Bedded by the Italian Playboy (16 page)

Unacceptable.

He
picked up his landline phone and stabbed the buttons. Mere moments later, Ryan
picked up the phone on his end. “Dominic?”

“Did
you start the background check on Rachel?” he demanded in rapid Italian.

“I
have the information here,” Ryan said slowly. “On my tablet. I was just at your
suite to give it to you but Rachel…”

Dominic
clenched his fits, barely able to say her name. “Rachel what?”

“She
said you were unavailable.”

“I
see.”

 
“You need to read this dossier, though,” Ryan
added. “I have been trying your Blackberry for this past hour.”

“An
hour?” Had so much time passed then? It seemed to Dominic like it had all
occurred in a space of minutes. One moment he’d held Rachel in his arms and
fallen into a satisfied slumber, the next he’d awoken and everything had come
crashing down. Goddamn it, why did his chest feel so fucking tight? “I have
been…otherwise engaged,” he grated.

“And
now?”

“I
am in my office. Bring it to me.”

Ryan
clicked his phone off and Dominic gritted his teeth. What was the dossier going
to say? How important was it if Ryan had been calling him constantly? He
scowled and pulled his Blackberry from his pocket, wincing when he noted that
there were twenty-three missed calls. Not all were from Ryan, of course, and
Dominic found himself scrolling through them, wondering if maybe Rachel had
dared…but no, she had not and he didn’t know whether to feel angry or relived.

Dios,
he didn’t know
anything! Anger, loathing, desire—it all pulsed around inside him and he found
himself moving away from his chair to pace to the window, sitting still no
longer an option. Once again a family were outside in the gardens and he
growled some more when he spotted them. The husband—Dominic assumed he was
such—had his arm around the wife whilst the small children ran around laughing
and giggling and generally just enjoying themselves.
A family.

He’d
begun to imagine such a thing with
her,
hadn’t
he? The lying, cheating….

“Dominic?”

Ryan
pushed the door open, entered the room, and shut it quickly. The other man
looked worried, a frown marring his classical Italian looks, and Dominic felt
his heart beat a little harder. How fucking bad was the document going to be?
Because clearly it was not going to be good. Ryan looked like he’d had to face
his mother after a night of drunken debauchery.

 
“Let me see it.”

Ryan
complied, passing Dominic his tablet. “It is right there,” he said, “and you
need to read it. It came through last night on my email. I only just saw it an
hour and a half ago. I came the moment I did. I only wish….”

“What?”
Dominic demanded.

Ryan
shrugged. “That you’d asked me to start the investigation sooner.”

“It
is that bad, no?”

“It
is not good.”

Dominic
scowled and sat back down. Ryan took the seat directly across and waited as his
boss read through the information quickly. A few moments later, Dominic lifted
his head, the scowl now seemingly entrenched. “This makes no sense.”

“No.”

“The
address she gave on her registration does not exist?”

“No,”
Ryan confirmed. “Well, that is to say it does but it is what is called a
historical record. Properties are given unique references and this one applies
to an old record. The building did exist at some point and the hotel’s lookup
would find it but it has been knocked down. No one is living there now, certainly
not Rachel or her family, if they even exist.”

“You
believe the family is fake?”

“There
are a number of Rachel Matthews in
Chelmsford
,
even more in the surrounding areas. Many of them have families. I also inputted
the date of birth she gave, physical characteristics and such, and that lowers
the pool. But there is no Rachel Matthews in that house, in that neighborhood,
or with the setup you said she has.”

“So
she—”

“Is
a fake,” Ryan said. “I am sorry to tell you this, Dominic. But Rachel Matthews
does not seem to exist. Not this Rachel anyway.”

“I
see.”

“Dominic,”
Ryan paused, perhaps steeling himself for the next words. “We need to remove
her immediately. It is possible she is a journalist or even a criminal. In
fact, it might be worthwhile calling in our friend from the Met.”

Dominic
shook his head, unwilling to agree to such a thing. Yet even as he did, he
found himself wondering why he wasn’t telling Ryan what he already knew. That
she
was
a criminal, had admitted to
him, was even now locked in his suite waiting for him to work out what the heck
he was going to do with her. The fact that everything she’d told him was a
fake…well, it wasn’t even a surprise to him now.

Everything
had been a lie.

Still,
he was not going to let her go. He couldn’t. She was his until he decided
otherwise. “I will take care of this,” he said. “Leave it at that.”

“But—”

A
knock on his office door interrupted whatever it was Ryan was going to say next
and with a barked “Come” from Dominic, both men turned to see Katie from reception
outlined in the doorway, a piece of paper clutched in her hand.

“Sir?”

“What?”
Dominic snapped, in no mood for anyone else in his office, certainly not some
simpering female. “What?”

“Your
guest…Miss Matthews….”

He
jumped up before he even knew he was going to, his heart suddenly pounding.
“What of her?”

“She
just this moment left, sir.”

 
“What the fuck do you mean she just left?”

“With
a whole lot of bags and another woman. Black-haired, very beautiful and also
very wet. The rain, I guess. Anyway, they both left. They didn’t even have
umbrellas, and she gave me this, asked me to give it to you.”

Dominic
snatched the fluttering piece of paper out of her hands and opened it up,
reading the words greedily. But there were only four and they weren’t enough
and he could barely take them in anyway.

I’m sorry. Yours, Rachel

Chapter Twenty-Three

It
was freezing cold outside the high rise. Winter had well and truly arrived and
any pretence at a bit of sunshine was gone. The ground would be frosted in the
morning, and Rachel imagined how slippery it would be when she took her morning
walk to Little Ducks.

A
gust of wind blew across her as she turned the corner. No longer shielded by
the huge building she lived in, Rachel wished she’d paused for just a moment to
grab her gloves and hat from the bedroom, but Sebastian, Penny’s very own mark,
had arrived—at last—and she knew she had to get out of the flat.

Penny.
She smiled
ever so slightly as she recalled the moment Penny had come crashing through the
door to her hotel room. She’d been drenched from head to toe, her black hair
dripping all over her face, but she’d come, she’d rescued her. And then mere
hours later Lyra had met them at their flat and the three were together again.

As
they were supposed to be.

As
was right.

Only
everything was different now.
Everything.

The
smile that teased her lips faded a little as she wondered whether she
should
have left Penny to deal with
Sebastian on her own, not that her sister couldn’t handle it, but she’d seen the
panic flit across her face.
Panic.
Rachel sighed and sped up. Because the fact of the matter was she wasn’t the
only sister who’d fallen for her mark and Penny needed to talk things out with
Sebastian.

Lyra
needed to talk things out with
Andros
.

And
she…well, she’d love the opportunity to talk to Dominic, not like that was ever
going to happen, but still. Which made Penny’s panic surprising. Because how
would she, Rachel, feel if it had been Dominic on their doorstep? Not panicked,
she thought. Well, that wasn’t true. There would be a little, and fright,
because God knew the man scared her a little, but most of all she’d be
thrilled.

Thrilled.

How
far beyond stupid was it possible for her to get? It had been weeks and weeks
since they’d parted and he was nowhere to be seen. Probably because he didn’t
even know where she lived. And even if he did he was never going to come. She
was never going to see him again and the sooner she accepted that the better.

It
was over.

Rachel
twisted her hands in her chunky knit sweater as that thought hit and turned the
corner of

Her
hands rested against her stomach and she frowned. It wasn’t going to be that
easy though.

 
Five minutes later she arrived at The Centre,
the shop they’d rented out for the next few months until they could get The
Point up and running. It had been Lyra’s idea. Whilst they waited for work to
begin on the building Penny had stolen the money to buy, they needed somewhere
for the local homeless teenagers to go and what used to be The Greasy Spoon was
perfect. The commercial kitchen was a bit buggered, but it was workable and
there was plenty of space for a few tables and a couple of couches. They’d been
up and running now for over a week. Of course, they hadn’t bothered applying
for permission from the council. What was the point? It would take months and
it was so much easier to just get on with things and it was working, Rachel
thought as she opened the door of the centre and took in the activity.

Lyra
was behind the serving counter buttering what looked like a half a dozen loaves
of bread. Janice, a single mother who lived on their block, was stirring a huge
pot, yammering away as she did so. Rachel sniffed, wondering what was inside.
Hadn’t they been planning to roast chickens?

“What’s
cooking?” she asked.

Lyra
looked up, shot her a smile, and pointed to the pot. “Chicken stew. Only
option. I totally failed with the roasting. The skin got burned and it was a
bit heeby so Jan suggested we just cut it away, pick the chicken off, and pop
it in there.

Janice
nodded. “Get them to eat some veg too,” she said in her broad
East
End
accent. “I’ve stuck some carrots and onions in and some
cabbage. It was on offer, two for one. Bit of flour, some stock, and they’ll
lap it up. Plus we’ll have more to go around. I’ve got two more pots out back,
spread the chicken around.”

“Sounds
good.”

Jan
smiled. Lyra nodded her agreement and pointed to the bread. “Wouldn’t mind a
hand with getting all this buttered. We’ve got at least two dozen coming in
tonight.”

Rachel
removed her scarf, washed her hands and joined her sister at the counter. “How
many loaves?”

“All
of them,” Lyra said. “Let’s make sure they have full bellies tonight. I tell
you, Rach, never thought I’d say it, but thank God for Sebastian Demetrious. If
he hadn’t given Pen that extra money, we wouldn’t be able to do this.”

“Talking
of which,” Rachel said, picking up a slice of bread, “he’s at the flat.”

“What?”
Lyra’s bread knife hit the counter with a clang. “Our flat? With Pen?”

Rachel
nodded, not surprised by the shock she saw in her sister’s eyes. Hadn’t she
been the only one who held out any hope that Sebastian, Dominic, or Andros
would show up?

“Yes,”
she said, a smile playing around her lips. “He introduced himself as Penny’s
boyfriend.”

“Oh
my God.”

“I
made myself scarce. Doesn’t take a genius to guess what they’ll be up to. He
said he might stop by later, though. Here, I mean.”

Lyra
picked the knife back up and shook her head. “Unbelievable.”

“He
wants her back,” Rachel said and her chest squeezed. “Maybe it’s true love.”

“Or
maybe he just missed...” Lyra paused. “No, forget I said that. I have to stop
being such a hard-faced bitch. Why not assume it’s true love? Miracles happen,
right?”

“It
seems so.”

“You
think maybe marriage?” Lyra mused. “Even assuming Pen would. You know she’s not
really the marrying type.”

“She
might be with him.” With the right man Rachel thought anything was possible.
Didn’t she know that only too well herself?

“Wow,
Pen will be rolling in it if she marries Demetrious,” Lyra said. “I wonder if
we could get him to give us some more money towards The Point?”