Counterpoints: Book 2 Read online

  Counterpoints: Book 2

  By Laura Rossi

  Cover by Domenico Maiorano

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and places portrayed in the this book are products of the author’s imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  To my friend Susanna, for making sure I wasn’t going crazy.

  To my friend Carlo, for putting up with my nonsense.

  And to the love of my life, Luca, for being my partner in crime and for making me laugh every day.

  Prologue

  Isabella eyed the little side table, next to the couch. Her phone was ringing.

  She looked at the screen from afar, slowly, cautiously, like she was scared of touching it, scared of reading his name and hoping it was him at the same time.

  It’s not him.

  “Hi” she said.

  “Hey” Cristina’s voice sounded on the other side. “What are you doing?”

  “Watching TV. Actually, I am cursing at the TV” Isabella changed channels, frustrated and hopeless.

  There was nothing on besides afternoon drama, love stories or romantic comedies.

  Even cartoons are starting to piss me off, with the whole prince-princess affair going on.

  “Why is that?” Cristina wondered.

  “There’s nothing on besides romantic crap” Isabella mumbled and changed channels once again, at the sight of yet another soap opera.

  Change!!!

  “In the TV’s defense, you are watching daytime” Cristina pointed out. “Honey, take some fresh air”

  “I have already”

  “By fresh air, I mean go out. Not just open the window” Cristina teased.

  “It’s raining and I went out earlier” Isabella informed her friend.

  Even if it had just been a quick grocery shopping down the street, Isabella had still ventured out. For ten, long minutes.

  “Of course it’s raining. You live in London now” Cristina stood up from the desk and walked to the window of her office. It was sunny and warm in Rome.

  And she kept it to herself “Go out, talk to someone”

  “I have already” Isabella whined.

  I talked to the cashier at the supermarket, that counts. Right?

  “Besides, I am the victim of a conspiracy here, I am trying to keep away from people”

  “What conspiracy?” Cristina asked, clueless of what her friend was on about.

  “The love is all around you conspiracy” Isabella said, mumbling the last part.

  “The what?” Cristina insisted.

  “You obviously have been happy and in love for a long time to remember, but the conspiracy goes something like this: if you just broke up with someone, if your date stood you up, if you have just been cheated on…”

  “Okay, I get it”

  “Love will be all around you, in the form of movies, videos, people kissing in the street…” Isabella went on, as she dipped her spoon in the big, half empty, vanilla ice cream cup that rested on her lap.

  “Honey, are you okay?” Cristina asked.

  “I am, I am. I am okay” Isabella nodded, as if her friend could see her.

  “Really?”

  “No, I am not” Isabella let out a sigh and changed channels again.

  She heard Cristina mumble something under her breath, something incomprehensible and ugly, and then she spoke up again.

  “He’s a wanker” she declared.

  “You said he was a hottie last time we met in Rome” Isabella couldn’t hold back a snicker.

  “Well, I’ve changed my mind now. He’s a wanker. It’s final. I hate to hear you like this” Cristina said and listened to her friend sigh again on the other side, her chest heavy at the sound.

  “You know the worst part of it all is that I am not angry at him. I am not. I don’t hate him. It’s really my fault. I am pissed at myself, for believing the lies, not his lies, my lies. I knew this would happen, I knew what he was like” Isabella covered her eyes and paused. “I must have hit my head hard somewhere and forgot all about it. I am an idiot”

  “Stop, right now” Cristina’s voice rumbled in her ears. “Okay, you need to listen to me darling, otherwise I will have to get on a plane and drag you out myself”

  Knowing her since University, Isabella knew Cristina was capable of doing that, the dragging her out and much more. Anything to get her friend back up on her feet.

  Even though she felt terrible, Isabella couldn’t suppress a smile.

  “I miss you so much”

  “Aw, I miss you too” Cristina said. “Did I already say he’s a wanker?”

  “I think you did” Isabella let out a laugh.

  “It’s never too much” Cristina said and laughed a little herself. “Just switch off the TV and go for a walk, please”

  “Okay, okay” Isabella gave in and did as she was told.

  Sucks anyway. Where are all the zombie movies- heads falling off, terror and blood- when you need them?

  “I am taking my jacket and I am off to the cinema, happy?” she added.

  “I was thinking more of a pub, where you could socialize” Cristina frowned.

  “I am going out tonight, with a friend” Isabella said while slipping on a light blue jean jacket.

  Hillary.

  She dreaded meeting up with Hillary. Seeing her – one on one- after what she had discovered about her boss in Cannes, scared her even more than their first encounter- the day of the interview. Back then, she had dreaded meeting her for a different reason- hoping to make a good impression and get the job.

  Whereas, going out with Hillary that night, meant one thing and one thing only.

  Isabella had to master the art of lying. And she hated lying, not to mentioned she was terrible at it.

  Hillary was totally unaware of what had been going on between her and Christopher, she didn’t know why Isabella had gone home straight after the Charity Event two days ago.

  Isabella had called in sick, that was all she knew and Isabella had to keep her façade going, if she didn’t want to get busted.

  “And is this an imaginary friend?” Cristina teased and Isabella giggled, the sound of her laughter so wonderful and relieving, Cristina let out a deep breath.

  That’s my girl, Cristina thought.

  “I got to go now. I just hope there aren’t any lame, romantic comedies at the movies”

  “Choose a horror” Cristina suggested.

  “Or I could walk in one of the rooms showing a love story and just shout ‘they break up at the end’” she closed the door behind her and ran down the stairs.

  Isabella heard Cristina laugh hard on the phone, as she stuck her head outside the front door.

  It was still raining but it wasn’t as bad as before.

  It’s bad, but not like before. Isabella repeated those words in her head a couple of times and sighed.

  Time healed all wounds or so she had been told many times over the years. Why would this be any different?

  Why would Christopher and I be any different?

  Isabella said goodbye to her friend and made her way down the street, to the first traffic light where she could already see the big shopping mall with the cinema. It was just a short walk, the rain was thin and soundless, Isabella could hardly feel it on her skin.

  It’s not so bad, she said to herself, while crossi
ng the street.

  She spotted one of the side entrances of the building, just as her eyes caught sight of her own reflection in one of the big, bright windows of the shopping mall. What she saw, stopped her dead cold.

  A woman with pale cheeks and sad eyes stood there in front of her. She had wide, dark circles –despite the foundation on her face- and her stare was a little lost and scared.

  This isn’t me, Isabella thought and her fingers reached out for her cheek.

  In that moment it hit her, the reality of things.

  No matter how much she tried to laugh, to get back up on her feet, like nothing had ever happened, there was always going to be that one thing impossible to avoid, impossible to escape from – her sad eyes.

  This isn’t me, she thought again, when walking in the shopping center.

  She strode pass the cinema and picked up her pace. Isabella had changed her mind.

  She walked straight into one of the hair salons in the shopping center, instead.

  No, she didn’t have an appointment- she told the woman at the reception desk.

  But this was an emergency.

  “I’d like to cut my hair and maybe dye it as well” she said and gave one last look at herself, at her reflection in one of the large mirrors on the wall.

  Anything, Isabella would have done anything to change that reflection, that woman she had seen in the window.

  Chapter 1

  The bell rang and people started to get up, to make their way inside.

  Ten minutes to eleven pm, Isabella checked her watch. Last round of drinks, it was closing time for pubs.

  As she stood there, drink in hand, her eyes darted to a black sports car that had just rounded the corner, and her heart leaped.

  It’s not him.

  Isabella took another sip of her drink and sighed.

  I’m pathetic. Just stop, stop thinking about him.

  It was incredibly devastating how ordinary things reminded her of Christopher. It was her everyday life that hurt Isabella the most.

  And how do I escape from that? From my everyday life? She had no idea.

  Over the last two days, whenever Isabella had let herself smile and be happy about something- or at least not be her miserable self- out of nowhere, she had felt a stab in her chest, as if her mind refused to let her forget. And God only knew how much Isabella was trying to forget, desperately trying to forget everything.

  It’s like the entire universe doesn’t want me to forget, she had come to the conclusion.

  The other day she had felt a stab in her chest whilst at the bus stop, as she had spotted a man that looked just like Christopher walk beside her.

  Another stab, she had felt it across her chest that afternoon. It had happened right in front of a newsstand, when her eyes had spotted Giselle on the front page of a gossip magazine in a stunning, short designer dress at a London premier.

  Isabella knew it hadn’t been a smart thing to do- for her own sake- but she had picked up the magazine ever the same, to quickly scan the cover.

  The headline reported something like ‘Alone again’ and then a smaller section on the top, right corner of the cover about Christopher, walking in Soho at night with his friends that said ‘I’m single’.

  Stab, stab, triple stab.

  Maybe she deserved the stabs, the pain.

  Well done Isabella, for letting a man hurt you. Well done Isabella, for not listening to your brain.

  Yes, it was incredibly difficult not to think of him, not to think of the time they had spent together.

  She stared at the screen of her phone again and her eyes set on her message box. There were no messages from Christopher, none.

  Isabella looked up from her drink, desperate for some form of distraction, and met Hillary’s stare.

  Her boss was still on the phone, the silence between them had created a sort of void, enough time lapse for memories of Christopher and her together to pop out in her head and torture her.

  It had been two whole days without him. Two whole days of unmade phone calls, two whole days of unsent text messages.

  Isabella had been on the verge of writing to him several times, to tell him he was an asshole. At times, she had been on the verge of telling him how much she missed him.

  It was so disorientating, how she dreaded and craved the idea of him reaching out for her.

  She had told him not to call, just after the Charity Event.

  She had told him not to bother showing up at her place, when he had insisted she should listen to him.

  From that moment onwards, they would be just colleagues, not friends, not lovers, just colleagues. The sort of colleagues that didn’t meet up after working hours.

  He had nodded then, his face dark and Isabella had gotten what she had wanted.

  No phone calls, no contact with him whatsoever.

  Is this what you want, Isabella? Not speak to him?

  She sighed again and touched her forehead.

  The whole relationship with him had been incredible.

  The relationship was incredible, unbelievable. And I was incredibly stupid to think it would last!

  How could it have worked anyway? Christopher was a party boy, a ladies’ man- no dating, no strings attached.

  And now, living the aftermath of their relationship, she felt like she had gone through a storm and it had left her with nothing, only with wounds hard to mend.

  I certainly look like I’ve been through one, through a storm.

  Mirrors didn’t lie.

  Mirrors are honest.

  Her face was pale, she looked stranded, to the point she looked ill.

  She caught Hillary looking up and down at her a couple of times and Isabella swore she saw worry in her manager’s eyes.

  I look the way I feel.

  Isabella blocked her thoughts – her mind guarding her feelings – and looked around.

  The sky was an incredible light blue. It was amazing. It was so late but the sky wasn’t dark at all.

  Three months in London.

  London had been a pleasant, constant surprise. It had become her home.

  She had been living there on and off, when she wasn’t working during race weekends, and it had started growing on her.

  England was incredibly beautiful in the spring time, with its deep greens and colored flowers in every park. Isabella couldn’t help but noticed how the colors seemed much stronger, brighter in London.

  Maybe it was because of the constant grayness the city was used to, that when it was sunny, everything looked ten times lovelier than on any normal day.

  “Sorry, I had to take that” Hillary apologized and put down her phone “As I was saying, I really like your hair, darling. It makes you look tougher and that’s a good thing. We need to look tough, too many men around us all the time” Hillary smiled and tilted her head to the side, studying her assistant’s face.

  Isabella self-consciously touched her short hair – that now barely brushed against her shoulders- and gave her a warm smile. Not the sad, empty, fake one she had been selling off to random people in the shops lately, but a real smile.

  What a little pampering does to women, she thought.

  It was better than therapy. Walking in that hair salon earlier that day – after seeing her miserable self in the window display- had been one of the best ideas Isabella had had lately.

  She had had a reality check, an epiphany. Maybe she couldn’t do much to change the way she felt for the time being, but she sure could do something for the way she looked.

  I’m done with the sulking.

  Isabella was now wearing her hair straight, her bangs to the side, in a long bob haircut that gave her a more sophisticated look. Isabella’s summer dark blonde highlights were gone, her hair was back to its natural color- a warm, chestnut brown.

  Her new look made her feel better, in control, back on track.

  Must be also because of all the shoes and dresses I bought yesterday.

  “
Thank you. They look nice now, but I don’t know once I wash them myself and my curls are back…” Isabella kept on smiling and self-consciously put a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

  Just like Christopher used to do, the thought stopped her cold. Stab.

  “What’s wrong with your curls? I love them” Hillary paused “Would you like one?” she asked holding up her packet. Then she took a drag of her cigarette.

  “No, thanks I don’t smoke” Isabella smiled again, but this time it didn’t reach her eyes. Christopher’s ghost was back, wandering inside her head.

  “I am sorry we didn’t get a chance to do this the other night, after the charity event” Isabella began to say “But I was so tired and still a little ill. I went home as soon as it was all over”

  Lie, lie. Isabella thought and willed herself to sound convincing.

  “No worries. I totally understand” Hillary took another drag and looked at Isabella carefully. “Rest, darling. Toronto is next week”

  A lump formed in Isabella’s throat.

  How in the hell was she going to avoid being alone with Christopher next race weekend? She felt a sudden heaviness in her chest, every time she inhaled.

  The same heaviness she had felt seeing the pictures on that stupid tabloid. Pictures of Christopher kissing Giselle.

  I can do it, man up. Isabella straightened her back.

  “Yes, Toronto” she told her boss, avoiding her stare.

  “What’s going on, Isabella?”

  “It’s nothing” she tried to minimize.

  Nothing, nothing. Liar.

  “Are you ill?”

  “No, no I’m okay now”

  “Right, I think I know what this is about… I’ll talk then” Hillary told her.

  Oh no, Isabella thought.

  Her eyes grew wide and she swallowed hard, panic making her mind cloudy.

  Maybe she hadn’t been so good at hiding her relationship with Christopher, maybe it was all out in the open now. Maybe Christopher had said something to Hillary.

  Now that It’s over…

  “I know this is about what you saw in that alleyway…I’m sorry you saw me and Alfred, I’m the one who should be embarrassed here” Hillary started to say.