isobel drove past the front of her apartment building she waved to the new concierge who she had met when Ryan had accompanied her to her flat a couple of days ago to collect her post. The concierge had introduced himself as Bill. Apparently, he was ex-army and had been a champion boxer for his regiment, a statement borne out by his massive build and misshapen nose that looked as if it had been broken on several occasions.

  A ramp led down to the underground car park beneath the building. She parked in her bay, slid out of the car and opened the boot to retrieve the bag she had taken with her when she had stayed with Ryan and Emily. The couple were well suited, she mused. It was wonderful to see Ryan so happy after the depression he had suffered following Simon’s death.

  On the other side of the car park an engine started u
p. Out of the corner of her eye Isobel saw a white van drive towards her, but she paid it no attention; every other vehicle in London seemed to be a white van. In her mind she planned what clothes to pack for the trip to visit her mother in Derbyshire. She closed the boot of her car and turned to walk towards the lifts, but the van was blocking her path and as the driver jumped out her heart crashed painfully against her ribcage.

  ‘You!’

  David did not reply, and his silence unnerved her more than if he had verbally abused her as he had over the phone. He stared at her with wild eyes and when he did finally speak his tone was coldly menacing.

  ‘You must come with me, Izzy.’

  Her eyes darted to the van’s open rear door and the length of rope coiled up inside. Constantin’s words jerked into her mind. ‘I don’t believe the stalker is playing a game,’ he had said seriously. Fear paralysed her, but as David suddenly lunged towards her and grabbed hold of her arms she reacted instinctively and kicked him in the shin. He yelped, but tightened his grip, his breath coming in panting rasps.

  ‘You will be mine for all eternity. Death will unite us for ever.’

  ‘Let me go!’ She struggled frantically as he tried to force her into the back of the van. He was surprisingly strong and Isobel found she was no match for him. If only she could alert someone’s attention, but there was no one in the car park and her desperate scream echoed around the underground vault.

  The stalker’s fingers were biting into her arms and her thin jacket offered scant protection. She renewed her efforts to escape, but he possessed a manic strength and pushed her so violently that she crumpled half inside the van. She felt sick with terror. If he managed to get her inside the van and restrained her with the rope before driving away she dreaded to imagine what he intended to do with her.

  Fired by desperation, she fought like a wildcat, kicking out at him so that he swore and released her arms. David renewed his attack, but the adrenalin coursing through Isobel meant that she barely felt the blows he dealt her. Distantly she became aware of the sound of pounding footsteps, a harsh male voice shouting. Suddenly the blows from the stalker ceased and Bill the concierge’s bulky figure appeared.

  ‘Get your hands off the lady!’

  With a roar of fury, David threw her into the van. Her head struck the edge of the door with such force that she felt agonising pain shoot through her skull before blackness descended.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  TWENTY-FOUR HOURS after she had been attacked by the stalker, the doctor at the hospital where Isobel had been taken by ambulance explained that, following an episode of concussion, it was common to experience a moderate to severe headache.

  ‘You were admitted overnight as a precaution. If your vision becomes blurred, or you start vomiting, you must return to hospital, but you were only unconscious for a few minutes and there should not be any lasting damage.’

  Isobel nodded and winced as the slight movement hurt like mad. She wondered if the doctor would consider the pneumatic drill vibrating inside her skull was merely a moderate headache. All things considered, she knew she had got off lightly. The bruises on her arms, ribs and temple would fade and she had been assured by the medical staff that the nauseous sensation and the feeling that she wanted to burst into tears were side-effects of shock.

  ‘I can’t believe such an awful thing happened,’ Carly said for probably the tenth time. ‘Thank heavens the new concierge at the apartment building saw you being attacked on CCTV and rushed to your rescue. You should have told me about the stalker, Izzy.’

  ‘I didn’t want to worry you.’ She gave her best friend a rueful glance. The band’s keyboard player looked visibly upset, and Isobel added guilt to the list of emotions churning inside her. Ben and Carly had rushed to the hospital as soon as they had heard what had happened. The Stone Ladies’ manager, Mike Jones, as well as various other friends, had also visited and expressed shock and sympathy. Ryan had phoned when he had heard about the attack, but thankfully she had managed to dissuade him from cutting short his holiday to come home. Isobel was grateful for everyone’s concern, but she longed to be alone and have some peace and quiet.

  She closed her eyes, but the sound of a familiar gravelly voice made her jerk them open again and her stomach dipped as she looked towards the door and met Constantin’s brilliant blue gaze. For several simmering seconds it was as if they were the only two people in the universe, connected by a mystical force that defied description.

  ‘Dio! Isabella.’ There was a curious nuance in his tone, and Isobel was shocked by his haggard appearance. His skin was grey beneath his tan and his jacket was badly creased as if he had slept in his clothes.

  ‘You’re in New York.’ She grimaced at the inanity of her statement, and told herself it was the shock of the attack, not the shock of seeing Constantin, that had scrambled her brain.

  ‘I flew back the moment I received Carly’s call.’

  Isobel shot her friend a reproachful look. ‘There was no need...’ she began, but Constantin stalled her.

  ‘There was every need,’ he said grimly. ‘I am your husband and as such your next of kin.’ He did not add that when he had learned Isobel had been attacked by the stalker he could have sworn that his heart stopped beating for what had felt like a lifetime.

  He came into the room and immediately dominated the small space. Isobel swallowed as he leaned over the bed and gently, so gently, traced a finger over the swelling above her left eye. A muscled flickered in his jaw.

  ‘Thank goodness Bill got to you before you were seriously harmed.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘How do you know the name of the concierge at my apartment building?’

  ‘Bill Judd is a private protection officer. You refused to allow me to hire a bodyguard to look after you so I did the next best thing and appointed Bill to watch your flat in case the stalker returned.’ Constantin ignored her swift intake of breath. ‘I did not know you had learned to drive while we’ve been separated, and Bill wasn’t expecting you to park in the car park. Fortunately he kept a close eye on all the CCTV screens and was able to reach you before the stalker forced you into his van. But he was not quick enough to prevent you from being injured.’

  Once again, Isobel heard a strange catch in his voice, as if he was struggling to contain his emotions. But she must have imagined it, she decided, because the one thing she knew about her enigmatic husband was that he was never troubled by strong emotions.

  ‘Do you happen to have your passport with you?’

  She gave him a puzzled look. ‘It’s in my handbag. I always carry it with me.’

  ‘Good, that means it won’t be necessary to stop off at your flat on the way to the airport.’

  ‘Hold on a minute.’ She lifted her head from where she had been resting it against the pillows and felt as though a red-hot poker had been thrust into her skull. ‘Why do I need my passport?’

  ‘My jet is being refuelled ready to fly us to Rome.’ His eyes glittered fiercely as she opened her mouth to protest. ‘Don’t even think of arguing, cara. The stalker escaped capture. He demonstrated when he attacked you that he is disturbed and dangerous.’

  Carly made a distressed sound. ‘You mean he might try and hurt Izzy again?’

  ‘H...how did he get away,’ Isobel asked shakily. ‘Before I was knocked out I saw the concierge...bodyguard grab hold of him.’

  Constantin hesitated, reluctant to frighten Isobel more than she had already been, but he could not hide the truth from her. ‘The stalker was carrying a knife. He stabbed Bill in the hand and managed to drive away. The police were immediately alerted and they found the hired van abandoned a few streets from your apartment building, but unfortunately they have been unable to locate the man yet.

  ‘His name is David Archibald, by the way. It was possible to identify him from the C
CTV film. He was employed as caretaker at the offices of the Stone Ladies’ management company. He must have had access to personal files and computer records after the staff had gone home in the evening, and that’s how he was able to discover your phone number and address.’ Constantin sought and held Isobel’s gaze. ‘The man has a history of psychotic behaviour and the police believe he poses a threat to your safety.’

  ‘Izzy, you have to go away with Constantin until the police catch this man,’ Carly said fiercely. Her face was white and strained beneath her bright red curls, and the sight of a tear sliding down her cheek made Isobel hurt inside. She and Carly had been friends since nursery school and were as close as sisters.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll take care of her,’ Constantin assured Carly. His gentle tone surprised Isobel. In the past he had seemed to resent her close bond with the other members of the band.

  After extracting a promise from Isobel that she would accept Constantin’s help, Ben and Carly left. ‘There’s no reason for me to go to Italy with you,’ she told him as soon as they were alone. ‘I realise it would be sensible not to return to my flat until the police find the stalker, but why can’t I stay at the house in Grosvenor Square?’

  ‘Whittaker has taken an extended period of leave to visit his niece in New Zealand. I need to be at DSE’s head office to oversee a new project, and I want you in Rome with me so I can keep you safe.’

  Isobel grimaced. ‘You are not responsible for me. I need to be in London to work.’

  ‘I checked with your manager. You’ve finished recording songs for the new album, and the Stone Ladies’ next concert is not until September. In this instance I am responsible for you, Isabella.’ Constantin’s jaw clenched. ‘I blame myself for the attack. The stalker only started acting aggressively after pictures of us kissing at the fund-raising party were published in the newspapers. That, together with the revelation in the press that you are my wife, was probably enough to have tipped the mentally disturbed man over the edge.’