The Italian's Final Redemption - Jackie Ashenden Page 0,22

around her waist with a long red sash. The housekeeper stepped back, gave Lucy a satisfied look, then, holding Lucy’s dress between one thumb and forefinger, as if it were something nasty she’d picked up after her dog, she went through the door and closed it behind her.

Well, that was interesting.

Lucy took a breath, looking down at herself again. It appeared that she was wrapped in the most gorgeous Chinese robe made out of thick, brilliant red silk and embroidered all over with gold dragons.

Clothes hadn’t ever interested her, mainly because she had no one to dress for. She’d never cared about her appearance, didn’t even think about it. But there was something...cool and delicious about the feeling of the silk against her skin.

Not sure what else to do, she poked around the room, picking various things up and examining them before putting them back down. And when she’d examined everything thoroughly, she went into the bathroom and examined that too.

The shower was vast and, since the journey had been a long one, she decided a shower was in order. Half an hour later, feeling better than she had in the past twenty-four hours, or even longer than that, she towelled herself dry and then considered her dirty underwear. She didn’t really want to put it back on, so she didn’t, wrapping herself up in the red silk dressing gown again and wandering out into the bedroom.

De Santi had mentioned something about a late dinner, which meant she had a bit of time beforehand, judging from the light outside the window. She stared at the door for a moment, then crossed over to it and gingerly tried the handle, expecting it to be locked.

It turned easily.

A wave of some emotion she couldn’t identify washed through her. So she wasn’t locked in, the way she was at home. He’d genuinely meant what he said when he’d told her she was free to wander.

Lucy stepped back from the door, the knot inside her almost coming undone. Then she turned and went over to the bed, got onto it and lay back, curling up on the white quilt. She felt tired, and now she knew the door wasn’t locked the urge to get out and explore had left her for the moment. She closed her eyes instead, only for a second.

At least, it should have been a second.

When she opened her eyes again the light had changed, long streaks of twilight painting the white walls in vivid pinks and reds and oranges. She lay there a second, getting her bearings, remembering where she was and what was happening. Then she slipped off the bed.

She felt hungry now and ready to eat, so she went into the bathroom to get her underwear, looking around to see if Martina had brought her dress back. But not only had the dress not been returned, her underwear had gone too.

Lucy frowned, wrapping the silk robe more tightly around her. Annoying. She felt underdressed wearing only a dressing gown with nothing underneath it. There was nothing to be done about it, however, and, left with little choice, she eventually had to venture out of the bedroom wearing only the robe belted tightly at her waist.

The house was quiet and she encountered no one as she retraced the route Martina had led her on earlier, back into the big white lounge and out to the stone terrace again. It was beautiful in the twilight, the white stone glowing, the view framed by ancient olive trees, the table set for dinner.

Lucy stared at the table for a second, her chest feeling a little tight. There were candles and a white tablecloth and pretty wine glasses. It looked special. Not like a table set for a criminal and a prisoner.

Was this his doing? Or his staff? Did they know who she was? Perhaps they thought she was his girlfriend or his lover...

The tightness inside her twisted, making her feel hot. Disturbed, she turned away from the table and went to the edge of the terrace bounded by a low stone parapet. She sat down on it and looked out over the sea, taking in the amazing view.

There were so many boats, yachts with white sails and launches creating wakes, big super-yachts—floating palaces for the rich and famous—and smaller fishing boats. She imagined being on one and heading out to sea towards the setting sun, leaving everything behind to disappear over the edge of the horizon...

Maybe that would be her one day,