Annie Claydon - Falling For Her Italian Billionaire

The after-effects of the drug were hitting him hard. Gabriel had kept it together for longer than most would have done, but now he could hardly keep his eyes open.

‘I’ll stay here, with my team.’

He looked around, as if he’d forgotten that they weren’t alone in the house. That was exactly what Clara wanted. Her team did their jobs quietly and inconspicuously and a client didn’t need to know the nuts and bolts of it. All Gabriel needed to know was that they were there and he was safe.

‘Uh... Okay. Help yourself to...’ He gestured towards the fridge and then seemed to think better of it and shrugged.

This was how it started. Gabriel was the kind of man who was sure of his place in the world, but gradually he was beginning to question the safety of everything around him. Clara had seen it happen before, and knew that it would be a difficult challenge for him to face.

‘Take some water with you.’ She got to her feet, pulling a bottle of water from the supermarket bag and giving it to him. ‘I have to call your father to give him an update. Or would you prefer to do that?’

Gabriel shook his head, wincing in sudden pain. ‘No. This is a company matter, he’ll want a report from you, not me. Tell him I said hello if you like, and that I’ll call him later.’

He turned, walking slowly out of the room. Clara saw his hand shake as he reached for the door handle and wondered if he’d make it up the stairs on his own. But instinct told her that crowding him would be the wrong thing to do at the moment, so she listened for his unsteady footsteps, relaxing only when she heard the sound of a door closing upstairs.

She’d watched over Gabriel’s handsome, sleeping face since the early hours of this morning. Stared at it, unable to believe that anyone could look quite so perfect...

But now wasn’t the time to think about his perfections. It was the vulnerabilities that she had to deal with, the worries and the flaws that came out when a person was in a difficult situation and under pressure. And although Gabriel wasn’t ready to admit it yet, he was in a very difficult situation.

ALONE IN HIS bedroom Gabriel tore off his clothes, leaving them in an untidy pile on the floor, and threw himself down on the bed. The room was bathed in sunlight and it was hurting his eyes so he reluctantly got up again and drew the curtains. That was better.

He was so tired. Asleep almost before he lay back down...

* * *

Eleven years old and alone in the darkness. His leg hurt. Gabriel had dragged himself over to the heap of rocks that had fallen near the mouth of the cave and tried desperately to move them, but they were too big. He’d called his brother’s name, knowing that he wouldn’t answer but hoping somehow for a miracle. Pietro had been buried, along with his friends, and only Gabriel was left.

Time was measured only by fitful sleep and growing hunger pains.

He heard the sound of water, and crawled to find it, pain shooting through his injured leg. The water tasted clean and cool, marred only by the metallic taste of his own blood, where he’d torn his fingers trying to dig.

He lay down on the floor of the cave. It would be better if he stayed here. Pietro was here, and his ghost seemed to beckon Gabriel into his arms...

* * *

Gabriel woke with a start, cold sweat covering his body. Breathe. Wake up. He commanded himself back into the world of the living. Rolling off the bed and stumbling to the bathroom, he turned on the tap, immersing his face in cold water, the shock bringing him to his senses.

Sometimes he’d go for weeks without having the dream. Then something would happen and it would be back again, never changing and still so real that he could almost touch it. Gabriel supposed that the sedative effects of the flunitrazepam might have something to do with it this time. Or maybe the feeling that he was trapped now too, with unknown dangers surrounding him.

He didn’t remember the rescuers bringing him out of the cave, he’d been too far gone by then, but he remembered waking up with his mother at his bedside. He’d seen the light streaming in through the windows, and promised himself he’d never be trapped again. He’d stay in the light and the fresh air, and he’d go wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted.

His parents’ constant, and understandable, concern for him had made that promise difficult to fulfil during the uneasy years of his teens. But Gabriel had learned to keep the peace, giving his mother the reassurance she needed while still reserving a measure of freedom for himself.

Gabriel switched on the shower, soaping himself clean, trying to tease his mind away from the dregs of the nightmare. He should concentrate on all the bright things his life contained. The memory of Clara’s cool fingers on his face suddenly burst into his head, making him shiver.

He wondered vaguely what Clara would have to say about the freedom that he valued so greatly. The thought that she had no authority to say anything about the way he led his life was tempered by the idea that it was probably her reports to his parents that were keeping his mother sane at the moment. And the growing realisation that he liked her. She was honest, and she had the kind of strength that he admired in a person.

And she was beautiful. Maybe it was his drugged state that had endowed her with the most beautiful face he’d ever seen. The fantasy of being approached by a gorgeous woman and told he was in danger from a criminal plot seemed like something out of a spy thriller.

Wrapping a towel around his waist, he padded back into the bedroom, glancing at the clock. It was already three in the afternoon, and he’d slept too long. He should go downstairs and face Clara. Then maybe this whole situation, and Clara herself, would seem a little more ordinary.

* * *

‘Still here, then.’ Clara had heard Gabriel moving around upstairs for the last half-hour. When he appeared in the kitchen doorway he had showered and shaved, and looked a great deal better than he had first thing this morning.

She looked up at him and gave him a smile. ‘You thought I was going somewhere?’

He shrugged. ‘I wasn’t entirely sure that you were ever here at all. I suppose that what you said this morning still stands as well?’

‘Yes. I’m afraid it does.’ Disbelief was a common enough reaction. But the smiling, casual joke that Gabriel made of it was unusual. Most people were a bit more visceral about it, almost pleading with her to tell them that it was all a mistake.

‘Since this all seems to be real...my first concern is for the well-being of my charity. I assume you have details of The Watchlight Trust.’ He nodded towards the laptop that was open in front of her on the kitchen table.

In the circumstances, his first concern should be for his life. Maybe Gabriel took it for granted that he was invulnerable, the rich frequently did. But it seemed she’d found something that he cared about enough to want to protect it.

‘Yes, I do. Interesting name...’

‘We aim to serve those who keep a watchlight burning and are there for us when we’re in trouble.’

‘I can support that. I used to work as an ambulance paramedic...’ Clara bit her tongue. Her own past wasn’t relevant here.

But it was too late. His gaze had caught hers and there was no escape. ‘You know, it seems a little unfair that you know all about me and I know so little about you.’

He’d laid a trap for her and she’d fallen straight into it. Clara felt her cheeks redden. ‘You can have a copy of my CV...’

He shot her a languid smile. ‘Don’t do that. I prefer a more personal approach to information-gathering.’