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position. She simply couldn’t move. It was as if her feet were reluctant to leave the relative safety of the kitchen, just in case.

      ‘News flash. I’m back. Freya’s in Italy. Dad won’t be coming back any time soon. As of today, he has officially retired. Goodbye Elstrom Mapping. Hello Italy.’

      Then he gave a twitch. ‘Sorry. But it looks like you’re out of a job.’

      His gaze scanned her scantily clad body from the toes sticking out from the feathery mules to the top of her gold paper crown and lingering at all of the right places on the way up.

      The start of a lazy lopsided smile warmed his mouth. ‘No rush to get packed tonight. Tomorrow will do. Goodnight.’

      * * *

      Goodnight? Out of a job? What?

      Any lingering after-effects of the party had gone in a flash.

      Before Scott could start up the stairs, Toni dashed in front of him and stood on the bottom step so that they were at more or less the same height.

      To his credit, Scott Elstrom didn’t even flinch but braced himself, legs apart, and stared at her as she crossed her arms and stared him out.

      ‘Oh, no, you don’t. I signed a contract with Freya Elstrom to paint a portrait of the CEO of Elstrom Mapping. She was the one who got in contact with me. Begging me to do the work. I’ve dropped everything to be here.’

      There was a deep low sigh from the man standing only inches in front of her and he shifted his gaze from her face to the wall for a few seconds.

      ‘What was your surname again?’

      ‘Baldoni. Ah, I can see that you recognise it. The Baldoni family have painted the last four generations of Elstrom chairmen. Freya called me just after Christmas to set it up for her father. Apparently he had been thinking about it for a while and finally just decided to go ahead with his portrait. This is the earliest I could do it, which makes me feel sick.’

      ‘Christmas. Right. So she asked you to paint his portrait after the holidays. No wonder she wanted me there.’

      ‘Actually, she was more concerned that it was a Baldoni than which member of my family it was. Apparently your father is a stickler for tradition.’

      ‘You might say that,’ he murmured and ran his hand back through his dirty blond, very scraggy hair. ‘He would want the same artist if he could do it.’

      ‘Tricky, since my grandfather is long gone. But if Mr Elstrom is ill,’ she murmured to herself, and then realised that Scott was still listening, ‘of course I can reschedule the sitting. That’s not a problem. When your father is better, Freya can let me know. I have some photos that she sent me and I’m sure I can come up with something he will be pleased with... Why are you shaking your head? Is there something else?’

      ‘My father is retired, Miss Baldoni. As of this afternoon, I am the new head of Elstrom Mapping.’

      His eyebrows squeezed closer together but his gaze focused laser-sharp on her face.

      ‘And the last thing I need is my portrait painted.’

      * * *

      Scott stood back and watched the fiery brunette with the lovely brown eyes stomp past him up the staircase towards the guest bedroom before picking up his over-heavy duffel.

      Toni Baldoni probably had no idea how much he enjoyed following her up the stairs. One slow step at a time.

      The last time he had shared this house with girls wearing nothing but lingerie had been on Freya’s university graduation party, when he had dared to turn up an hour early and walked in on way too many over-excited girls high on champagne and life, all fighting for the hair straighteners and his attention. They had even taken over his en suite bathroom to cope with the party preparations.

      Strange. He hadn’t thought about that in a long time.

      An unexpected quiver of a laugh surprised him as this brunette stomped in her ridiculous shoes down the landing and her light gown wafted up, giving him a delightful flash of creamy thigh.

      Eyes flashing, she instantly flung a glance at him over one shoulder and tugged down her gown, shot into the guest room and shut the door very firmly behind her.

      Shaking his head and blinking to stay awake, Scott found the key, turned it in the lock and stepped inside the same bedroom that he had claimed the very first day he had arrived with Freya and his mother. This clean and uncluttered modern town house had seemed like another world from the dark, creaky old Victorian stone villa that was the family home they had shared with their father.

      Sheer force of habit made him drop his duffel bag next to the bed and unlock and fling open the double windows to let some air into the overheated and stuffy room.

      He didn’t need the heat.

      He just wanted sleep and quiet to process the events of the day.

      Freya had known that he wasn’t planning to come back any time soon and not that much had changed in the two years since he had last slept here.

      It looked like the same bed, wardrobe and furnishings that he remembered.

      But there was something new. Perched on the window ledge was a silver-framed photograph of a stunningly pretty slim blonde in a flimsy summer dress with legs that went on for ever.

      Alexa.

      Scott picked up the frame and glanced at it for a second before stashing it in the drawer of the bedside cabinet.

      He had taken the photograph that first summer holiday they spent together walking in Switzerland. They were both single, in their twenties and had the whole world ahead of them.

      In his eyes Alexa was the perfect woman for him. As a teenager he had watched his very different parents drift apart over the years and lead separate lives until the only thing they had in common was Freya and himself.

      He wouldn’t make that mistake.

      Alexa was clever, stunningly pretty and, best of all, a total sports fanatic like himself. They used to talk for hours about the things they both loved, laughing over tall tales from all of the exotic places that they had visited. They had been inseparable.

      Heady with the mountain air, they had fallen in love. Over the next twelve months, they were so caught up in their engagement and the whirlwind of a top London wedding that he didn’t have time to stop and consider what married life was going to be like.

      It was hard to believe that it could have ended so badly.

      If Freya thought that being reminded of happier times with Alexa would help him to get over his cheating ex-wife then she didn’t understand.

      There were some things a sunny disposition couldn’t fix.

      Sometimes betrayal went too deep, like a bullet to the chest which lay too close to vital organs to be removed. Always there. Always catching you out when you least expected it.

      A flash of memory surged through his brain, hot and wild. He could almost see Alexa reclining on this same bed, with a look of love in her eyes, beckoning him to join her. Her long straight blonde hair that he used to adore spread out across the pillow, warm, soft and inviting.

      The frostbite in his fingers was nothing compared to this type of deep-seated pain.

      Scott’s fingers tightened around the edge of the window frame as he looked out into the night sky, which in London was never going to be truly dark or clear.

      Closing his eyes for a second, he gave way to the surge of anger and disappointment that he had buried deep inside himself since the moment he had walked into that hospital room in Rome.

      It had been one of the most humbling experiences of his life. It was astonishing to see his father looking so low and depressed. Lars Elstrom had given up. Stopped trying. Beaten down by the events of the past few years to the point

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