Modern Romance July 2015 Books 5-8. Louise Fuller

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      Yes, they had seen it online, but walking through it was breath-taking. The tall arched windows were beautifully dressed in heavy fabric. The décor was a mixture of antiques yet there was every modern luxury.

      ‘There’s an internal elevator,’ Bella said. ‘Shall we go up to the rooftop?’

      Sophie shook her head. ‘I’ll explore there later.’

      It was agony to be here and to know it was his.

      Bella had been busy and now in the wardrobe in the main bedroom hung elegant dresses, skirts and jackets and some shoes. Bella had lent Sophie her mother’s heavy silver hairbrush and that was in the large bathroom, along with expensive toiletries they had bought. But even with everything they had managed to cobble together over the last few days, even with all their resources pooled and their savings almost spent, it was just a tiny drop in the ocean compared to Luka’s obvious wealth.

      ‘Doesn’t it make you feel jealous?’ Bella pushed.

      ‘I chose not to go to London with him, remember. Anyway, who knows what would have happened if I had gone? We might not have got on,’ Sophie pointed out ‘One romantic afternoon doesn’t mean that we would have lasted a lifetime. And, anyway, I want nothing that has Malvolio’s name attached to it.’

      ‘Luka works hard.’

      ‘We work hard,’ Sophie said. ‘The only difference is we didn’t get a step up on the ladder. Our parents didn’t give us a share in a hotel to kick our careers off.’

      It was easier to resent him, to sound jealous. It was far easier then admitting the truth—that she missed him so much, every single minute of every single day.

      And as for the nights...

      ‘What time is he getting here?’ Bella asked.

      ‘Any time now,’ Sophie said. ‘We’re going out to dinner to make sure our stories match.’

      ‘Well, just be as expensive as the women where we work. Don’t say sorry to staff and don’t...’ Bella gave her a smile. ‘You’ll be fine. Oh, I got you a present. Actually, two...’

      ‘Bella!’ Sophie scolded when she saw the latest phone. ‘We can’t afford this.’

      ‘Yes, we can. You can hardly pretend to be an event planner and not even have a phone. When you’re done with Luka, I want it if you don’t.’

      ‘What’s this?’ She opened the second present, which was a heavy bottle filled with very expensive perfume. ‘Bella...’

      ‘What woman wouldn’t have perfume in the bathroom.’

      ‘We didn’t have the money for that.’

      ‘Oh, well...’

      ‘You stole this?’

      ‘Yes, I did,’ Bella said. ‘And I don’t feel guilty and I don’t feel ashamed. If that’s the worst thing I do then I am glad to do it for you.’

      Sophie opened the perfume and sprayed it on her wrist and then squirted Bella, who laughed but then it faded.

      She had a question of her own.

      ‘Did he say anything about Matteo?’

      ‘Nothing.’

      ‘I thought they were in business together...’

      ‘We really didn’t talk that much.’

      ‘I’m scared I’m going to find out that Matteo is married. I know he must think I’m still a whore.’

      ‘Matteo paid for you,’ Sophie pointed out.

      There was so much shame for them both.

      ‘I still think about him all the time,’ Bella admitted. ‘Do you think he remembers me?’

      ‘Of course he must,’ Sophie said. ‘But it was years ago, Bella. If seeing Luka again has taught me anything it is that people move on. Luka is busy with his life, his women. He has long since moved on from those days. So too must we. When all this over, you and I are going to chase our dreams. I don’t care what it takes but you are going to go design school and I’m going to have a career.’

      ‘On the ships.’

      ‘Who knows?’ Sophie said. ‘But I’m not going to spend the rest of my life mourning Luka. I want this over and done with.’

      ‘I’m going to go,’ Bella said.

      ‘Thank you.’

      Bella forced a smile. ‘I want all the details. Imagine you and Luka sharing a bed after all this time...’

      Sophie smiled as her friend left but alone she walked nervously around the apartment. The bedroom mocked her, the bed mocked her. It was hard to believe that soon she would be lying in there at night with Luka. That wasn’t all that upset her. It wasn’t just the thought that he had lain in this bed with others that had bile rising like a volcano.

      It was that Luka had had a life, a good one.

      But without her.

      Alone she walked around and then pulled back the antique gate and stepped into the elevator, it was small but luxurious, and she stepped out to a view that under any other circumstances would have taken her breath away.

      Now, again, she was close to tears.

      Rome glittered before her, the view better than any from the hotel because you were actually in it. She could hear the noise from the street below and see the Colosseum and the Vatican. The light was fading and soon the streets would pulse with nightlife yet it was not this view she craved.

      She had never ached to be back in Bordo Del Cielo till now—there were too many dark memories there. Since seeing Luka, though, she craved to be there. She wanted to get back to her secret cove and to be near water that was so clear and cool that it took the sting out of summer.

      Unable to bear it, Sophie headed back down but there was no relief to be had there, for having worked out a room for her father she walked down the main corridor and peered into the bedroom she would share with Luka.

      The room was magnificent, better than the presidential suite at the hotel where she worked.

      The furnishings were heavy and masculine and it would take more than a silver hairbrush and a few dresses in the wardrobe to detract from the male energy that stopped her from going in.

      The bed was wide, dressed in muted jewelled tones, and she could not imagine herself lying there with him.

      Worse, she tormented herself by imagining him lying there with another woman.

      ‘Sophie?’ His deep voice made her jump and then spin around on her new high heels.

      ‘I didn’t hear you come in.’

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