Page 7

‘Bueno…’ she said to the concierge and he blinked at her dreadful attempt at Italian and they were soon speaking in English. ‘I was hoping to book a tour.’

‘Certainly.’ He nodded. ‘Donatella picks the group up at seven p.m., here in the foyer.’

‘I actually wanted to do the morning one,’ Stella said, intending to go for a walk and get some photos of the town this evening, after she’d eaten. ‘The one that includes the forest walk to the palazzo.’

‘Sadly, that’s not operating,’ the concierge informed her.

Stella assumed, as was often the case, it might have been called off due to a lack of numbers. ‘I don’t mind paying for an individual tour.’

‘It is not that…’

‘Oh?’

‘It’s more out of respect—Il Conte di Sant Lavia is…’ His lips pressed down at the edges, perhaps not willing to say, but when she frowned in concern he quietly explained. ‘He is very unwell. Even though the tour does not get too close, we are trying to keep crowds away. There are guards making sure no one gets close…’

‘Of course.’ She closed her eyes, feeling even more dreadful about this morning’s encounter.

‘Will you be dining in the restaurant?’

‘I don’t think so…’ She wanted to, of course, but it felt a little odd to dine somewhere so gorgeous alone. The concierge didn’t seem to think it was a big deal though and having chatted for a few moments, she changed her mind. ‘Actually, yes.’ Stella nodded. ‘Do you think I can get a table on the balcony?’

‘Of course.’

Though first she headed up to her suite and took a shower and then flicked through her wardrobe. It was hopeless, of course. Stella didn’t exactly possess a capsule wardrobe so had packed hastily, and it showed.

Actually, she could have her entire wardrobe here and nothing would suit. She had never figured out her style or what worked for her. Daisy always looked bohemian and floaty, Margot sleek and elegant, and Jinty was able to survive a whole day wearing white…

Her wardrobe really hadn’t caught up with her salary increase.

Stella had been supporting herself since she was sixteen and was always careful. Scared to jinx herself just yet, she’d paid a month’s rent in advance, rather than splurge on clothes. She had two cheesecloth dresses she’d bought at the market that were sort of floaty and pretty and had looked cool on the hangers. One in a vibrant coral, the other in navy…

She chose the coral, though possibly it was a little too vibrant, and did up the endless row of buttons and then tied the little ribbon under her bust and retied her flimsy sandals. She checked her reflection and saw, not a woman doing well in her career who turned twenty-six tomorrow but an imposter.

She put on lip-gloss, still awkward to go down and sit on her own, then jumped when she heard her phone bleep.

It was Daisy.

How’s it all going?

Very well, Stella responded and told her a little of what she’d so far seen and how perfect Palazzo Rinaldi, along with the town, would be for the movie.

Don’t get too attached, Daisy warned.

The trouble was, Stella already was.

Then the phone went silent, and she wandered out onto the balcony, nervous to go down and wondering if it might be better to just order room service, as she had last night.

Instead, she took a breath and headed down to the restaurant.

‘Signorina…’

She was greeted warmly and led through to the balcony. She felt as if everyone was looking at her, but for all the wrong reasons. She lifted her chin and pretended she was good at this.

And then she caught sight of the man from this morning.

He was dressed this time, wearing black suit pants and a white shirt and though his back was to her, even before she glimpsed his strong profile she knew it was him. And, given what she’d been told about the Count, Stella felt awash with guilt for her actions this morning.

He didn’t see her, of course…