Second Chances in Chianti (Escape to Tuscany Book 2) by T.A. Williams (best ereader under 100 TXT) 📗

Alice was impressed. It came as no surprise to find he was well-informed. ‘Thank you… Conrad. Yes, I’m sorry not to be part of Pals Forever, but I’ve got an interview in a few days’ time for a job in the art history field, my speciality.’ She glanced across towards their table. ‘But please don’t let me drag you away from your family. I’ve rented a little house in the village for the rest of the month, so maybe we’ll meet up again some time.’

‘Excellent. Come up to the villa some time. Meet the family properly. My two daughters are over there. I’ll give you a call. Well, enjoy your meal, Alice. Good to see you.’

As she sat back down again, she reflected that he had been unexpectedly nice but, then, she had always got on pretty well with him, right up until the last few months five years ago, when it had all turned sour. It was with a considerable sigh of relief that she reached for her glass and took a big mouthful before returning to her bruschetta.

Chapter 14

She was woken at three o’clock in the morning by her phone. She opened her eyes and reached for it, wondering if it might be David, as she relished the prospect of giving him a piece of her mind. To her extreme annoyance, it was Richie. She dismissed the call, gave an infuriated sigh and lay back down again. She was just drifting off to sleep five minutes later when the phone bleeped and she saw that it was a text message from him. She was about to delete it and turn off the phone when a couple of words attracted her attention: so stupid. Propping herself on her elbow, she read it through. It was short and far from sweet.

Hi Al, I’ve been so stupid. Carrie got her revenge for being dumped and it affects us all – and the studio. Check out this link. The story’s all over the internet and it’ll be in the papers tomorrow. I’m really, really sorry. R.

She clicked on the link and felt a wave of anger wash over her. This website – just about the most popular Hollywood insiders’ website – was full of talk of Pals Forever, and on the very first page there was a photo of Layla and Alice, both wearing bikinis, lying on sunbeds by the pool at the villa. Carrie must have taken the shot one day the previous week. The caption underneath read: Layla and Alice say no to new show, in spite of looking hotter than ever. Alice nearly threw the phone across the room in fury, but she controlled herself and read through to the end.

There was no getting away from it: Carrie had done a thorough job of spilling the beans. She had even managed to take a most unflattering photo of Richie with a glass of wine at his lips, no doubt intended to give the impression he had a drink problem. That didn’t bother Alice in the slightest – in fact, if it had been a photo of him lying in a cowpat, she wouldn’t have minded. How could he have been so stupid as to bring a woman he had, by his own admission, only known for a matter of a few weeks to a sensitive meeting like this and then, to compound his stupidity, dump her so callously? She even wondered whether this article might have been Carrie’s plan all along. Maybe, rather than working in public relations, she was in fact a journalist who had cynically used Richie for her own ends. Wherever the true blame lay, the result was infuriating.

Alice lay back in the darkness and seethed. There was no doubt Carrie had got her revenge and, after the way Richie had treated her, Alice couldn’t blame her for that although she resented the way she and Layla had been dragged into it. She wondered what Conrad Chesterfield would say when he saw the article – and he would, holiday or no holiday. As far as she knew, no press release had yet been circulated to announce the cast or to give any advance information about the premise of the new show. Of course, there was the chance Conrad might look upon it as ‘there’s no such thing as bad publicity’, but he might take the opposite view and go ballistic. Alice consoled herself with the thought that at least she was now out of all the dog-fighting, and this finally allowed her to get back to sleep.

When she got up, she turned on the TV as she made herself a cup of tea and almost choked on it as that same photo of her and Layla, both wearing very little, appeared on the screen. If even Italian television had picked up the story, then there could be no doubt that it had gone viral. She watched as their ‘Hollywood correspondent’ went on to repeat almost word for word what Alice had read in the middle of the night and, needless to say, a series of photos flashed up on the screen of her wearing her revealing ‘Polly’ outfits. The cat was well and truly out of the bag and now, after five years of trying to lay Polly the flirt to rest, here she was again.

Alice was furious.

Still seething, she set off up the hill at a fast pace, muttering dire imprecations under her breath as she went along. By the time she got to the gates of the villa, she was sweating profusely and when she reached the top, she was gasping. She stopped for a rest in the shade of an umbrella pine and leant forward, her hands on her thighs, sucking in lungful after lungful of air, as sweat dripped down her nose and onto the bone-dry pine needles at her feet. Such was her state of physical and mental turmoil, she didn’t hear the approaching footsteps until