Happy Mother's Day! - By Sharon Kendrick Page 0,15
car without asking—but it wouldn’t be the first rule of etiquette she’d broken. Sleeping with the boss without him ever having taken her on a date was right up there with the major social no-nos.
It might be completely out of character, but so what? Things couldn’t really get much worse. Her contract with Palladio’s would inevitably be over after this—so what did she have to lose? And what the hell would Suzy, her partner, have to say about that?
Her cheeks burning with remorse, Aisling crept back into Gianluca’s bedroom, breathing a sigh of relief as she located his car keys in the back pocket of his discarded jeans and carefully extracted them—and still he slept on.
She stole towards the front door and her heart pounded with guilt and she quietly took from her bag a pen and a postcard of the Trevi fountain, which she’d never got around to posting. Silently, she wrote: ‘I’ve borrowed your car—will leave it at your office.’
And then she hesitated. How should she end it? Love Aisling?
No.
Just her name, then?
No. Just stick to facts and fade away into the dawn. Propping the note onto a small table, she gave a wry smile. Why, he might even thank her for it. They would both be spared the embarrassment of the morning after. The long, shared journey back to the city, heavy with awkward silences. Not that she’d ever had a one-night stand—but from everything she’d read, she knew it wasn’t the best way to earn his respect or admiration.
But it wasn’t until she was out on the open road, being guided by the rather spooky robotic female voice of the satnav system and heading towards Rome that she dared to put her foot down, her heart sinking with the horror of what she’d done as the sun began to rise high over the Umbrian hills.
CHAPTER FOUR
AISLING’S head pounded.
Unsteadily, she rose from her chair to close the blinds in her office, and the unanswerable question spun round and round in her head like dirty water whirling down the plug-hole.
Oh, what had she done?
Nearly a month had elapsed since she had woken up in Gianluca’s bed—or rather on Gianluca’s bed, she corrected herself, and flinched. There was no point in giving the incident an air of respectability which it certainly didn’t merit. Saying that they had been in bed might have implied that there’d been a little forethought about that wild bout of sex, instead of the stark and unpalatable truth.
That she’d had a one-night stand with a client!
Aisling’s palms felt clammy as she sat down at her desk once more.
What kind of a woman did that? Risking everything she’d worked so hard for. Especially a woman who had known real poverty when she was growing up—who had learnt the hard way that you couldn’t rely on anyone except yourself to earn a living.
Her mother had always put men before everything—even her daughter. Janie Armstrong had sacrificed everything in her futile search for love. Jobs had gone by the wayside and she and Aisling had moved around the country—relocating at the drop of a hat if there was some promise of emotional happiness, which had never seemed to materialise.
Time after time, Aisling had seen her mother let down by a man—and time after time she had repeated the same needy and dependent behaviour which had seemed to drive the men further away. As her beauty had faded, so had the opportunities—and that had bred a new desperation.
Aisling had vowed to be different. That was the reason she had slaved away to establish her business, why she had put her social life on hold, working long hours to build up her small but thriving firm which now employed three people. A firm she had been so proud of—but which must now surely be threatened by a single act of madness?
How terrifying it was to discover this dark and unknown side to her character. Maybe she carried more of her mother’s traits than she had previously imagined.
After leaving Gianluca’s vineyard, Aisling had caught the London-bound flight from Rome airport with minutes to spare. She’d left Gianluca’s car in the underground car park of the Palladio Corporation, deposited the car keys with his bemused secretary and walked out with a feeling of terrible remorse making her cheeks sting pink.
Next there had been Jason to face—and that had been Aisling’s first real test of mental determination. How much was it permissible to pretend when facing your young assistant, to whom you were