Castellano's Mistress of Revenge by Melanie Milburne Page A

her an unreadable look. ‘He does not yet have an office here, although I believe he is in the process of setting one up,’ she said. ‘He flew to London an hour ago.’
    Ava tried not to show how much the news affected her, but even so she felt as if she had been kicked in the stomach. Marc’s passionate attention this afternoon out at the pool had stirred her senses into a frenzy from which they had yet to recover. To hear from someone else he had left for London hurt far more than it ought to have. Was he deliberately showing her what he expected her position in his lifeto be? She was nothing more than a chattel, a plaything he picked up and put down whenever he felt like it. Business came first, as it had in the past. She was a part-time lover, a position she had sworn she would never be in again.
    He couldn’t have chosen a more effective tool to make her uncertain of him, to stop her from feeling even the tiniest bit secure in his life: making mad, passionate love with her one minute, leaving her to fend for herself the next.
    â€˜Did Signor Castellano tell you when he is expecting to return?’ Ava asked as Celeste brought in a tray with the first course.
    â€˜He said he would call you in a day or two,’ Celeste answered. ‘He left his contact details near the telephone in the library if you should need to reach him.’
    Ava drummed her fingers on the table once the housekeeper had left. She was determined not to call him. She was going to carry on with her life as if he had not barged back into it, issuing his commands right, left and off-centre as if she had no will and mind of her own.
    Â 
    The following morning Ava left the villa, taking her time over browsing in the shops, stopping for a coffee and a pastry before making her way to a beauty spa, where she treated herself to a wash and blow-dry of her hair as well as a manicure and pedicure. She was on her way out of the spa when she ran into the wife of Douglas’s business manager, a woman in her early thirties who dressed—and on far too many occasions acted—as if she were half that age.
    â€˜Ava!’ Chantelle Watterson cooed as she air-kissedAva’s cheeks. ‘You look absolutely marvellous. And no wonder, eh?’
    â€˜Er—well, I just had my hair and nails done, so—’
    Chantelle threw back her bottle-blonde head and laughed. ‘Droll, darling, very droll. I’m talking about your new lover. He is gorgeous and much younger than Dougie too, you lucky thing. I read about it in the paper. I am so envious, I just can’t tell you. Hugh is starting to show his age, not just in appearance, if you know what I mean. Not that I mind really—I keep myself occupied.’ She gave a meaningful wink.
    Ava ground her teeth behind her forced smile. ‘Hugh always looks wonderful for his age.’
    â€˜If it wasn’t for his money I wouldn’t stay with him, you know,’ Chantelle said in a conspiratorial tone as she slipped a too thin, too tanned arm through one of Ava’s. ‘But then, beggars can’t be losers, right?’ She cackled at her own joke before continuing, ‘I think it’s time we had a drink to celebrate your new life.’
    â€˜Actually, I have to get going,’ Ava said, trying to extract herself from Chantelle’s python-like hold. ‘Marc will be expecting me.’
    Chantelle’s green eyes glinted. ‘Liar,’ she said. ‘He’s in London right now with Hugh. It’s something to do with the takeover of Dougie’s company. Hugh was quite worried about it. But I suppose Marc doesn’t talk to you about business, eh?’
    Ava pressed her lips together. ‘There’s hardly been time to talk about anything,’ she said.
    â€˜Yes, well, Hugh told me Marc Castellano moves quickly when he wants something,’ Chantelle said. ‘But a word of advice, darling—men like Marc like