The women stopped their bustling. Stared at her.
‘What does it matter what you are?’ the stylist asked, one perfectly plucked brow raised. ‘We must dosomethingwith you. Perhaps your hair. It’s so...long. Cut. Highlights. Then you’ll feel like a new woman and want clothes.’
It was as if a hand grabbed Louisa’s throat and cut off her breath. She loathed the thought of anyone cutting her hair after her mother regularly had when she was a child, even taking to it with thinning scissors to reduce its thickness. To try and make her daughter look ill. Louisa had vowed that she’dneverbe subjected to that again. She stood, but the women completely ignored her. All nodded at the fine idea of changing her into someone else, and went back to talking amongst themselves.
The thing was, Louisa had accepted herself long ago. Mae and counselling had shown her that she was enough. And so, her mother’s barbed comments had dimmed over time. Why wasn’t she blonde, unfreckled, thinner, taller? Now, these women were a reminder of how others saw her. Tears burned the back of her nose. She didn’t need to be turned into someone else because some strangers wanted to squeeze her into a box that didn’t fit.
‘No,’ she said.
‘Come dici?’the stylist asked.
Even though Louisa couldn’t speak Italian the phrase was said in a way that clearly meant,What on earth are you talking about?
Louisa shook her head. Right now, she had to go. Today wasn’t fun. It was another kind of nightmare.
‘This is all a mistake. I won’t wear those clothes. I refuse to cut my hair. I want to go back to the hotel. We’re done here.’
CHAPTER FOUR
MATTEOSTRODEINTOhis suite. It had been a successful morning in all respects. Arriving in Milan, finalising the negotiations for another property. He shrugged off his jacket and tossed it onto a chair and loosened his tie. Undid the top button of his shirt. Rolled up his sleeves. It was only the afternoon—however, something had pulled him back here. He was keen to see how Louisa’s own day had gone. The first step in showing her all she’d missed in life, living with Mae. What woman didn’t love shopping for clothes? Milan was the perfect place to do that. Such a magnificent city with its combination of history mingled with modernity. Even though he’d anticipated her shopping trip would take most of the morning, perhaps she might have been able to do some sightseeing as well?
That thought piqued his interest—what she thought of her first foreign city. He glanced at the door that joined his suite to hers. Walked to it. Knocked. He was almost surprised when it opened, so he walked through.
Louisa faced away from him, staring out of the hotel windows onto Milan’s rooftops. Hair tumbling down her back in glorious waves of red. Still wearing a floral dress from a small boutique in the village near Easton Hall they’d managed to visit after the fire. Pretty, to be sure, but nothing like what she could find in this city. Though he was surprised the suite wasn’t full of packages. He’d been clear that money was no object in the stylist’s efforts. There was to be no impediment to securing anything Louisa wanted.
‘How was your day?’ he asked.
She turned. He expected a beaming smile. Strangely craved it, since Louisa hadn’t smiled once since they’d met only days ago. What woman didn’t deserve a little happiness after what she’d been through?
Except there was no smile. Her face a mask of almost forced neutrality.
‘I couldn’t find anything to wear.’
Impossible.He’d been explicit, and the stylist was an expert. Perhaps Louisa didn’t want to spend his money, although he’d tried to reassure her that she needed clothes. A couple of dresses and one hauntingly sheer nightgown were not enough. Even Louisa could see that...
Then he noticed. Her eyes, rimmed pink. Her nose, a little pink too.
Had she been crying?
He took a step forward, then another till he was close. She looked up at him, her lips trembling at the corners a fraction. Eyes bright with what he feared were tears. A heat boiled in his gut. He’d expected smiles, not sadness. He tamped the rising anger down. Trying to get to the bottom of what had happened. People did what he asked, or they paid.
It seemed someone would be owing him today.
‘Didn’t you see anything you liked?’
As he looked down on her, Louisa’s pupils flared wide. The green of her eyes seemingly more vibrant in this moment. Captivating, like the verdant grass round Easton Hall.
‘They showed me things I’d never wear. I tried telling them but they...’
She bit her lip as she hesitated. Took a jagged breath.
‘Tell me,’ he said, his jaw clenching. The way her eyes tightened, her soft pink lips turned down... Clearly today hadn’t been a good day.
‘The way those women looked at me. They didn’t make me feel beautiful. They wanted to cut my hair.’
A shudder tremored through her as a blaze of fury tore through his veins. Not beautiful? How could they not see? And how couldanyonesuggest cutting off her hair, that glorious river of fire? He couldn’t comprehend it.
Moisture pooled in the corners of her eyes. No. This wasnotwhat he’d asked for or envisaged. He craved to reach out, hold. Soothe. But why? Seduction of innocents wasn’t the game here. Showing her what she’d been missing out on in life was, and he’d failed. Spectacularly.
