6
Come what come may, time and the hour runs through the roughest day
– Macbeth
Sam felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him. He’d been travelling since yesterday, catching a flight first to Heathrow and then connecting to Milan. On the first leg he’d been hounded by reporters, stalking him through the airport, taking pictures and shouting questions. By the time security had ushered him onto his final flight, he’d felt all the energy seep out of him. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to face going through the circus again when he arrived in Italy, but a combination of good luck and the late hour allowed him to leave the airport without being spotted.
His PA had arranged for a car to be delivered to the airport. A zippy little Ferrari that cleared the distance between Milan and Varenna in the blink of an eye. Sam had put his foot down, enjoying the open roads, so different to the gridlock that always seemed to surround LA. He’d been in a great mood all the way up to the gate, when he’d keyed in his code but the damn thing had refused to open. In spite of buzzing the house, he’d had no response, having to resort to using the air horn to get some attention.
And now, finally, he had managed to step inside, only to find this girl staring at him accusingly, as if he’d committed a monstrous crime.
‘You . . . ’ The girl hesitated, still frowning. ‘You don’t know me?’ She sounded insulted.
He looked her up and down, trying to gauge her by the light of the moon and the headlamps. She was small, maybe five foot or so, with warm blonde hair she’d twisted into a knot at the top of her head. Wearing a short, floaty skirt and skimpy vest top, her skin was glistening and smooth. Her body might be gorgeous but currently her face was anything but. Her expression was twisted with anger.
What the hell was up with her?
‘Why would I know you? I’ve never seen you before. I’m just here at my family’s villa to spend a few days away from it all. I wasn’t expecting a fan club.’ He flashed her a smile again, hoping it would calm her down. ‘Though fans are always welcome, of course.’
‘Oh, you’re still full of yourself as ever.’ The girl gave a short laugh. ‘They promised me you wouldn’t be here, they expressly told me you were in Hollywood. I wouldn’t have come if I’d known you’d be arriving.’
Sam narrowed his eyes. That wasn’t exactly the response he’d been expecting, and it definitely wasn’t what he was used to. He rarely met attractive women who weren’t either interested or at least friendly to him. ‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. I’m not full of myself, I’m just trying to get into my house and get some sleep. If you want to shout at me for even existing, then fine, but could you at least save it for morning?’
From the corner of his eye he could see the girl curl her hands into fists. For the first time since he’d arrived on Italian soil, he began to feel anxious. What if she was some kind of deluded psycho fan that he’d somehow managed to piss off?
What was it with women this week? If they weren’t betraying him, they were stalking him. Jesus.
‘So you’re not the guy who runs out and leaves everybody behind to clear up his messes, while he flounces off into the distance?’
Sam’s back stiffened. Did she know what had happened between him and Serena Sloane? Christ, he couldn’t escape
it no matter where he went.
‘Who are you anyway?’ He repeated his question of a few minutes earlier. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Why should I tell you?’ She folded her arms across her chest. ‘You clearly couldn’t care less about who I am. I’m just a bit player in the Sam Carlton show, aren’t I?’
He put his hands on his hips, scrutinising her. She was English, her London accent was enough to give that away. Maybe in her early twenties, though the light was bad and he couldn’t quite pinpoint her age. Closer up, he could see her bronzed skin was pebbled with freckles, making a cute line across her nose and cheeks. She looked wholesome, pretty. Even attractive – if it weren’t for the fact that she was clearly completely crazy.
‘Have I done something to upset you?’ he asked her, giving that smile a final go. Third time lucky, right?
Wrong.
She threw her hands up in the air. ‘What do you think? I’m not some kind of crazy woman who shouts at every stranger that walks through the gate, you know.’
Sam bit his lip to swallow down a sharp retort. ‘That’s exactly what you sound like.’
‘You really don’t remember me?’
He stared at her again, trying to place her face. If he was honest, there was a tiny bit of familiarity that tugged at him, but for the life of him he couldn’t place her. Had she been at his school, or was she an extra in a movie he’d made? Damned if he knew.
‘I meet a lot of people and I’m useless with faces. I’m sorry, I don’t know you at all.’
‘Typical.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Somebody ruins your life and they can’t even be bothered to remember who you are.’
Wow, that was sharp. Sam’s head snapped back at the force of her words. He couldn’t remember the last time a girl had looked at him with such hatred.
‘I ruined your life?’ He was incredulous. ‘Funnily enough I don’t remember doing that. You’d think if I’d been a real asshole I’d be unable to forget it.’ Was he being set up? He craned his head around, looking for signs of other people, of cameras. Maybe she was planning to sell her story, too.