Victoria phoned her, sitting perched on the balustrade of the terrace looking down past the olive groves at the sea.
‘Anne, I—’ Victoria wanted to tell her about Bill, about the awful phone call and how scared she was. But something stopped her.
‘What is it, Vic?’
‘Nothing.’
Anne hesitated. ‘Vic, is something the matter?’
‘No, not at all. In fact very much the opposite. The Prince has been a wonderful host.’
‘Look, they want to shoot those pictures in London in four days.’
‘Four days?’
‘Exactly. I’ve made arrangements for a jet to pick you up on the island and fly you to London. I’ll be there to pick you up.’
So she’d been right. It was all a dream that would come to an end as fast as it had begun. Victoria stared at the sea, at a woman leading a loaded donkey on the path below, and sighed.
‘Vic? Are you still there? Tell me, how did you like the island? See any property that you might want to invest in?’
‘It’s very nice. But frankly I’m not sure about it.’ The thought of being on the island, so close to Rodolfo and having to perhaps see him with another woman, would be unbearable, she realised suddenly. The last thing she wanted was to live here if she couldn’t be with him. ‘We’ll talk about it when I see you.’
‘Okay. Fine. Have a good time. I’ll call you again with the departure time. By the way, I think things are beginning to die down on the press front. Ed’s cooled down.’
‘Good. Bye then.’
Victoria swallowed as she laid down the receiver. She thought of Bill and the twenty-four-hour deadline he’d given her to come up with some cash. Should she pay him off and be left in peace for a while? Or would he simply become an ongoing threat, always there, ready to blackmail her whenever he wanted more money?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a movement from inside the castello. She looked up. A tall, slim blonde woman in well-cut white trousers and a black linen top, with a large leather handbag flung over her shoulder and a haughty expression, stepped onto the terrace.
‘And who,’ she demanded peremptorily, ‘are you?’ She tipped up her designer sunglasses to take better stock of Victoria.
‘I’m staying here,’ Victoria replied, bristling. Who was this creature, and what right did she have to question her?
‘Oh. How strange,’ she said. She had a foreign accent. ‘Where is he—do you know?’
‘Who?’
‘Why, the Prince, of course. Who else?’ The woman cast Victoria a withering look.
‘I have no idea. Perhaps in his office,’ Victoria replied coldly. ‘He said he had business to attend to.’
‘I see. Are you the new secretary?’ the woman enquired, looking her up and down. ‘Why aren’t you inside working?’
‘Look, I really don’t see what business it is of yours who I am or what I do,’ Victoria muttered icily.
At that moment Rodolfo stepped out onto the terrace. He took in the scene and cleared his throat. ‘Alexandra. What an unexpected surprise. I didn’t know you were on the island.’
‘My yacht anchored this morning. You look in good form, mein lieber.’ The woman sidled up to him, slipped an arm around his neck and deposited a kiss on his lips.
‘Uh, yes, I’m fine. I see you’ve met Victoria,’ Rodolfo added hastily, amazed at Countess Alexandra’s extraordinary behaviour.
She was one of the women the council had suggested he marry. Seeing her now, next to Victoria, he realised how impossible that would be. Alexandra was domineering and cold, even though her beauty and chic were undeniable. He glanced at Victoria, saw the tempestuous pain in her eyes, and felt his heart sink. The way Alexandra was behaving, Victoria would naturally believe there was something between them.
‘I haven’t been introduced. I didn’t know you allowed your staff to dawdle about,’ Alexandra pronounced in a low sultry voice.
‘Staff?’
‘Well, isn’t she your new secretary?’ Alexandra said, as though Victoria weren’t there.
‘Whatever gave you that idea?’ Rodolfo returned, annoyed, and stepped pointedly away from her. ‘Victoria, may I introduce Countess Alexandra von Bellinghof? This is Victoria Woodward. You have perhaps seen her in the movie which won so much acclaim at the Cannes Film Festival.’
Alexandra looked taken aback, but she quickly came about. ‘Ah, yes, of course. I should have recognised you immediately. After all, you’ve been front-page news for the past few days, haven’t you?’ The Countess’s tone was patronising and laced with venom.
Victoria seethed inwardly, but held her temper in check. She could tell the woman was determined to provoke her but she wouldn’t rise to the bait.
‘Part of the trials of fame,’ she answered languidly. ‘One keeps on having to deal with the paparazzi and the gutter press.’
‘Victoria is here incognito,’ Rodolfo said hastily. ‘I shall expect your complete discretion,’ he insisted.
‘Oh, goodness. Well, of course.’ Alexandra waved a dismissive hand. ‘I’m sure you have enough troubles without being hounded by the curious. Though, of course, if one has the unwholesome habits you’re reputed to indulge in, then…’ She let the rest of the sentence trail, turned from Victoria and shrugged. ‘I suppose it’s the best one can expect.’
Rodolfo’s blood boiled, and he replied icily, ‘Alexandra, you should have called before coming here. I’m afraid this isn’t a very convenient time. Why don’t I give you a buzz when I’m able to make some arrangement to see you socially?’ he said, slipping his hand under her elbow and guiding her firmly back towards the living room.
Victoria was pleased to see the woman’s features stiffen. Then Alexandra drew herself up and sniffed. ‘Of course—I’m sorry if I’m in the way. I shall leave immediately. You are obviously very busy. I imagine you must be amusing yourself quite nicely,’ she added, in a low conspiratorial voice that was calculated to reach Victoria.
Despite her anger, Victoria’s cheeks turned red. Was it written all over her that she’d slept with Rodolfo? Or was the woman just a bitch? Whichever the case, she felt diminished and offended.
‘I’m sorry about that,’ Rodolfo said a couple of minutes later. ‘Alexandra was being particularly obnoxious today.’ He laughed, making light of the situation, but Victoria could see that he was ruffled.
‘Who is she anyway?’
‘A German countess whose parents have a property on the island.’
‘She seemed to be quite intimate with you.’
‘Hmmm.’ He smiled
