When she opened the hand-case she wanted to scream with both joy and despair. Enclosed was every lotion and potion a woman could want, and make-up selected especially for her colouring. Worst of all was that it was all brands she coveted. She would walk past their counters in department stores and gaze at the beautiful items, promising herself that she would buy them when she earned enough money.
Shouldn’t she be pleased she had them roughly five years ahead of schedule? Maybe she should but she couldn’t muster up the necessary sparkly feelings. She didn’t want to feel any gratitude towards Pepe. Wasn’t that how Stockholm syndrome started? Not that she’d been kidnapped, not in the traditional sense of the word. In the ‘really not been given any other option’ sense of the word then she had been.
She gathered all the toiletries together and took them into the en suite. Before stepping into the shower, she examined her thighs. Pepe’s ointment was a marvel. The only discernible sign of injury was a slight pink mark. No pain at all.
The shower itself invigorated her. The gel smelt so utterly gorgeous and the water pressure and heat were so marvellous that she washed herself twice.
Well, that certainly beat the pathetic excuse for a shower she had in her shared bathroom in Dublin.
Wrapping a large fluffy white towel securely around her, she wandered back into her bedroom. She needed to select something to wear, which in theory shouldn’t be a problem, but when one was confronted with a dozen beautiful outfits it became one.
For the first time in her life she had a problem selecting what to wear.
Just as she’d decided on a pair of designer black jeans and a cherry-red cashmere jumper, there was another knock on her door.
‘Come in,’ she called, expecting to see Monique standing there.
Her welcoming smile turned into a scowl when she found Pepe there instead.
CHAPTER FIVE
‘WHAT DO YOU WANT?’
‘Good morning to you too, cucciola mia,’ he replied with a flash of his straight white teeth. He was wearing a grey suit with a white shirt and a black cravat. Yes. A cravat. Pepe wore a cravat that should look ridiculous but instead...
He looked far too gorgeous for sensibility.
‘We need to leave shortly.’
Cara shrugged. ‘If you want me to come with you, then you’ll have to wait. I’m not ready.’
‘Monique told you to be ready in an hour. That was an hour ago.’
‘I don’t wear a watch and my phone’s out of battery, so I have no way of knowing what the time is. I would charge my phone but the charger’s in Dublin,’ she added pointedly.
‘Is no problem,’ he said, brushing his way past her and perching on her bed. ‘As you suggested, I will wait for you.’
‘Not in here, you won’t.’
‘And you are going to stop me how?’ he asked in a chiding fashion.
She speared him with the nastiest glare she could muster.
He laughed softly, which made her scowl all the more.