she hadn't enough money to go on the run, or enough skill to outwit Sandro for long. And she couldn't afford to provoke his wrath again. She needed to reason with him—to persuade—even to plead, if she had to. Besides, on a purely practical level, instinct warned her that if she attempted to leave, whoever waited in the shadows opposite would step out and prevent her from going.
She sank down onto the floor, and leaned her head against the bars of the cot, listening to Charlie's soft, even breathing. And thinking of all the nights of silence that could be waiting for her.
When she finally returned to the other room, she discovered gratefully that the sofa bed had been opened and made up for the night, and the glass of wine was waiting with a note that said, 'See you in the morning..'
She took a first sip, then carried the wine into the bathroom, and began to half fill the tub with warm water, softened by a handful of foaming bath oil. No shower tonight, she told herself. She wanted to relax completely.
She took off her clothes and slid with a sigh into the scented water, reaching for her wineglass.
It would help her sleep, she thought. And tomorrow, when she was more rested, things might seem better. After all, she knew now the worst that could happen to her, and there must be a way of dealing with it that would not leave her utterly bereft.
She leaned back, resting her head on the rim of the bath, and closing her eyes.
Yes, tomorrow she would make plans. Find out if she qualified for legal aid. and get herself a lawyer of her own. Someone who would negotiate with Sandro on her behalf, and allow her to maintain some kind of distance from him.
I really need to do that, she thought. To stay calm—and aloof. I can fight him better that way.
And at that moment, as if he were some demon she'd conjured up from her own private hell, she heard his voice, low, mocking and far too close at hand.
'Falling asleep in the bath, mia bella’ That will never do. Surely you don't wish Carlino to become motherless so soon?'
CHAPTER FOUR
Polly started violently, giving a strangled cry of alarm as the glass jerked and the wine spilled everywhere.
She looked round and saw Sandro leaning in the doorway, watching her with cool amusement.
She tried to sit up, remembered just in time that there weren't enough bubbles to cover her, slipped on the oily surface, and was nearly submerged. She grabbed the rim of the bath, gasping in rage, and saw Sandro walking towards her.
'Keep away from me.' Her voice rose in panic.
'I am coming to rescue your glass, nothing more,' he countered silkily. 'If it breaks, you could hurt yourself badly.' He took it from her hand. 'Besides, how shameful if I had to tell people that the mother of my child drowned while drunk,' he added, his mouth slanting into a grin.
'Just keep me out of your conversations,' Polly said hotly, aware she was blushing under his unashamed scrutiny. 'How the hell did you get in here?'
'I told Julie not to lock the door when she left.'
'You did what?' Polly almost wailed. 'Oh, God, how could you? You realise what she'll think?'
He shrugged. 'I am not particularly concerned.' He gave her a dry look. 'Anyway, I imagine one look at Carlino told her all that she needs to know. We cannot hide that we once had a relationship.'
'Yes,' she said. 'With the emphasis on the "once". But not now, and not ever again, so will you please get out of here? Before I call the police,' she added for good measure.
Sandro shook his head reprovingly. 'Your skills as a hostess seem sadly lacking, cara mia. Perhaps you feel at a disadvantage for some reason?'
'Or maybe I prefer company I actually invited here,' Polly threw back at him. 'And you'll never be on any guest-list of mine.'
'You entertain much, do you—in this box? I'm sure you find the sofa that turns into a bed a convenience—for visitors who linger.'
"This is my home,' she said. 'And I assure you it caters
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