Unless she decided to spin it out, making the most of his charity.
But why? Angelo couldn’t fathom what she hoped to gain.
The doctor reeled off a series of symptoms to look out for, in which case they should call him immediately. Then there were instructions about pain medication and the need for fluids.
Angelo listened carefully. Alexa Barrett would be well cared for. Hopefully she’d recuperate quickly and leave as soon as transport became available. Or sooner, if he could find alternative accommodation for her on the island.
Yet he had a deep-seated suspicion that it wouldn’t be so easy to get rid of her.
Already she’d wormed her way back into his world, even his home.
The woman he’d vowed never to let near him again.
The woman who’d lied to him and betrayed him.
CHAPTER THREE
ALLYSATINan armchair near the window and stared at the boiling, dark sea.
After almost twenty-four hours she still had to make an effort to think of herself as Ally. But no other name had come to mind and it was better than Alexa, which just sounded wrong.
Or maybe it was the way her host said that name, as if repressing a sneer.
She shivered despite the warmth of the room and wished the rain would stop lashing the windows. Even to step out onto the balcony and draw a breath of salty sea air would be a relief.
All she’d seen was this bedroom and its adjoining bathroom. Partly because she didn’t have the strength to go far with her weak knees and swimmy head, and partly because she hadn’t been invited. She was here under sufferance.
Ally swallowed, forcing down the tangle of emotion that threatened to overwhelm her.
Everything will be all right. You just have to be patient.
She couldn’t be claustrophobic. The suite was spacious and comfortable, with panoramic views of the sea.
Yet she was uneasy, and not just because of her missing memory. At a deep-seated level Ally knew she didn’t belong here.
What sort of house possessed a massive guest suite like this? Everything was the height of luxury. From the huge cloud-soft bed to the beautiful original artwork. From the massive sunken bathtub, complete with gorgeously scented jars of bath salts and oils, to the expensive marble gleaming white with the faintest delicate tracery of pale green.
She knew barely anything about herself but she sensed such opulence, even though tasteful and attractive, was alien to her.
The grounds visible from here reinforced the fact that this was no ordinary house. Despite the storm damage the gardens set high on the clifftop looked superb and the place commanded a spectacular view. She tried to imagine it on a sunny day.
Ally knew southern Italy was famed for its wide blue skies, stunning coastal towns and clear water. How she knew it, she couldn’t say. Just as she couldn’t understand how she knew that the sun rose in the east and set in the west, or that it was sensible to wear a broad-brimmed hat in the middle of summer.
Yet she still couldn’t remember anything useful like her name or where she was from.
He’dsaid she was Australian and, as she clearly wasn’t Italian, perhaps he was right. It was one of the few personal details her close-lipped host had let slip and she’d pounced on it gratefully.
Not that she trusted everything Angelo Ricci said. Far from it. He was biased against her for some reason.
Simply getting his name from him had felt like pulling teeth, one laborious tug at a time. Teeth from a particularly ferocious-looking wolf.
The man unnerved her with his brooding silences and judgemental attitude. As if she’daskedto be washed up on his precious beach!
From here she could see a sliver of pale sand on what Rosetta had explained was the private beach where she’d been found unconscious. Rosetta the housekeeper who, like her employer, didn’t seem happy to have her here. She’d been polite, and the food she brought was delicious, but there’d been no generous smiles or warm welcome.
Ally frowned. She’d thought Italians were renowned for their hospitality. Or was that wishful thinking?
Her thoughts circled back inevitably.