Even though she had only been four at the time, Holly remembered the way Franco Morales had charmed her poor, grieving mother a few months after Holly’s father had been killed in a work-place accident. He had taken control of her mother as soon as he’d married her.
At first he had been supportive, taking care of everything so she no longer had to worry about keeping a roof over their heads. He’d even been kind to Holly, buying her toys and sweets. But then things had started to change. He’d begun subjecting her mother to physical and verbal punishment. It had started with the occasional blow-out at first. One-off losses of temper that he would profusely apologise for and then everything would return to normal. Then a week or two would pass and it would happen again. Then it was every week. Then it was every day—twice a day, even.
And then he’d started in on Holly. Insisting she be brought up according to his rules. His regulations. The slaps had begun for supposed disobedience. The back-handers for insolence or often for no reason at all. Holly had got so stressed and wound up by the anticipation of his abuse she would often trigger it so it was out of the way for that day.
Although he’d no longer smacked her once she got a little older, his verbal sprays had worsened as she’d got to her teens. He’d called her filthy names, taunting her with how unattractive she was, how unintelligent she was, how no one would ever want her. All of which had been confirmed when her mother had died. Holly hadn’t known what to do, where to go, how to manage her life. During that awful, anchorless time she had done things she wished she hadn’t and not done things she wished she had. She had mixed with the wrong people for the right reasons and mixed with the right people for the wrong reasons.
But things were going to be different now.
Holly was determined to get her life heading in the right direction. Once this community service was over, she was going to go to England, as far away as possible from her stepfather, back to the country of her mother’s birth.
Then, and only then, would she be free.
* * *
Holly walked back towards the villa via the gardens. There were hectares of them, both formal and informal. There was even a swimming pool set on a sun-drenched terrace that overlooked the fields where some glossy-backed horses were grazing. The summer sun was fiercer now than earlier. The clouds had shifted and the bright light sparkled off the swimming pool like thousands of brilliant diamonds scattered over the surface. She bent down and trailed her fingers in the water to test the temperature. It was deliciously, temptingly cool. Not that she was much of a swimmer, but the thought of cooling off was irresistible.
She glanced at the villa to see if anyone was watching. Not that she cared. If she wanted to have a dip in her underwear who was going to stop her? She kicked off her sandals and shimmied out of her jeans, dropping them in a heap by the pool. She hauled her cotton sweater and the vest top she was wearing under it over her head and sent it in the same direction as her jeans.
Holly stood for a moment as the sun’s rays soaked into her all but naked flesh. She pushed all her thoughts about her bleak childhood out of her head. They were like toxic poison if she allowed them to stay with her too long. Instead, she pretended she was on holiday at an exclusive resort where she had total freedom to do what she wanted.
And then, taking a deep breath, she slipped into the water and let it swallow her into its refreshingly cool and cleansing embrace.
* * *
Julius heard a splash and pushed his chair back from the computer to check who was using the pool. He should’ve guessed and he definitely shouldn’t have looked. Holly was swimming, wearing nothing but what looked like a transparent bikini. Or was it a bikini or just her bra and knickers? He knew he should get away from the window. He even heard the left side of his brain issue the order. But the right side wilfully drank in the sight of her. Lustfully feasted on the vision of her playing like a water sprite. Her lithe limbs and pert breasts with their pink-tipped nipples showing through the thin cotton of her bra tantalised his senses and drove his blood at breakneck speed to his groin. Her wet hair was slicked back and looked as dark as the pelt of a seal. She did a duck dive, and he caught a delicious glimpse of her neat bottom, long legs and thoroughbred-slim ankles. She kicked herself to the bottom of the pool before resurfacing like a dolphin at play. He heard the sound of her tinkling laughter just as she went back down for another dive.
When she came up she had her back to him. He saw the neat play of the muscles of her back and shoulders as she lifted her hair off her neck, using its length to tie it in a makeshift knot on top of her head. She went back under the surface with a splash of her legs and ballerina-like feet.