On the rack in the entrance porch was a pair of funky black boots with thick soles she hadn’t seen before. Surely Melissa wouldn’t mind her borrowing them. That was the best thing about living with her sister; they were the same dress and shoe size.
She locked the front door and treaded carefully down the steps. Finally luck was on her side—a vacant black cab drove up her street within a minute.
She got the driver to drop her off across the road from the futuristic skyscraper near Tower Bridge from where Stefano ran his European operations. As Anna waited at the pedestrian crossing next to the road heaving with traffic, a shiny stretched black Mercedes pulled up outside the front of the building. A doorman opened the back door, and out came Stefano.
The green light flashed and, working on autopilot, she crossed the road, her eyes focused on Stefano rather than where she was walking.
A tall blonde woman got out of the car behind him. Anna didn’t recognise her but there was something familiar about her face that made it feel as if nails clawed into her already tender stomach.
A briefcase whacked her in the back and, startled, Anna realised she’d come to a stop in the middle of the road, dozens of other pedestrians jostling around her, some swearing.
Clutching a hand to her stomach to stem the surging rise of nausea, she forced her leaden legs to work and managed to make it to the pavement without being knocked over.
She went through the revolving doors of the building itself, put her bag on the scanner, waited for it to be cleared, then went straight to the bathroom, into the first empty cubicle, and vomited.
Cold perspiration breaking out all over, she knew she was an idiot to have come in. Her hangover—was it a hangover? She’d never felt anything like this—was, if that was possible, getting worse.
Out of the cubicle, after she’d washed her hands and swirled cold water in her mouth, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror.
She looked awful. Her face was white as a sheet, her dark hair lank around her shoulders…
She did a double take. Had her hair grown?
After popping a mint in her mouth, she inched her way around the walls to the elevator. Two men and a woman she vaguely recognised were getting into it, chatting amiably. She slid in with them before the doors closed.
She punched the button for the thirtieth floor and held onto the railing as it began the smooth ride up.
All talk had stopped. She could feel their eyes on her. Did she really look so bad that she’d become a conversation stopper? It was a relief when they got out on the floor below her.
A gaggle of secretaries and administrators worked in the open space in front of the office Anna shared with Stefano. They all turned their heads to stare at her. A couple were open-mouthed.
Did they have to make it so obvious that she looked this awful? All the same, she managed to get her mouth working enough to smile a greeting. Not one of them responded.
She looked around for Chloe, her newly appointed fresh-faced PA who cowered in terror every time Stefano made an appearance. Poor Chloe would not be happy to know she’d have to take on Anna’s duties for the day.
Anna hadn’t wanted a PA of her own. She was a PA! But Stefano had thrown so many responsibilities her way in the year and a half since he’d poached her from Levon Brothers that when he’d caught her working at nine in the evening, he’d put his foot down and insisted on hiring someone for her.
‘Do I get a new job title?’ she’d cheekily asked, and been rewarded with a promotion to Executive PA and a hefty pay rise.
Maybe Chloe was cowering in the stationery cupboard, waiting for her arrival so she could hide behind her. The girl would get used to Stefano soon enough. Anna had seen it with most other employees. It was that mixture of awe and fear he inspired that curdled the stomach, but eventually the curdling settled and one could hold a coherent conversation with him.
Anna had skipped all these stages herself but had seen the effect Stefano had on others too many times not to sympathise with it. He inspired terror and hero-worship in equal measure.
She let the office door shut behind her and came to an abrupt halt. For a moment she forgot all about her pounding head and nauseous stomach.
When Stefano had offered her the job and she’d learned it entailed sharing an office with him, she’d said on a whim that she would only do it if he decorated her side in shades of plum. Her memories of her first day working for him were ones of laughter, when she’d walked into the sprawling office and found one half painted a functional cream, the other varying shades of plum.
Today the whole office was cream.
She’d just reached her desk when the door flew open, and Stefano stood there, as dark and menacing as she’d ever seen him.
Before she could ask if he’d had an army of decorators in overnight, he slammed the door shut and folded his arms across his broad chest.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘Not you too,’ she groaned, half in exasperation and half in pain. ‘I think I had a fall. I know I look awful but can’t you pretend I look like my usual supermodel self?’
It had become one of those long-running jokes between them. Every time Stefano tried to cajole her into coming on a date with him, Anna would make some cutting remark, usually followed by a reminder that his preferred