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Mistress at the Italian's Command
MELANIE MILBURNE



About the Author
MELANIE MILBURNE I am married to a surgeon, Steve, and have two gorgeous sons, Paul and Phil. I live in Hobart, Tasmania, where I enjoy an active life as a long-distance runner and a nationally ranked top ten Master’s swimmer. I also have a Master’s Degree in Education, but my children totally turned me off the idea of teaching! When not running or swimming I write, and when I’m not doing all of the above I’m reading. And if someone could invent a way for me to read during a four-kilometre swim I’d be even happier!’

Mistress at the Italian’s Command
Melanie Milburne


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Dear Reader,
When I was approached to write a novella for Mills & Boon’s Centenary, I was absolutely delighted. As usual ideas were rushing about my head but the one I kept coming back to was particularly close to my heart at the time so I thought I would concentrate on Alice and Vittorio’s story. I am like most writers in that I start with a sentence or premise. This one was: What if you had to step into your twin sister’s shoes without knowing where on earth she had been walking in them and with whom? Scary thought, right? I have enough trouble keep tracking of my own movements let alone someone else’s! But the gorgeously brooding Vittorio Vassallo was, from the start, a wonderful hero to work with and, of course, the adorably shy and reticent Ally was equally engaging, and of all my heroes and heroines I felt they truly deserved to have their happy ever after.
Thank you dear readers for supporting all the authors, editors and administrative staff who work tirelessly to bring you the very best of romantic fiction for women. The success of Mills & Boon is after all due to you.
With warm wishes,
Melanie Milburne
xx
Dedicated to all the wonderful readers of Mills & Boon who by reading our books so
enthusiastically and faithfully over the last one hundred years have made M&B the world’s
leading publisher of romantic fiction. Thank you!

CHAPTER ONE
‘MISS ALICE BENTON?’ The Italian psychiatrist took Ally to one side, speaking in a grave, heavily accented tone. ‘Do you have any idea how long your sister has been off her medication?’
Ally swallowed against the dry lump of anguish in her throat. ‘I’m really not sure,’ she said. ‘I don’t live in Italy with my sister. I live in Australia.’
‘Then you did well to get here so soon.’ He looked down at the notes and added, ‘She was only brought in yesterday morning by her neighbour.’
‘I had a business meeting in Prague,’ Ally explained. ‘I flew from there as soon as I could. I had no idea she’d had such a bad relapse. She hasn’t had one in years. She was fine when I spoke to her from Sydney before I left for my trip. I can’t believe—’ she choked over a sob ‘—she would do something like this. She seemed so… so well…’
‘This was a very serious suicide attempt,’ Dr Bassano said with a sober look. ‘She was lucky to survive such a high dosage of benzoates. I suggest that until she is stabilised on her regular dosage of antipsychotic medication that she be admitted to a mental health clinic and stay there until she receives the therapy and rehabilitation she needs. I should warn you, however, it could take considerable time.’
‘I see…’ Ally said, feeling her stomach sink even lower in despair. She had desperately hoped the frightening see-sawing periods of mania and dark depression her sister had suffered ever since she was fifteen had finally disappeared, but it seemed they had not. What on earth had happened in her sister’s life to bring on such a devastating relapse?
‘There is a clinic in Switzerland that has a very good reputation.’ Dr Bassano interrupted the painful torture of Ally’s thoughts. ‘It is a private clinic, but well worth the expense. The staff are all highly trained and very empathetic.’
Ally moistened her parched lips with the tip of her tongue. ‘But can’t I take her back to Sydney with me?’ she asked. ‘Surely it would be better for her to be back home? She’s been abroad for almost a year. Perhaps that’s what’s caused this… this… crisis.’
‘Miss Benton, I do not think your sister is in any fit state to endure a long-haul flight,’ he said. ‘In my opinion it would do more harm than good. She is unstable, and I suspect has been so for quite some time. The Swiss clinic is only a short flight or train journey away. We can arrange for a health professional to accompany both of you to settle her in.’
Ally compressed her lips to keep her panic contained. ‘H-how long do you think she will need to be at this clinic you have recommended?’ she asked.
‘It takes time for the medication to kick in again, sometimes several weeks,’ he paused, then went on gravely. ‘In more difficult cases maybe even months, especially if a drug change is indicated, which I suspect in your sister’s case is indeed warranted. There are several new medications on the market now that specifically target her condition. It would be worth a few weeks of trialling one or two of them in a safe environment to see which is most efficacious.’
Ally looked at the specialist in alarm. She only had a couple of weeks’ leave. She had been so looking forward to the holiday she had planned with her sister. She had never for a moment imagined it would turn into such a nightmare as this. There had been no warning, no sign of anything untoward during any of their recent phone conversations or e-mails. Admittedly her sister had sounded overly excited recently, but Ally had put it down to the anticipation of spending two weeks relaxing in the sun together. She hadn’t dared think of any other explanation. Alex’s troubled past had been filed away in Ally’s head; the door was not locked but it was certainly not ajar, as it had been for so long during their adolescence and early adult years.
Alex had done some terribly impulsive things during her various manic stages, and Ally was still trying to clear the debt of some of the mad spending sprees her twin had gone on in the past. Her sister’s disastrous marriage to Darren Sharpe had been the lowest point. It had taken Ally months to convince her twin to leave her abusive husband, and even longer to rebuild her battered self-esteem once the divorce was finalised.
‘I think Alex will do quite well once this crisis is over, but it is important that over the next few weeks she is kept away from any stressful situations,’ Dr Bassano said. ‘Stress at this point in time will only intensify her condition and perhaps cause another relapse. I have been in contact with her specialist in Sydney. I see from her records she has already had three major breakdowns during her teens. I would like to avoid triggering another one.’
‘I understand,’ Ally said, fighting back tears.
Dr Bassano took Ally’s hand. ‘I realise how difficult this is for you, Miss Benton,’ he said. ‘I understand you have been responsible for your sister since your mother’s death. You have done an amazing job of supporting her thus far. You must not blame yourself for this latest relapse. It is always hard for close relatives. You cannot possibly be with her every minute of the day. You have your own life to lead and must be allowed to do so.’
Ally blinked back the moisture in her eyes. ‘Thank y-you,’ she said, her voice catching slightly. ‘I don’t want to lose her… she is all I have…’
‘Take care of yourself,’ Dr Bassano said gently. ‘Your sister is still sleeping, but should wake in the next hour or so. Please call me at any time if you have any further questions.’
Ally went back to her sister’s bedside and looked down at the pale, thin and wan mirror image of herself, curled up like a helpless infant on the narrow bed.
How could two identical people be so dissimilar? she wondered. Alex had always been the outgoing one, the extroverted talkative one, the girl men flocked to like bees around nectar-laden blossom.
Ally, on the other hand, had always preferred her own company to that of other people. With the same figure and features of her twin, she had her fair share of male attention, but no one had come close enough for her to let down the guard around her heart. The emotional blunting in her childhood had seen to that. Living with an unpredictable mother had made Ally naturally cautious. She found it hard to trust people and kept herself aloof and on guard—unlike her twin who, like their mother, often leapt in feet first with little regard for the consequences.
The sheets on the bed rustled and a croaky voice asked, ‘Ally… is that you?’
Ally leaned forward and took her sister’s hands in hers, squeezing them gently. ‘Yes, darling, it’s me. I came as soon as I could.’
‘I’m sorry…’ Alex’s face began to crumple. ‘I’ve really done it this time. You’re going to hate me… I just know it… I’ve ruined everything…’
‘No, darling, don’t talk like that,’ Ally soothed, still desperately trying not to cry. ‘I could never hate you. You know I would do anything to make you well again.’
‘He told me he loved me…’ Alex said, so softly Ally had trouble hearing her.
She leaned even closer. ‘Who told you he loved you?’
Alex’s eyes closed and a soft whimper escaped from her lips. ‘I don’t want to talk about it… it hurts so much…’
Ally stroked her sister’s hand. ‘Don’t upset yourself, honey. We can talk later. The important thing now is to get well. That’s all that matters.’
‘The doctor said I have to go to a clinic,’ Alex said, biting her lip like a small, insecure child.
‘Yes, it will be for the best,’ Ally said. ‘Don’t worry about the expense. I’ll see to it.’
Tears sprouted from Alex’s eyes. ‘I wanted to die… I felt that if I couldn’t have him what would be the point in going on?’
Ally felt yet again the tight fist of panic knocking hard on the door of her heart. The doctor had warned her not to allow her twin to suffer any unnecessary stress, but clearly something had been going on with a man while Alex had been living abroad.
‘Honey, you should have told me you were having trouble coping,’ Ally said gently. ‘I thought everything was going so well for you since you moved to London.’
Alex’s sapphire-blue gaze shifted to stare blankly at the hem of the sheet covering her chest. ‘I didn’t want to tell you because I knew you’d disapprove.’
‘Why would I do that, darling?’ Ally asked, although deep down she felt sure she already knew the answer.
‘He’s married,’ Alex said, confirming Ally’s suspicions. ‘I didn’t realise that until I’d thrown in my job and followed him to Rome. He told me he loved me. He even told me he was going to leave his wife. But it was all a lie…’
Ally inwardly sighed. She needed more than her fingers and toes to count the number of affairs with married men her sister had been involved in over the years. Alex seemed to misread the signals, or something. She was so easily taken in by a charming smile and ended up disappointed and betrayed time and time again. But this one seemed to have had a much more devastating effect, and Ally wished she could press for more details. But she knew it would probably do more harm than good at this point.
‘When did you stop taking your tablets?’ she asked, diverting the subject.
Alex closed her eyes. ‘I don’t remember… a few weeks ago, I think. I didn’t want him to know I was taking medication. I thought he wouldn’t love me if he thought I wasn’t… you know… normal.’
‘Alex you are normal,’ Ally insisted. ‘If you had asthma or diabetes you’d have to take regular medication. How is your mental condition any different?’
Alex’s eyes remained closed. ‘But I feel crazy. My head is full of racing thoughts. I feel out of control, and that’s why…’ She gave another defeated sigh. ‘What’s the point? What’s done is done.’
‘Darling, remember the doctors back home told you how important it is for you take your tablets regularly?’ Ally said, trying to remain patient and calm. ‘This time in the clinic will be just the thing for you. You’ll be able to get on top of things, both medically and personally.’
Alex turned her head back to look at Ally. ‘Do you really still love me, Ally? Even after all I’ve put you through? I’m a terrible person. I hate myself. I can’t do anything right. I ruin everything.’
‘That’s rubbish, Alex, and you know it,’ Ally said. ‘You’ll come through this. I know you will. You know I love you, and nothing can change that. You and me together against the world, right?’
Alex bit her lower lip and shifted her gaze again. ‘I don’t really want to end up like Mum… but I just can’t seem to help it. It must be genetic—but then you have the same genes and you’re fine…’
Ally pushed aside the giant wave of survival guilt that instantly swamped her, and grasped her sister’s hand again. ‘Mum didn’t get the help she needed,’ she said. ‘She was sick for a long time, but we were too young to realise it. Her up-and-down moods and her erratic behaviour seemed a part of who she was. There’s a fine line between personality and mental illness, Alex. It’s hard even for the professionals to know when patients cross it.’
Alex turned her head on the pillow to look at her. ‘I’ve done some terrible things,’ she said, her eyes swelling with tears. ‘I just couldn’t seem to stop myself. I wanted to get back at Rocco for… for everything…’
‘Rocco was the man you were having an affair with?’ Ally asked, trying to string the pieces together without pushing too hard.
Alex’s eyes welled again with tears and her bottom lip began to tremble uncontrollably. ‘I can’t talk about it… I just can’t…’
Ally stroked her sister’s hand. ‘That’s fine, honey. I understand. We’ll leave it for another time, when you’re feeling better.’
Alex let out a defeated sigh and closed her eyes wearily. ‘I’ll go to the clinic,’ she said. ‘I want to get well. I can’t go on like this. I know I’ve been a dreadful burden for you in the past. I wanted to make you proud of me, living independently and working abroad. I thought I could do it. But… but I guess this is my last chance to put things right.’
‘Darling it’s not your last chance. There is no such thing as last chances,’ Ally said, pressing a tender kiss to her twin’s forehead. ‘Besides, what if the shoe was on the other foot?’
Alex opened one bleary eye to look at her. ‘What do you mean?’
‘We’re identical twins,’ Ally said. ‘Like you said before, we share exactly the same DNA but by chance you have developed an illness that needs carefully managed treatment. It could just as easily be me in that bed, not you.’
Alex opened both of her dark blue eyes and looked at her sister with gravitas. ‘You should be thanking God you don’t have to step into my shoes,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t wish my life on anyone, not after what I’ve done. I feel so… so guilty.’
‘I don’t have to step into your shoes to understand what you are going through,’ Ally said. ‘But let me tell you if I had to I would do it, and do it gladly.’
Alex attempted a smile, but it was a bit crooked and tinged with aching sadness. ‘Just as well we’re the same size, then, huh?’

CHAPTER TWO
ALLY had not long returned to Rome from her trip, having settled her twin sister into the quiet sanctuary of the clinic in Switzerland, when the doorbell of her sister’s rented apartment sounded. She had come back there to do a rudimentary clean-up, knowing Alex would be out of town for possibly weeks if not months on end, and had decided a refrigerator clean-out was probably a good idea, not to mention a load or two of washing and a bed linen change before she arranged to travel back to Zurich.
What she hadn’t expected to find was a rather nasty eviction notice and a demand for six weeks’ rent in arrears, with a letter written in Italian that looked as if it was from a lawyer. But what Ally couldn’t understand was why her sister had neglected to pay the rent, for as she was folding Alex’s clothes in the bedroom she had come across a large amount of money, tied in neat bundles and placed inside a jacket pocket. Uncertain of what to do with such a sum, Ally had placed it in her handbag until she could consult her sister.
The doorbell rang again, this time with a little more force, so Ally pushed the papers and the rest of her sister’s unpaid bills to one side and, giving the newly made-up bed a quick straighten, made her way to the front door. She opened it to find a tall, dark-haired man standing there, his stance autocratic and his gaze very determined as it locked down on hers.
‘Mrs Alexandra Sharpe?’
Ally stared back at the bottomless brown eyes boring down into hers and felt a shiver of apprehension shimmy up her spine. ‘Look… if it’s about the rent I can explain—’
He slanted one dark eyebrow at her. ‘Don’t tell me you have forgotten me already?’ he said. ‘I know we only met the once, but surely I am not that forgettable?’
‘Um… I… Um…’ Ally was at a loss for words.
‘Perhaps I should refresh your memory?’ he said with a contemptuous set to his mouth. ‘You gate-crashed a business function my brother-in-law Rocco Montano and I attended three weeks ago. Your behaviour created quite a stir. Had I known then what I know now I would have personally evicted you from the premises, instead of engaging Security to do it for me.’
Ally stared at him with wide eyes. She wasn’t sure if she should tell him who she was or go along with his assumption that she was Alex. She suddenly felt as if she was on a set of delicately balanced scales. A tilt one way could clear away the confusion; the other could cause catastrophic results…
Or would it?
Once the thought had blossomed in her brain she couldn’t quite get rid of it. Had Alex ever mentioned to her lover about having an identical twin? she wondered.
She stared at the man’s classically handsome features as her heart did a hopscotch routine in her chest. ‘You seem sort of vaguely familiar,’ she said, to fill the silence.
‘May I come in?’ he asked, although Ally felt it was more of a command than a request.
She opened the door and he moved past her before she could balance the scales of reason in her scrambled brain.
He was very tall, towering over her five foot eight height, and he had long legs and broad shoulders which were a perfect hanger for the Italian designed suit he was wearing. His neither long nor short casually styled black hair was as glossy as a raven’s wing, brushed backwards—although not willingly, it seemed, as a thick strand seemed to fall forward across his forehead almost every time he moved. One of his hands moved upwards to shove it back, the action so automatic Ally couldn’t help feeling it was almost unconscious. He probably did it a hundred times a day and didn’t realise.
His eyes were a brownish black, fringed with thick sooty lashes that acted like a screen over his fathomless gaze as it collided with hers. He was the most strikingly handsome man she had ever met. He exuded power and male potency from every olive-toned pore of his body. His mouth was full and sensual, his blade of a nose distinctly Roman. However, his strongly chiselled jaw had a hint of stubborn arrogance about it, as if he liked his own way and did everything he could to achieve it.
‘My name, in case you have forgotten, is Vittorio Vassallo,’ he said. ‘But I think I do not need to tell you why I am here, sì?’
Ally felt her skin involuntarily tighten at the sound of that deep velvet-toned voice, its clear-cut diction indicating English was not his preferred tongue even though he spoke it fluently, as if he had been educated abroad. Oxford or Cambridge, she guessed. His name rang a tiny bell at the back of her brain. On the flight over from Sydney she had read an article about a high-flying Italian billionaire fund manager who had a reputation as an international playboy. Looking at him now, Ally could see why women all over the world fell over themselves to be his mistress.
‘Um… now is not really a good time…’ she faltered.
He hooked one dark brow upwards in a derisory arc. ‘You have another commitment right now?’
She rolled her lips together before moistening them with the tip of her tongue. ‘Um… no, but I don’t see what possible reason you could have for being here.’
‘Do you not?’ The dark brow was still slanted upwards, the black-brown gaze unwavering as it held hers.
Ally knew she should probably tell him who she was. Now was the time, before things went any further, but for some reason she felt compelled to find out why he was here before she revealed her identity. She wanted to know what he had planned to say to her sister. What would it hurt to step into her sister’s shoes for the next few minutes? Besides, his imperious stance annoyed her. He was looking down at her as if she was a guttersnipe, and that really irked her. Her sister was suffering a mental illness. She did not deserve to be ridiculed or threatened, or at least not while Ally could prevent it. Besides, she wanted to know if he knew what had gone on between his brother-in-law and Alex, and it seemed this was as good a way as any.
‘I have no idea why you are here,’ she said, in a deliberately haughty tone.
A mocking smile tilted his mouth. ‘Rocco warned me you liked to play the dumb blonde role,’ he said. ‘But that is how you get men to do what you want, is it not? You woo them with those dark blue bedroom eyes and that delectable body of yours. No wonder you have the reputation you have. Few men would be able to resist what you have on offer.’
Ally felt a tinge of pink seep into her cheeks. It was almost laughable, the picture he had painted of her, but she let the charade continue a little longer. She figured it would be worth it to eventually throw his misplaced assumptions back in his supercilious face. She was even starting to enjoy herself. What a shock he would get when he found out he had singled out the wrong target for his disgusting vilification.
She tilted her hip in a provocative fashion and batted her eyelashes at him. ‘So what do you think I have on offer, Mr Vassallo?’ she asked.
She watched as his dark and disconcertingly penetrating gaze roved her form from head to foot, slowly, deliberately lingering over the baby blue top that snugly outlined the curves of her breasts, going down over her trim waist and slim jean-clad thighs before returning to her face, all without saying a single word.
Ally had never felt more acutely aware of her body. She felt as if he had reached out and touched her all over with his long tanned fingers. Every curve, every pleasure point and every secret place felt invaded by his commanding physical presence. Every fine hair on her body lifted, and her skin crawled with a prickly sensation. Her stomach began to dip and dive erratically as her senses were set alight by the slow burn of his dark gaze as it drifted over her in that annoyingly indolent fashion. Her breasts started to swell and tingle beneath the light cotton of her top, and her breathing was choppy, her chest rising and falling like a damaged set of bellows, making her feel lightheaded and terrifyingly out of her depth.
She suddenly realised there was a photograph on the wall unit behind him. If he turned around he would see how he was being played for a fool. It was one she had given her sister after their twenty-fourth birthday last year, just before Alex had flown to London. Ally had set the camera on remote control and captured them smiling, with their arms wrapped around each other. She remembered Alex had commented at the time how they must have done exactly that in their mother’s womb, curled up like little angels waiting to be summoned to earth. It had been such a happy night of celebrating, just the two of them. Ally had thought back then—was it only a few months ago?—that her sister was finally on the road to recovery.
Her upper lip broke out in tiny beads of perspiration; she could feel nervous moisture trickling down between her shoulderblades as the silence stretched and stretched like a crevasse being prised apart with giant mechanical jaws.
‘Um… would you like a drink?’ She said the first thing that popped into her mind.
His brows moved together and he cocked his head at a suspicious angle. ‘A drink?’
‘Yes,’ she said over-brightly, carefully back-stepping towards the kitchen, hoping he would take the hint and follow her. ‘I was just about to get one myself. It’s very hot for September, don’t you think?’
‘It is usually still quite hot at this time of year,’ he answered, still watching her closely. ‘It will not cool down for another week or two at the very least.’
Ally went to the meagre pantry and took out a container of long-life orange juice, trying to control the slight tremble of her hands as she did so. ‘I’m sorry I don’t have any ice,’ she said, turning to face him again. ‘I’ve just been cleaning out the fridge.’
His dark eyes were like twin drills as they bored into hers. ‘Are you going away somewhere?’
She pasted a tight smile on her face. ‘I’m just doing a bit of a spring clean—out with the old and in with the new, that sort of thing.’
Ally watched as his eyes swept over the small galley kitchen with its tired appliances. ‘Have you lived in this apartment long?’ he asked, bringing his gaze back to hers.
‘Er… a few weeks,’ she said, shifting her gaze to pour two glasses of juice. Some of it, in spite of her efforts to control the tremble of her hands, splashed onto the bench. ‘I’d like to move to something a little more convenient, but rents are high in the nicer areas.’ She handed him a glass of juice. ‘Would you excuse me for a moment? I think I can hear one of the taps dripping in the bathroom. It does that now and again.’
‘Would you like me to fix it for you?’
Ally stared at him in thinly disguised horror. Of all the things he could have said, that was the last she had expected. He was a billionaire. He probably wouldn’t recognise a spanner or a wrench if he was hit over the head with one. But then he wasn’t a plumber any more than she had a leaky tap, she reminded herself wryly. ‘Er… no, there’s really nothing wrong with it,’ she said, trying not to sound as flustered as she felt. ‘It’s just that I didn’t turn if off hard enough when I heard the doorbell. I won’t be a minute.’
Vittorio took a sip of the room-temperature reconstituted orange juice and grimaced. He thought longingly of his own orange groves on the hills behind his Positano holiday villa, where his housekeeper squeezed fresh fruit daily when he was in residence.
He put the glass down on the chipped counter and cast his gaze around once more. It was no wonder Alex Sharpe was looking for a meal ticket. Her flat was tiny and in desperate need of a makeover. The curtains at the kitchen window were faded and grease-splattered, and the linoleum on the floor was buckled and cracked in places. From what he had seen of the small sitting room the carpet was an out-of-date swirly pattern that would have been at home in the seventies. The furniture too was of a similar design and vintage.
But it was no wonder his weak and womanising brother-in-law had fallen under her spell, he thought. She was lethally attractive. Even dressed as she was in faded jeans, and with her silver-blonde hair in a haphazard knot on top of her head and no make-up on, she was temptation personified. She oozed sensuality. It was in every curve of her body: the long elegant limbs, the delightfully ripe globes of her breasts, the tiny waist and the sexy flare of her hips. Her mouth was blood-red, not from lipstick but from the inbuilt passion she exuded from every fragrant pore of her body. He had smelt the seductive musk and heady fragrance of jasmine clinging to her golden skin as soon as she had opened the door. It had not only filled his nostrils, it had filled his head, and upended his thoughts until he’d had trouble recalling his mission.
He smiled to himself as he thought of his plan to divert the press’s attention from Rocco in order to protect his sister Chiara. It was going to be much easier than he had expected. Mrs Alex Sharpe was just the sort of woman who would jump at the chance to improve her circumstances.
Besides, he wasn’t going to give her a choice.
Ally rushed through the rest of the flat and grabbed the few photos her sister had displayed and hid them in her suitcase under the bed. She took a couple of steadying breaths and made her way back out to the kitchen. Vittorio Vassallo turned when she came in, his dark gaze meshing with hers.
‘Mrs Sharpe—’ he began.
‘Ally,’ she said, mentally cringing at the thought of being addressed by the name of her sister’s violent ex-husband. ‘I prefer to be called Ally, if you don’t mind.’
‘My brother-in-law always referred to you as Alexandra or Alex,’ he said, his eyes narrowing slightly.
Ally wrestled with herself to hold his penetrating gaze. ‘You said your name is Vittorio,’ she countered. ‘That seems rather a mouthful. What do your friends and family call you?’
‘Vito,’ he answered. ‘But only very close friends and immediate family members call me that.’
‘So, Mr Vassallo,’ she said giving him a cool little smile, ‘how can I be of assistance to you?’
His expression was imperious, condescending almost, which infuriated Ally even further. ‘I am here about my car,’ he said.
Ally looked at him blankly, her heart starting to kick against her sternum in alarm. ‘Your c-car?’
His eyes burned into hers. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘The car you scraped all over with a key or a nail file, causing several thousand euros worth of damage. It was not my brother-in-law’s, as you thought, but mine. I expect you to pay for it.’
Ally swallowed convulsively. ‘Um… look… I think you’ve got the wrong person. I’m not who you think I—’
He stepped closer, almost touching her in the small space of the tawdry kitchen. ‘Do you realise I can have you sent to prison for this alone, not to mention the issue of the money you stole?’ he asked in a biting tone.
Ally blinked at him. The money? What money? What did he mean…? She felt her insides turn to liquid as she suddenly remembered.
The money currently in her handbag.
Her knees began to knock together slightly. She dragged in a breath that felt as if it had a bramble attached as the scorch of his accusing gaze held her fast. ‘I didn’t do it,’ she said, her head spinning at his closeness. ‘I—I didn’t deface your car, and I… I don’t know anything about any money.’
He let out a vicious swear word in his mother tongue. Even though Ally only knew a few phrases of Italian she knew it was an expletive just by the sheer force of its delivery. ‘You think I do not have proof?’ he barked at her savagely.
Ally wanted to tell him who she really was, but knew if she did so he might press charges on Alex, in spite of her fragile mental state. He certainly looked angry and ruthless enough to do so, and until she knew what Alex was being accused of she had no choice but to continue with her artifice.
‘W-what sort of proof?’ she asked, backing away as far as the kitchen counter would allow, her spine feeling as if it was being sawn in half by the pressure of the counter digging into it from behind.
‘We will deal with the car issue first,’ he said in a flint-like tone. ‘You were photographed by a passerby on a camera phone.’ He reached inside his jacket pocket, took out a slim envelope and handed it to her.
Ally took it with fingers that felt as if the bones and ligaments had been taken out, making the task of opening the envelope almost impossible without betraying her trepidation. But somehow she finally managed to take out the three shots of her twin, which clearly showed her gouging the shiny red paintwork of a top-model Ferrari with what seemed to be a key. Ally had no idea what had made her sister act in such a destructive way, but if the look on her face was any indication Alex had been totally out of control, with a rage so intense her eyes looked wild and her whole demeanour dangerous.
If only Ally knew what had been going on! What had caused her sister to fall apart emotionally? Alex had had numerous break-ups with boyfriends in the past, and while each one had upset her it had never been on this sort of scale. Why had this one caused such a reaction?
‘Are you still going to stand there and deny it was you?’ he asked.
Ally let out a scratchy sigh and put the photos back inside the envelope. She handed them to him. ‘There doesn’t seem much point, does there?’ she said, mentally resigning herself to the task of maintaining the charade a little longer.
He put the envelope back inside his jacket pocket, still holding her gaze. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘we come to the issue of the money.’
Ally disguised a lumpy swallow. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
His eyes were like black diamonds as they tethered hers. ‘Three days ago Rocco was in possession of a large sum of company funds which he was intending to take to the bank. He told me you intercepted him, and that rather than cause a scene on the street he agreed to talk to you in the privacy of a nearby hotel room. After spending a short period of time with him you disappeared—along with the money.’
Ally felt her stomach drop in alarm. ‘I’m not sure why that necessarily means I am responsible,’ she said, pushing her chin up defiantly. ‘Anyone could have taken it. Rocco included.’
His top lip lifted in an arc of derision. ‘Rocco might not be my favourite brother-in-law, but he is a valuable asset to my investment company. I employed him because of his financial acuity. I have never had a moment’s doubt about his professionalism. If he says you stole the money I have no reason not to believe him.’
Ally had to think on her feet, and fast. The money was burning a hole in her handbag and he had only to insist on searching the flat to find it. Her sister would not escape the heavy hand of the law—especially as she was to all intents and purposes a visitor to the country. A theft on that scale would not be overlooked. Certainly not if Vittorio Vassallo had his arrogant way about it.
‘It’s his word against mine,’ she said, throwing him a challenging glare. ‘If you go public about this I’ll give my own interview to the press on how your brother-in-law seduced me. I’m sure that will go down a treat with all your high-flying investors.’
Anger exploded in his dark gaze. ‘You conniving little bitch,’ he ground out. ‘That’s exactly the sort of thing you would do—which is why I am here to do everything in my power to stop you.’
Ally straightened her spine, even though her legs beneath it wobbled alarmingly. ‘You don’t scare me, Mr Vassallo.’
His eyes glittered dangerously. ‘Give me time, Mrs Sharpe,’ he drawled. ‘Just give me time.’
The ensuing silence was so tense the air crackled with it.
Ally stood as still as her trembling body would allow. There was a roaring in her ears, a sinking feeling in her stomach, and a tight band of tension around her forehead at the thought of taking Vittorio Vassallo on in a battle she couldn’t possibly hope to win.
She was outclassed.
She was out of her depth.
She was a fraud…
‘Rocco informed me you left your job in London to follow him here. Is that correct?’ he asked.
Ally tried not to fidget under his piercing scrutiny. ‘Er… yes.’
‘So you are currently unemployed. Is that also correct?’ he asked.
‘That is correct,’ she lied, her conscience not even niggling her this time. Why should it? she thought. She was on leave for the next two weeks, so technically she wasn’t working.
‘I have a proposition for you,’ he said into the ringing silence.
Ally lifted her chin to a pugnacious height. ‘Oh, really?’
‘My brother-in-law has been a stupid fool where you have been concerned, but he would perhaps not have succumbed to temptation if you had not pursued him so relentlessly,’ he said. ‘Can you imagine how my sister would feel to find out she has been usurped by a common little slut like you?’
Ally was incensed at his choice of words. ‘If your sister was being a proper wife to him perhaps he wouldn’t have strayed in the first place,’ she threw back.
A tiny hammer of tension began beating beneath the dark stubble on his jaw next to his mouth. His coal-black eyes blazed with simmering anger, making her stomach suddenly contract in fear.
‘You are like a bitch in heat,’ he snarled at her. ‘You will bed anyone, any time, for any cheap trinket thrown your way.’
Ally stiffened with fury. He was making her sister sound like an avaricious tramp. Although she didn’t know all the details of Alex’s life over the last twelve months, she wasn’t going to allow Vittorio Vassallo to malign her twin without fighting back.
‘Your brother-in-law is a two-timing creep,’ she snipped at him. ‘I pity his wife. I am sure I’m not the first woman he’s had on the side.’
‘You are right,’ he said, surprising her with his candidness. ‘Rocco is weak where beautiful women are concerned. His affair with you is not his first, and I dare say will not be his last.’
Ally tried to put some space between them, but the room was too small and he was too big. She could smell the lemon-based fragrance of his aftershave. It had been drifting towards her nostrils for the last few minutes, but she had been doing her best to ignore its alluring potency. And failing miserably. Her body was reacting to him in a way she had never thought possible. She was both frightened and attracted at the same time. He had a magnetic aura about him. He was the epitome of the successful businessman—wealth and prestige clung to him like a second skin—but she could see a glint of implacable ruthlessness in his eyes that secretly terrified her.

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