Читать книгу Bought: Destitute yet Defiant - Sarah Morgan - Страница 6

THE ground floor.

She was living on the ground floor.

Silvio stood in perfect stillness as she undid the bolts on the door, struggling with anger almost too big to contain. He knew that his ability to control his emotions was one of the things that separated him from those animals they’d left behind, and yet right now he didn’t feel so different from those men. What had she said to him?

I use what God gave me.

Remembering the careless way she’d thrown those words at him, Silvio turned away from her, not trusting himself to speak or even look at her. In his head he was seeing Jessie the child, clinging to her brother and not understanding where her comfortable, familiar life had gone. He couldn’t reconcile that vision of vulnerable innocence with reality—he kept seeing Jessie in the tight gold dress, using what God gave her.

The innocence had gone.

He’d known from the moment he’d taken her mouth and felt her wild, uninhibited response.

Just thinking about it had an immediate impact on his body and Silvio swore in Italian, exasperated by his inability to switch off that part of himself. Knowing that his priority had to be to get her away from here, he inhaled deeply and forced himself to focus on what was important.

Saving her life.

Turning back to her, he saw that she was shivering under his coat, but he knew there was little he could do about that. Even though she sold her favours to men, he knew instinctively that if he touched her now he’d risk adding another bruise to the one already developing on the right side of his face.

It had come as no surprise that she knew how to punch.

He’d taught her.

She undid the last bolt and pushed open the door. ‘There. Home, sweet home. You can go now. Thanks for the ride.’

‘I’m not going anywhere.’ They were a sitting target in the dimly lit walkway and he wasn’t leaving her there.

Silvio glanced back at the gleaming paint of his black Ferrari, the car as visible and out of place as an alien spaceship in a children’s playground.

‘If you’re worried about your toy, Silvio, just go and play with it,’ she said tartly, gasping as he yanked her back and stepped in front of her. ‘What are you doing? I’m not inviting you in for coffee if that’s what you’re hoping. You had one kiss for free. That’s all you’re getting.’ The bravado hid an ocean of fear and Silvio wondered how long it would take her to admit that she was scared.

‘That kiss saved your life.’ Even it had been at the expense of his own mental stability.

Taking what he assumed to be a last look at his car, Silvio went into the flat first, knowing exactly what he would find.

Much of his childhood had been spent in places exactly like this—bars at the window, locks on the door and a board hammered over the letter box because whatever anyone wanted to post through your door, it sure as hell wasn’t going to be a letter.

Being back here was harder than he was prepared to admit, even to himself.

It was dank and small and it took him less than five seconds to reassure himself that no one was inside.

Closing the blinds and securing the front door, he turned with a growl. ‘You shouldn’t be living on the ground floor.’ The moment the words left his mouth he could have bitten his tongue because he of all people should have known why she’d chosen this position.

He pressed his fingers to his temples, tasting regret. Sensitive words didn’t come easily to him but he was fairly sure he could have done better than that if he hadn’t been distracted.

Anticipating her reaction, he cast her a look and she looked straight back at him, her eyes dark pools of defiance.

‘What? If you’re waiting for me to crumble, Silvio, you’re going to be waiting a long time. I’m tough as nails.’

Silvio shook his head in disbelief, not knowing whether to laugh or strangle her. ‘There isn’t time for you to crumble,’ he said evenly. ‘You’ve got five minutes to pack anything that’s important to you. Then we’re leaving.’ A flash of gold dress and creamy skin knocked the words out of his brain and he looked away quickly. The fact that he needed to do so told him just how close to the edge he was.

On reflection, he wished he’d found another way to secure her safety other than by kissing her.

Never before in his life had he had such a slippery grip on control and he knew that if he saw her in that outrageously sexy dress he’d start thinking of all those men looking at her…

How many of them had had their hands on her?

And why had he waited three years to come looking for her? Why had he thought she’d be better without him in her life?

Apparently unaware of his torment, she reached into a cupboard. The coat slipped from her shoulders and the movement of her body gave him a flash of suspender belt. And something else.

With a soft curse Silvio stepped forward and stuck his hand up her dress, ignoring her outraged gasp. He stepped back with the knife in his hand, his mood so dangerous that he didn’t trust himself to be close to her.

‘Maledezione, what is this?’

‘It’s a knife.’ Her gaze challenged him. ‘You should know—it isn’t as if you haven’t seen one before.’

‘You shouldn’t be carrying this.’ His fingers toyed with the blade, the glint of metal winking at him mockingly. ‘If I hadn’t turned up when I did…’

‘I would have used it if I had to.’

Thinking about what would have happened if she’d produced a knife sent ice through his veins.

He’d almost lost her.

A chorus of vicious barking from outside the flat reminded him that they had no time for reflection or recrimination and Silvio slipped the knife into his pocket and retrieved his coat from the floor.

‘Find yourself a coat that fits. I assume you have one. And hurry up.’ He wondered whether he’d been foolish to allow her to come here, but then he reminded himself that they needed her passport.

‘I don’t understand the hurry. It’s going to take me more than five minutes to find somewhere new to live. This is premium property, Silvio—not easy to come by.’ Pulling open a cupboard, she removed a mug and waved it at him. ‘Water? I can’t offer you coffee—they turned the gas and electric off last week.’

‘You’ve just lost thirty seconds of packing time,’ Silvio ground out, prowling to the window and staring into the badly lit concrete walkway that led to the flats. The area made him shiver.

How many times had she risked her life crossing that litter-strewn concrete desert late at night?

‘I take it that’s a no.’ With a careless shrug, she put the mug down on a small table and Silvio glanced back at her, frowning as he saw the red bruising on her knuckles.

‘I’d forgotten about your hand.’

‘My hand is fine. How’s your face?’

‘My face is fine.’ Struggling with emotions he didn’t know he was capable of feeling, Silvio crossed to the small fridge and yanked it open, glaring with disbelief at the empty shelves. ‘What do you eat?’

‘I usually eat out,’ Jessie said blithely, her slender frame telling a different story. ‘I can’t get through the week without dining in at least one Michelin-starred restaurant.’

Ignoring her sarcasm, Silvio reminded himself that his priority was getting her out of this place, not sorting out deficiencies in her diet. ‘Where’s the freezer compartment?’

‘No freezer compartment. You’ll just have to take your gin and tonic without the ice. Sorry for any inconvenience.’

If the situation hadn’t been so urgent he would have admired her courage.

Or maybe it was just that she didn’t know how much danger she was in.

And then she switched on another light and he saw the dark shadows under her eyes.

She knew.

The fact that she was frightened dug deep into his gut. Her life choices were coming back to haunt her and regret sliced through him because if he’d been here, everything would have been different.

He’d thought that leaving was the best thing he could do for her. Now he saw it had been the worst.

‘That’s another minute wasted,’ he drawled softly. ‘Never mind—the ice will have to wait until we’re at my place.’ The bruising on her hand would be worse but he’d have to find some other way of dealing with it. It was better than this nervous tension.

‘I’m not going with you, Silvio.’ She turned on the tap, filled the mug full of water and drank thirstily. But the hand holding the mug was shaking. ‘Get out of my life.’

‘I did that once before. It didn’t work out so well, did it?’

‘It worked perfectly for me.’

‘I’m back in your life, Jessie, whether you like it or not.’

‘You can’t afford me, Silvio. You might be rich but I’m out of your league.’ Her allusion to her dubious lifestyle stoked his anger. He wanted to push her up against the wall and demand to know why she’d allowed this to happen. He wanted to know why it had all gone so wrong. But he knew the answer to that one.

He was responsible. Because of him, she’d given up caring. Because he’d allowed her to send him away, he hadn’t been able to protect her.

Guilt crashed down on him and he heaved it away, knowing it to be a poor friend—a stifling, useless weight that achieved nothing. Keep moving forward—wasn’t that how he’d lived his life?

‘Another thirty seconds gone. I hope you travel light.’ Silvio prowled back to the window and lifted the blinds just enough to give him visual access.

The first thing he noticed was that a small crowd had gathered around his car. The second was that a battered black van with no lights had pulled up at the far end of the street.

He swore in Italian. ‘You’re out of time, Cinderella. Get your passport.’

‘I’ve told you—I’m not going with you.’

‘Now!’ He thundered the word and saw her flinch. ‘Before both our brains are splattered over your wall. Move!’

‘I—’

‘So help me, Jess, my reputation will only protect us for so long. After that we need something a little more concrete. If you say one more word I’ll shoot you myself.’ Distracted by the neckline of her gold dress, he was finding it hard to concentrate. ‘Get your passport!’

‘I don’t have a passport! You’re the one who joined the jet set, not me!’ She yelled the words at him, her cheeks flushed and her eyes defiant. ‘Why would I need a passport? International travel isn’t exactly high on my list of priorities.’

Acutely conscious of the vulnerability revealed by that statement, Silvio hunted for a sensitive response but in the end resorted to practicality. ‘I’ll get you a passport.’

‘I’ve told you, I’m not—’

‘You come of your own free will or I carry you,’ he growled thickly. ‘Your choice.’

‘You call that a choice?’ A car door slammed and she jumped. Her eyes flew to his and he saw her terror.

‘Discussion over.’ He grabbed her wrist but she dug her heels in.

‘Wait—there’s something I need…’ Wrenching her wrist out of his grip, she scrambled onto the rickety table and removed a shoebox from a cupboard.

Averting his eyes from another flash of stocking and smooth thigh, Silvio stared through the blinds and saw the van doors open. Six of them. The same six.

Pulling out his phone, he made a call, the exchange of words taking all of five seconds to complete.

Seeing Jessie teetering on the table, he reached out and swung her down. He tried to take the shoebox from her but she snarled at him like a lioness protecting a litter of cubs, clutching the box so tightly that her fingers were white and the lid of the box crumpled slightly.

‘Whatever is in that box, it isn’t worth risking your life for,’ he thundered, but he let her keep the box. ‘Does the bathroom window open? Is there a way out of the back?’ He knew there would be, because there was no way Jessie would live anywhere that didn’t have several exits.

‘This way.’ She vanished through a door and Silvio followed her, bumping his head on the doorframe and squashing inside the tiny bathroom he’d seen briefly when he’d checked for intruders. There was barely room for one of them, let alone two.

She wasn’t coming back here, he promised himself savagely as she pushed up the window and dropped silently onto the grass, the movement affording him another glimpse of her gorgeous legs. He was going to make sure of it.

He followed her through the window, grabbed her hand and hauled her back towards the front of the building.

She dug her heels in. ‘Not that way. They’re waiting for us.’

‘They’ve gone in the front.’ Hearing the splintering of wood, Silvio scooped her up in his arms and carried her towards the car just as the sound of police sirens split the air. She was still clutching the shoebox and her hair brushed against his cheek, the scent sending a thousand forbidden memories skimming across his senses.

‘What’s in that damn box, Jess?’

‘Stuff. Silvio, drop me and get out of here…’ Her voice cracked and she struggled in his arms. ‘You don’t want to be involved in this. You don’t need those headlines in your fancy new life. Leave me.’

It was his first glimpse of the real Jessie—kind, caring Jessie, the terrified, frightened girl he’d met when he’d still been a wild teenager making all the wrong choices. ‘I’m not leaving you again, Jess. Get used to it. And with a background like mine it’s a bit late to worry about what the media are going to write.’ He unlocked the Ferrari with the press of a button and dropped her and her precious shoebox onto the passenger seat.

The movement was too much for the cheap gold dress and the seam split, testing his restraint by exposing a generous section of bare midriff and the shimmer of sexy underwear.

Deciding that he would rather have faced a gun, Silvio recoiled and slammed the door.

Without looking over his shoulder, he slid behind the wheel and accelerated away from his past, keeping his eyes fixed forward.

Something soft was pressed against her cheek and she felt deliciously warm. If this was heaven, it was a great place.

‘Jess?’ A rough male voice came from nearby. ‘Jessie, can you hear me?’

Jessie assumed she was supposed to respond but she was just too warm and comfortable to move and anyway the voice sounded angry and she preferred to stay in the protective clouds of sleep where nothing could touch her.

‘Maledezione, I should have removed that wet dress. She’s been asleep for too long.’

‘Could be shock, boss. And she’s warm enough under the blanket.’ Another voice, this one deferential. ‘Do you want me to call the doc?’

‘No, not yet.’ The hard voice again. The angry one. Only this time there was a hint of something else in those steely tones.

Worry?

Had she really slept that long?

Surely not. She never, ever slept.

She only ever dozed, kept awake by her tormented thoughts and the ever-present threat of danger.

Drifting in that blissful land between sleep and wakefulness, Jessie realised that she’d slept because she’d felt secure. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she knew she was safe.

Jessie opened her eyes and met his. Her heart emptied itself into that one, single look and she saw the answering flare of awareness in his eyes. There wasn’t a sound in the room, nothing but the hammering of her heart and his sharp, indrawn breath.

And then she remembered.

She remembered why she couldn’t feel this way.

He withdrew from her instantly, the hardening of his mouth the only indication that he’d read her thoughts.

‘There’s a bathroom through that door.’ His tone was neutral and he gestured to an archway. ‘Dressing room through there. Help yourself to anything that fits. When you’ve freshened up, we’ll talk.’

‘Dressing room?’ Jessie sat up, realising that the warmth and comfort had been delivered by an opulent velvet throw in a rich shade of aubergine. Underneath she was still wearing the minuscule gold dress and next to her was the shoebox. With a rush of relief, she curled her fingers over it, pulling it closer.

Silvio watched her for a long, disturbing moment and then a man appeared in the doorway and he glanced towards him. ‘Yes?’

‘Chief Inspector Warren on the phone. Says it’s urgent.’

‘I’ll call him back.’ Silvio turned back to her and Jessie stared at him in disbelief.

‘You were the one who called the police?’

‘That’s what they’re there for, Jess. Dealing with crime. I need to return this call.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘If you need anything, shout. I’ll be outside.’

‘No, wait—we can’t stay here. If they know where I live then they probably followed us here—they’re dangerous…’ Panic fluttered inside her like the wings of a trapped butterfly and his lips curved into a sardonic smile.

‘I’m dangerous too,’ he said softly. ‘Or have you forgotten that?’

She’d forgotten nothing and her eyes lifted to his cold, handsome face and she shivered.

‘You used the police as delaying tactics but that won’t work for long. They want money from me—and they want…’ She couldn’t bring herself to articulate the rest of the sentence and she didn’t need to because they both knew what she was referring to.

His eyes darkened and he turned abruptly and strode to the window, as if he were struggling with something. ‘If you can’t even say the word then perhaps you should consider changing your profession.’

She should have corrected him but she didn’t want to.

Let him think it.

His revulsion and contempt would help create the distance she needed.

‘What is this place, anyway?’ She looked around the room, seeing space and luxury. ‘Is it a hotel or something? Clever. They wouldn’t look for me in a place as fancy as this.’

‘It’s my apartment.’ He answered without turning. ‘And you’re lying in my bed.’

His apartment?

His bed?

Trying not to think about the bed part, Jessie swallowed, kicking herself mentally for being so stupid. For not knowing that apartments this big existed. Feeling gauche and unsophisticated, she shrugged carelessly. ‘So—business must be good if you can afford a place like this.’

‘Business is fine.’

Jessie pushed her hair out of her eyes, willing to bet he’d never had anyone like her in his fancy apartment before.

It was a supremely male domain. Nothing girly here. No pink or frills or concessions towards anything soft. It was upmarket and expensive, luxurious in every sense. And surprisingly minimalist. The corners of her mouth flickered. ‘I didn’t think you could live without your gadgets. Where’s the flat-screen TV?’

‘Hidden. Why?’ Finally he turned, his handsome face devoid of expression, his dark eyes revealing nothing of his thoughts. ‘Do you want to watch something?’

‘No.’ Her eyes were fixed on the modern fireplace that was a feature of the back wall. It wasn’t lit, but the breath had become trapped in her throat and she stared for a moment, forcing herself to breathe calmly, knowing his eyes were on her. Watching. ‘Stylish.’ She forced the word between dry lips and he gave a brief nod, apparently satisfied by her response.

Shaken by how hard it was to hide her feelings from him, Jessica reminded herself that she needed to be careful.

He knew her too well. ‘This is really your home?’

‘One of them.’

Jessica tried to imagine owning more than one place like this and gave a twisted smile. She couldn’t have felt more out of place if he’d dropped her into the jungle in her cheap gold dress. In fact, she probably would have felt safer in the jungle—she was used to living amongst wild animals. But this…she glanced around the acres of space…was an alien environment.

‘You don’t need to feel uncomfortable, Jess.’

‘I don’t feel uncomfortable.’ The words were defiant and wasted because they both knew she was lying.

He sighed. ‘And you don’t need to be scared.’

‘I’m not scared.’

She was terrified.

Not of the group of men that were so intent on spilling her blood, not even of this swanky apartment. What frightened her was him.

Her feelings.

They were too tangled, too complex, too dark…

It was a cruel twist of fate that had made him her rescuer.

Suddenly she knew she couldn’t stay on this bed any longer—his bed—and she threw off the velvet cover and padded silently over to him, feeling his eyes follow her every move.

It shouldn’t have bothered her.

Men did that.

They watched her.

She’d taught herself to handle it and it no longer worried her—sometimes it was even useful because it meant that her tips were bigger. This time it was different.

This man was different.

‘Where are we?’ She wasn’t interested in where they were, but she looked out of the window because it gave her something to focus on other than the man.

It took her a moment to react because the view was so very different from what she’d been expecting. This was a rich man’s view—London at its sparkling, night-time best, a vibrant city dressed like a woman ready for a glamorous date, all high heels and diamonds.

His world.

Far beneath her, the river Thames curled in a ribbon and Jessica gave a gasp and recoiled.

As if he’d been waiting for precisely this reaction he curled strong hands over her shoulders and steadied her. ‘It’s all right.’

Panic choked her and she gasped for breath, teetering on the precipitous edge between sanity and hysteria. ‘It’s not all right! It’s not all right, Silvio! You brought me to the top floor!’ Her voice rose and she snatched in several short breaths. ‘How could you do that? How could you? I have to get out of here!’ She tried to drag herself out of his arms but his fingers bit into her arms and he shook her slightly.

‘Jess, listen to me.’ His voice was commanding, his grip preventing her from running. She would have gone over the balcony if she’d had the chance and he knew it. ‘You’re not trapped. You’re safe.’

There was roaring in her ears and she lifted her hand to her mouth, her breathing so rapid that the world started to spin.

She heard Silvio swear softly and then he hauled her across the room and yanked open a door. In front of her was a curving metal slide, like something from a child’s playground. She stared at it blankly and she heard him sigh.

‘If you sit on it, you’ll be on the ground floor in less than four seconds. I designed it myself.’ Still with his hand around her wrist he dragged her back to the glass wall overlooking the river, hit a button and the whole thing slid open.

The cold air and driving rain made her gasp but he pulled her onto the balcony and gestured. ‘Staircase.’ His tone was forceful, his gaze compelling as he tried to penetrate the terror that was eating her up. ‘From this bedroom alone there are three exits. Do you understand me, Jess? Three exits. There are another nine from the rest of the apartment. It isn’t possible to be trapped in here.’

Another soaking of rain was turning the cheap gold dress into a sodden rag and she was shivering again, but Jessie managed a nod.

In terms of acknowledgement it wasn’t much, but it was obviously enough for him because he drew her back inside, hit the button again and once again the outside world vanished and the glass wall closed her inside the cocoon of climate controlled luxury.

Humiliation swamped her. ‘Sorry…’

‘Jessie—you were dragged out of a burning house when you were five years old,’ he said grimly. ‘Don’t apologise to me. I know why you sleep on the ground floor. I know why you don’t like tall buildings, but you’re safe here. I know it’s not the ground floor, but you can’t be trapped. Trust me.’

He was the last man in the world she wanted to trust, but what choice did she have? At this moment in time she was in too much of a mess to be fussy.

If she left his protection, she’d be dead.

Without releasing her hand, Silvio strode purposefully into the bathroom. He hit a button on the wall and hot, scented water swirled into the large tub.

Jessie wanted to say something but she had no idea what.

He stared at her frozen features with a mixture of concern and exasperation. ‘You’re cold. You’re wet. You’ve had a long day. Get out of that damn dress, soak in the bath, close your eyes. Then you can eat. Judging from the contents of your fridge, you need it.’ His eyes raked her face and then he cautiously released her wrist, still watching her. ‘After that we’ll talk.’

Jessie’s teeth were chattering. ‘What’s the point in talking? You’ll do what you want to do.’

A sardonic smile touched his beautiful mouth. ‘Yes, you’re right. I will. Get in the bath, Jess.’

Did she look that bad?

She scraped her soaking hair away from her face, knowing that she must look like a drowned rat. Knowing that she owed him thanks. Despite her gratitude for his intervention, she just couldn’t say the words. Showing gratitude to a man she hated proved impossible. She was still trying to force the words past her uncooperative lips when he gestured to a heated cabinet by the bath.

‘Towels. Anything else you need, shout.’ He paused by the door—cool, sophisticated and very much at home in this world. ‘Perhaps you’d better not lock the door.’

He closed the door behind him and Jessie immediately locked it.

Why had he suddenly reappeared in her life? And why was he helping her? After the things she’d said to him, she hadn’t expected ever to see him again.

It couldn’t be guilt or regret.

She knew that Silvio Brianza didn’t have a conscience.

She leaned her forehead against the locked door, embarrassed by her loss of control and wishing it hadn’t been him who had witnessed it. Then she laughed. No one but him would have understood. But Silvio had been there after the fire. He’d been living in the care home where she and her orphaned teenage brother had been taken after the tragedy that had shattered their young lives.

They’d lost everything, and everyone, and they’d been thrust into a world that had been both harsh and cruelly unfamiliar.

Jessie turned and looked at the bath, tempted by the froth of luxurious bubbles and the prospect of steaming water. How long had it been since she’d dipped herself in hot water? Too long. And never in a bath like this one. To just lie in a bath and relax, knowing that someone else was watching for danger…

Despite the sleep she felt exhausted, but she knew she couldn’t stay here. Not with him. It was out of the question. He was her enemy.

She rubbed her fingers over her lips, trying to erase the memory of that kiss—telling herself that she had no reason to feel guilty. He’d kissed her. Not the other way round.

But she hadn’t fought him off, had she?

Confused and angry with herself, she stripped off the gold dress, ripping it further in the process. She was not going to feel guilty. It wasn’t as if she’d gone to him for help. She hadn’t. Even when she’d been at her lowest point, she hadn’t allowed herself to approach him.

And she’d had no choice but to accept his help tonight. If she hadn’t, she’d be lying bleeding in that alleyway.

Survival, she reminded herself grimly. That was what her life was about.

Survival.

Reasoning that she wasn’t going to get far in a soaking-wet gold dress, Jessie stripped it off and slid into the bath, moaning with rapture as the hot water soothed and warmed her skin.

Just for a minute, she promised herself as she slid deeper under the foam. What harm could it do?

But she couldn’t relax. She was too wound up after what had happened and luxuriating in warm bubbles was something she’d never done before. It felt…decadent. She shampooed her hair quickly and in less than two minutes she was out of the bath and drying herself in a soft warm towel. Eyeing the damp gold dress on the floor, she faced the fact that she was going to have to borrow something to wear.

Her instinct was to refuse his offer, but how could she?

What clothes she had were back in her grim little flat. And she wouldn’t miss any of them.

Wondering why she was worrying about modesty when he thought she was a prostitute, Jessie wrapped herself in a long bathrobe before emerging cautiously from the bathroom.

Her precautions proved unnecessary because the bedroom was empty, the lighting dimmed to a warm, intimate glow.

She stared at the bed, her wayward mind conjuring up images she didn’t want to see.

Was this where he brought his women?

Did he kiss them the way he’d kissed her?

Forcing aside that unsettling thought, she snatched up the shoebox she’d rescued from her flat and tucked it under her arm. Then she padded over to the dressing room, aware that the last place she’d lived would have fitted into this space with room to spare. It was huge.

A door had been left open for her and she peeped inside, like a nervous child exploring its mother’s wardrobe, afraid of being caught.

Her mouth fell open because she’d never seen anything like it, even in her dreams.

There were racks of shoes stored in transparent boxes; jumpers and T-shirts in a rainbow of colours, all perfectly folded, and rails of shimmering, glamorous dresses.

Jessie reached out a hand and touched one of the dresses, the silk sliding over her fingers like fluid. There was nothing cheap here. Nothing suitable for the life she led.

The clothes went with the apartment and the apartment was the domain of the super-rich. She bent to tuck her battered, cardboard shoebox safely into the corner of the cupboard, out of sight.

‘Are you all right?’ His voice came from behind her and Jessie jumped as if she’d been caught stealing, clutching the edges of the dressing gown together at her throat to make sure that not a millimetre of flesh was exposed.

‘I’m fine.’

‘You were quick.’

She stiffened defensively, not wanting to admit that she was too jumpy to relax. ‘I spent as long as I needed.’

‘Why aren’t you dressed?’

Jessie gave a humourless laugh and glanced over her shoulder at the rails of clothes. ‘Because I couldn’t see anything suitable.’

His gaze slid to the rails of clothes and a faint smile touched his mouth. ‘That’s a very female remark. A closet full of clothes and nothing to wear.’

‘They’re not right.’

‘Nothing fits?’

‘I have no idea if anything fits me! I haven’t tried any of them on.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I can’t wear any of that stuff, Silvio!’ Suddenly she wished she were wearing her heels. At least then she wouldn’t have felt quite so small and insignificant next to him. Or maybe she would. Acknowledging that her feelings of inferiority came from the inside, Jessie glared at him, exasperated that he had so little clue as to how she was feeling. ‘Where am I going to wear fancy stuff like this? I can hardly walk around the streets wearing a floor-length gown, can I?’

‘You’re not going to be walking around the streets.’ Studying her face, he leaned against the doorframe, supremely relaxed and indecently good-looking.

Jessie noticed that he’d showered and changed, his dark hair slightly spiky from the water, his lean, powerful legs encased in clean, black jeans. An expensive watch glinted from beneath the cuff of his tailored shirt and Jessie wondered idly how much it had cost him.

More than she’d earned in her lifetime.

He looked as sleek and expensive as the apartment he lived in and the car he drove.

But most importantly of all, he was comfortable here. As comfortable as he’d been in the dirty alley. He was able to move between the two worlds without faltering.

Feeling the gulf between them widen, Jessie took a step backwards. Once she’d adored him. But that had been a long time ago. Now she didn’t even know him. ‘Look…’ She cleared her throat. ‘If you could just find me a pair of old jeans or something, that will be fine. Then I can get out of here and leave you to your life.’

Without responding, Silvio opened another cupboard and moments later he pushed several pieces of clothing into her arms. ‘Try these. They should do until we can find you something else.’

Jessie looked down at the soft denim and nodded. ‘This is perfect,’ she said gruffly. ‘I don’t need anything else. I have stuff in my flat.’ The thought of going back there left her cold with fear and he obviously had a similar reaction because his eyes hardened.

‘Give me a list of the things you need and I’ll send someone.’

Jessie shrank inwardly at the thought of anyone seeing how little she owned. ‘There’s no need. I have to go back anyway.’

‘You’re not going back, Jess. For the time being, you’ll be living with me.’

Relief mingled with outrage and she wondered why being with this man triggered such contradictory emotions. ‘Are you planning to keep me locked up here in your fancy bachelor pad just so that they can’t get me?’ Her laugh was high-pitched. ‘That would cramp your style. I can just imagine what your new posh friends would say if they met me.’

‘They’d like you. And if they didn’t like you that would be their problem, not yours.’

Jessie turned away from him, staring into the wardrobe to hide the humiliating glitter of tears that she felt in her eyes. She must be tired, to be this close to crying. ‘I can’t stay here with you. It feels wrong.’ She didn’t add that she felt grubby and out of place. ‘I need to leave now. I have to leave.’ She said the words for her own benefit as much as his, trying to force herself to do the right thing. But nausea churned in her stomach at the thought of leaving. If she walked away from him, she’d be walking away from safety. Did she really want to keep struggling and looking over her shoulder?