Keep Your Eyes on Me Page 4

  Lily could hear the distress and anguish in her voice. She rubbed Vittoria’s arm. The silence yawned between them, like a deep gorge with all their troubles swirling in the cold treacherous waters at the bottom. Vittoria shook her head, reaching for another tissue. ‘I’m sorry, I guess I’m feeling a bit vulnerable at the moment,’ she hesitated, ‘very vulnerable, actually. Our house was broken into a few months ago too. I was there on my own. The man was armed. I really thought he was going to kill me.’

  Lily’s eyes opened wide with shock. ‘My God, that’s terrifying. But you don’t think it had anything to do with your husband?’

  Vittoria glanced at her quickly, her eyes full of fear. ‘No, no, the police think he was trying to steal a painting. My father-in-law left quite a collection – we’ve been broken into before.’

  Lily looked at her seriously, her voice low. ‘But you think he could have been up to more than that?’

  Vittoria shook her head again, as if she was trying to shake the idea away. ‘I really don’t know. Marcus got delayed that night so I was at home on my own.’ She let out a long breath, staring blindly at the partition between them. ‘It was horrible. I was asleep. He came into the bedroom.’ Looking up at Lily, Vittoria’s smile was weak as she continued. ‘My self-defence lessons weren’t much use at all. It’s just … I’m one of these positive people who always finds a solution to things, but I feel like I’m totally trapped. And now, after everything that Marcus has done, everything he’s taken from me, I can’t just walk away with nothing, I can’t. I’m not made like that.’

  ‘I know exactly what you mean about feeling trapped, about not knowing what to do.’ Lily paused. ‘I’ve no idea how, but I have to find a way to get our shop back. Jack needs it.’

  ‘It must be worth a lot, so close to the British Museum.’ It was as if Vittoria needed to change the subject for a moment. Her pain was so raw and hot Lily could almost feel it.

  ‘The shop’s beautiful. It’s not very big but it’s on three floors with an apartment in the attic. It’s crammed full of things my grandpa bought at sales over the years. Even he didn’t really know what’s there. It’s like a living piece of history.’

  ‘Will this Croxley character sell it, do you think?’

  Lily shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea. I’d guess so – I can’t see him getting into the antique print business. Jack said he deals in art a bit, but it’s all much more modern stuff. Maybe he wants to open a gallery? I don’t know why he’d want it. And we can’t afford to buy it back. He’ll probably sell it to some artisan coffee company who’ll strip it out and paint it all pink.’

  Vittoria let out a sharp breath, shaking her head. ‘It’s as well you’re getting away. The distance will give you space to think and work out what to do.’

  A smile fluttered at the corners of Lily’s mouth. She liked Vittoria, and horrendous as her situation was, it was a reminder that she, Lily, wasn’t the only one in the world with problems.

  ‘It seems we’re both in impossible situations.’ Vittoria shook her head as she continued. ‘Honestly, you just never know what’s around the corner, do you? You dream and hope and you make plans and, look, we’ve both done so well. You’re on the way to get the job of your dreams—’

  Lily interrupted her, her tone ironic. ‘We’ve both achieved so much but now we could both lose everything. It’s just not fair is it?’

  Vittoria shook her head sadly. Then she straightened in her seat as if she’d suddenly had a moment of revelation. ‘But do you know something?’ She stopped as if an idea was forming as she spoke. ‘We’ve got six hours in the air and we’re two intelligent women. It sounds like you need to sort out this Croxley character and get your shop back, so you can accept this job—’

  Lily interrupted her. ‘And you really need to work out a way to get out from Marcus’s shadow and get payback, but still hold on to everything you’ve built …’

  Vittoria nodded her agreement. She blew her nose. ‘Why don’t we see if we can come up with a plan?’

  Chapter 5

  AS THE DOOR to her room in The Calvert Vaux Hotel closed silently behind her, Vittoria kicked off her boots and dumped her shopping on the gold Dralon sofa, heading straight for the mini bar. The decor was pure Marie Antoinette, every piece of furniture based on something French, period and ornate. Gold and burgundy fleur-de-lis, scrolled chair legs, an eighteenth-century canopy over the bed. It was beautiful but all faintly ridiculous. It wasn’t quite the thirty-thousanda-night legendary Calvert Vaux suite – she couldn’t deny she’d been tempted when she booked, but even Marcus’s sins didn’t justify that type of insanity.

  It wasn’t cheap, though. She’d deliberately charged it to their joint card and he really wasn’t going to be impressed when he got the bill. But Vittoria really didn’t care. It was only two nights and she knew he didn’t scrimp when he was travelling and taking his girlfriend out to dinner. He’d never had to worry about money. His father had been a high court judge, and as a senior TransGlobal Airways pilot he had a very healthy salary and he got to choose which routes he flew, which meant that he never went anywhere cold – his routes regularly involved weekly stopovers in far flung islands that were very warm indeed. He complained non-stop about how the job had changed, about how everyone was working longer and harder and how it felt like a glorified bus service these days, but Vittoria was quite sure that he used his buddy passes and company discount to make sure he wasn’t stuck in paradise alone.

  She mentally kicked herself. She was such a fucking idiot. ‘Un fortutto idiota.’ She could hear her mother’s voice in her head. Her mother been as passionate and hot headed as her father had been stubborn. He’d hated the idea of his only daughter going to London, but her mother had always dreamed big. Thank God she’d died before the accident; thank God she hadn’t had to see Vittoria give up dancing.

  Despite everything, though, Vittoria knew her mother would have loved Marcus – he charmed every woman he met. Which was half the problem. Vittoria had been so busy getting over the accident, getting her degree and then setting up her business, travelling to London and New York and Los Angeles to establish her client base, that she hadn’t noticed how much time he was spending away. Although, when she thought about it afterwards, when she had finally realised that the non-stop texts to his phone weren’t work related, quite a few things had fallen into place. And it was like a guillotine had fallen on her whole world, slicing it in half. And that had been long before she’d hired the detective.

  Opening the tastefully disguised fridge, Vittoria selected a tiny bottle of gin and a can of tonic. The mini bar was limited, hardly enough to dull the day, but it was a start, and she could order more. She didn’t normally drink but now she needed it. She took a sip, savouring the bite of the alcohol on her tongue. The ice was missing, but right now she wanted the hit more than the cold. It had been a long day and she had a lot to think about.

  She’d landed, checked in and headed straight for Fifth Avenue, thinking that a bit of retail therapy was what she needed, but she hadn’t been able to concentrate properly on shopping.

  Her conversation with Lily had sent her head spinning.

  Her glass in her hand, Vittoria walked across to the tall window overlooking Central Park. She was going to have a long hot bath in a minute but she needed some time first to process everything, to get her head straight so she could focus. Focus on how she could get out of her marriage financially secure, but also, as Lily had summarised so well, how she could get payback.

  Marcus owed her everything.

  Below her, yellow taxis vied for space with limousines outside the hotel, the lush green of the park stretching far into the distance. She couldn’t hear the water from here, but sunlight sparkled off the jets from the fountains in the granite plaza, flashes of light dancing like nymphs high into the air.

  Reminders of her old life were everywhere here in New York, in the Stravinsky that was playing in the lobby as she’d heade
d through, in the blue sky and the sunshine, in the babble of accents around her. She’d been so focused on her dancing career back then that she’d hardly noticed her surroundings, but now she could hear the echoes, feel the memories like they were something tangible. She’d come to New York several times while she was at school, to train with different troupes, to see the great ballerinas perform.

  Ballet had taught her to be mentally tough, to focus, to strive for perfection. That same toughness and dedication had got her through the accident, got her a master’s at university and opened the door to her own practice. She was young but she was working with people she understood like they were part of her own psyche, people who knew she had been through the same process. Dancers faced the same psychological issues that interfered with any athlete’s performance – anxiety, injury, excessive competitiveness – but ballet had its special demons: a dancer’s body was the instrument; it had to be finely tuned but it was incredibly visible. Every muscle, every sinew was on full view to a theatre of thousands at every performance, and body image was a huge issue.

  A top dancer’s performance was as much about the mind as it was about the body.

  Right now, Vittoria knew she needed to summon the inner strength that had got her to London in the first place, the determination and drive that had seen her conquer her injuries and work out how she could get out of her marriage with her dignity and her bank balance intact.

  She just hoped she hadn’t used it all up.

  She took another sip of her gin and felt tears pricking at her eyes. It was partly physical exhaustion, night after night of broken sleep. She hadn’t felt properly in control since the night of the break-in. That had been less than a month ago, and then Phil, the detective, had told her about the baby. It felt like one thing after another piling on top of her.

  Vittoria jumped as her phone began to ring. Putting her glass down, she went over to the chair where she’d dropped her shopping and started to root though her handbag. The phone went silent just as she reached it.

  Aidan Kelly’s number flashed up on the screen. Smiling, she tapped the screen to call him back. He answered immediately.

  ‘Tori? Where are you?’

  ‘I texted you. I needed a break. I’m in New York.’

  ‘Your text said you needed some time out. What’s that supposed to mean? I’ve been calling but your phone was turned off. When I couldn’t get an answer at the house I thought something had happened, that there’d been ...’

  His voice faltered and Vittoria felt a flush of emotion for her husband’s best friend who cared more about her than her husband did. Not for the first time, she wondered what would have happened if she hadn’t been dating Marcus when she’d first met Aidan. And they’d become closer over the years. She couldn’t count the number of times she’d ended up crying on his shoulder – about the accident, about Marcus’s other women. She didn’t know how she would have coped without him in her life.

  ‘I’m fine. I’m sorry I didn’t call. I knew you were in surgery all weekend. Marcus is in London – he’s doing some training between flights apparently. Lots of meetings. I don’t think he’ll even notice I’ve gone.’

  She heard him sigh. ‘I was working but I was worried when I couldn’t get you.’ He paused. ‘God, it’s been mad. There’s never enough beds and I was in theatre for twelve hours yesterday. I had about four hours’ sleep and I was back on again.’

  She could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

  ‘I really don’t know why you stay in public practice. Nobody can work like that – it’s just mad.’

  There was a pause, his response weary. ‘You know why.’

  She did. Late one night as she lay broken and bruised in a hospital bed, Aidan had told her about his wonderful nerdy little brother, about how he used to help Aidan with his maths homework and knew everything there was to know about black holes. About how he’d been bullied at school for, well, everything – for being too clever, for having freckles, for being rubbish at sport. About how, one day, those bullies had shoved Danny so hard he’d fallen down a steep flight of stone steps, and he’d never got up again. Vittoria had seen the whole picture in slow motion – Danny tumbling and Aidan running across the hall to try and break his fall, arriving a moment too late, Danny’s neck broken, his young body damaged beyond repair. His voice had been little more than a whisper, but Aidan had told her then that as he had cradled him, helpless, tears hot on his face, he’d sworn to Danny and himself that he would never be so useless again.

  And Aidan had honoured his promise, working his way through medical school to become one of Ireland’s top orthopaedic surgeons.

  Vittoria cleared her throat awkwardly. ‘I’m sorry, you’re right. And you’re right to stay where people need you, where you can help the most.’ She paused. ‘I’m flying back to Dublin on Saturday morning – Marcus will probably want to do brunch on Sunday before he goes away next week. Can you join us? I might have to go to London myself next week.’ Her voice caught.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘What’s usually wrong?’ She paused. ‘It’s Marcus.’ It took her a moment to find the words. ‘His latest one is pregnant. Very pregnant, apparently.’

  ‘Oh, Christ.’

  ‘Those weren’t exactly my words but they’re close.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I had someone follow him. He’s been spending a lot more time in London recently and I just got this feeling. It’s not like there haven’t been others, but this one felt different.’

  ‘Have you told him you know?’

  ‘Not yet. I found out and booked the ticket here. I’m still processing it, as we shrinks say.’

  ‘You have to leave him. I keep telling you. He doesn’t deserve you.’

  ‘And lose everything? He could destroy my business – you know that. And after everything that’s happened …’

  ‘I know, I know, but … Who is she?’

  ‘Some TV actress, that blonde who’s in Lies. I need to work out the next move. I just needed a few days to think without seeing her face plastered on every bus. When I get back from New York I’ll be clearer. Marcus is going to Sydney next week; he’ll be away until the following weekend.’

  ‘OK. Keep in touch, though, will you? If you disappear, I get worried. We don’t need you adding to the victim statistics.’ She could hear a noise in the background, his pager going off. ‘Look, I’ve got to run, lovely. I’ll see you Sunday.’ He clicked off.

  Vittoria sighed. She didn’t want to be a statistic. And she certainly wasn’t ready to become a victim of anyone – in particular, her husband’s cut-throat lawyer.

  Vittoria shook her head, a wave of emotion and exhaustion washing over her, making her limbs feel heavy. Between the break-in and the investigation and finding out about Marcus’s latest woman, this Stephanie bloody Carson, she’d been running on adrenaline. She was physically shattered but it was emotional exhaustion too. At times like this that she wondered what she had done to deserve this level of bad karma in her life. From the outside it all looked so perfect, like a rosy red apple. But it was an apple that was rotten at the core.

  And look at poor Lily – she was in an awful situation too, and she was such a talented, lovely person who was trying to look after her brother, to work hard and make a life for herself …

  As she thought about Lily and this duplicitous Croxley character, Vittoria felt anger rising inside her. Lily was such an open, honest girl, obviously at the top of her field. She’d worked long hours to be the best, had been rewarded with this fantastic opportunity in New York, working for an elite brand – Vittoria knew exactly what that took, the personal sacrifice that being the best entailed.

  And a game of cards had apparently wrecked it all.

  And worse had almost lost her the brother whom she obviously adored.

  Vittoria was an only child, had often wondered what it would have been like to have a sibling to share things with, to watch o
ver her. She’d learned to be independent very young, resourceful and resilient; had learned that to get what she wanted, she needed to make things happen herself.

  Vittoria pulled back the heavy brocade curtains to look out at the broader view for a moment, watching the tourists gathering around the fountains, looking at the traffic below. New York was always so frenetic. But despite the changing scene, Vittoria wasn’t seeing it, she was completely absorbed in her thoughts. What amazed her most was, from Lily’s description, how similar the men who had caused all this trouble seemed to be.

  Edward Croxley and Marcus Devine.

  A con man and an adulterer.

  Two men who needed to find out how much damage they were doing and exactly how that felt.

  Edward Croxley sounded like he came from a similar background to Marcus: he had well-off professional parents and had attended a top private school. What was it in that mix that gave these men such a sense of superiority, an assumption that they could do what they liked and get away with it, that there would be no consequences? Because the conversation she’d had with Lily had been all about the consequences.

  Vittoria’s mind drifted back to the plane. She’d suggested more champagne; Lily had looked like she needed it. Perhaps the bubbles had helped Vittoria relax, or perhaps it was finally having someone to talk freely to, someone who didn’t know any of the players in the game, that had helped her focus. She hadn’t dared tell anyone apart from Aidan that she’d had Marcus followed; it was like his having an affair was a sign of her weakness, her inadequacy, and that made her even more vulnerable. But talking about it seemed to crystallise something in her mind.

  ‘I’ve really had enough now, but I’m not prepared to step back and give him a divorce, lose my home and perhaps my business. Too much has happened. That would be too easy.’ Vittoria had paused, her voice low. ‘I want him to feel the loss I’ve felt, the loss he’s caused. It’s his total arrogance that’s the problem, like your Edward Croxley – he thinks the law doesn’t apply to him either. They think they’re untouchable.’