Sabrina wished they would. Lock Eleni up, that was. She shivered, yawned, and then laughed tiredly, if a bit hysterically. “We still haven’t exchanged numbers.”
“Who?”
“Luca Argenti." She rubbed her eyes. “He was there with me in the hospital. Oh my God! He might think I’ve left him for you!”
“So that was who that gorgeous man hovering behind you was. I thought he looked familiar. If he wants to be worthy of you, he shouldn’t let it stop him,” Chase said thoughtfully.
“Stop him from what?” But Sabrina didn’t hear Chase’s answer.
The next thing she knew, she was stretching on a king-sized bed, her body surfacing from a deep, heavy sleep. She felt like a sloth and wanted to go back to sleep again.
“Rise and shine, Sabrina Connelly.”
Chase was standing by the doorway looking disgustingly chipper. His hair was damp and he was wearing board shorts and a white wife beater that showed off his tan.
Sabrina groaned and buried her head under the covers. The bright Mediterranean sun was streaming through the flimsy white curtains. She could hear the roar of the waves.
“You’re not getting lunch in bed, so move your butt if you want to eat.”
“Give me a few minutes.”
The few minutes turned into fifteen. She stared at her appalling reflection. She looked drawn and wan. She had flashes of recollection of being half-dragged, half-carried by Chase and then stumbling into bed. She heard him admonishing her not to rip her dress and then Chase zipping her out of it. Sometime during the night, she had removed her bra.
She touched the bump on her head gingerly. It did not hurt as much, but it was still tender. Strands of her hair were sticking out of her head like a kitten had a field day on it. She realized her chignon was still in place. Antonia did a good job of it.
She tugged on it then paused when her hand encountered something cool and hard. The diamond and sapphire necklace. Thank God it hadn’t been lost during the skirmish.
She donned a robe from the closet. She had no clothes with her and found her way, barefoot, to the kitchen where Chase was downing a glass of orange juice by a breakfast nook.
The cook, a petite young woman with jet-black hair and heavily made-up eyes, flashed her a wicked smile. “Hello, Bree.”
“LuLu!” Sabrina greeted in surprise, rushing over and enveloping the personal assistant in a bear hug.
LuLu couldn’t reciprocate, she was wielding a knife and chopping some pungent garlic, but she did manage some reciprocal squeeing.
Sabrina released her and stepped back. “I’m so happy to see you.”
“You look like hell.”
“I feel it.” Sabrina smoothed her hair self-consciously. “You’re looking good, though.”
“Chase raised my salary. I threatened to leave him for Sam West.”
Chase grunted in disgust at the mention of his rival actor. He couldn’t stand his contemporary, who had started out in action movies and was now an Oscar winner.
“Good for you,” Sabrina said, sauntering back to the dining table. She sat across Chase and watched him attack his egg white omelet with gusto.
“How did you find this place? It’s incredible.” Sabrina took a bite of the lettuce on her salad.
She had passed by the living room on her way to the kitchen. Like her bedroom, it had floor-to-ceiling glass windows with an amazing view of the beach.
“Connections,” Chase said mysteriously.
LuLu snorted.
“Like the one you hitched a jet ride with?”
“He’s a duke. I didn’t pick up a new lover in Italy, Bree, so remove that frown of disapproval on your face,” he said.
“A duke? Wait. The same one you had been crushing on in L.A.?” Sabrina had been alarmed at the time how obvious Chase was in his interest in the man. She swung her gaze to LuLu, who nodded imperceptibly.
But apparently the man knew how to keep his mouth shut because no rumors surfaced about it.
“Sadly, my charms are wasted on that one. He’s heterosexual,” he sighed mournfully. “He’s married now, and he’s disgustingly in love with his wife. They were on holiday in Italy. We bumped into each other. Their kid got sick and they were delayed. Last night they were hoping they could still make it to the royal reception.”
And speaking of the royal reception…
“Where are the papers?”
“What papers?” Chase hedged.
“The newspaper, the tabloids.”
“You don’t really need to see them…”
“Where are they?”
“Oh, alright.” He stood up reluctantly, walked to the kitchen counter top, and plopped several papers on the table.