Page 5 of Awakened in Her Enemy's Palazzo

Now it was her sister’s turn, and it was almost a relief when Hope seemed mostly interested in this inconvenience to her own social calendar.

Grace leaned back from the computer screen as her sister leaned in so close that if she’d had a blemish it would have showed. It didn’t, because there was a reason her sister never argued when people complimented her on her perfect skin—shedidhave perfect skin.

Hope, with her supermodel looks, had perfect everything.

She also had the only man that Grace had ever loved.

Grace sometimes asked herself if shestillloved George...if that was the reason that she’d not had a proper boyfriend since him?

George hadn’t changed at all, except he no longer had the cute floppy fringe that Grace had fallen in love with, or the gap between his front teeth which her sister had insisted on being eliminated for the wedding photographs.

‘But youhaveto come home, Grace. George and I are having our weekend in Paris—you know that.’

Behind her, her husband waved and looked apologetic. He had looked apologetic when he’d told her he was in love with her sister, but that he still loved her justlikea sister. He’d seemed to think this would be some sort of compensation.

It hadn’t been.

‘I’ve been so busy with the new series. And in case anyone is interested, I’m exhausted—and George is simply off-the-scale stressed.’

‘I’m not really....’

His wife ignored him.

‘Grace, you promised to babysit. You know we can’t leave Artie with anyone else but you. He’s so sensitive. And, well, Aria is beingtotallyintransigent,’ she said, pouting as she referenced their incredible nanny. ‘I’m sure her sister would understand if she wasn’t there for the wedding.’

‘Sorry.’ Grace bit her well-bitten tongue. Artie with his sunny smile was gorgeous, and maybe theeasiestbaby on the planet, but she wasn’t going to be budged.

‘Hope, not everything is about you.’

This online defence came from a most unexpected direction—her mum.

‘This is a massive opportunity for your sister. She doesn’t have a career—’

‘I do have—’

‘She doesn’t have a partner. I think that she’s being very sensible to stay put and show she’s not a pushover. It’s a very good tactic to up the price. Try not to be such a people-pleaser, Grace. Stand up for yourself.’

Grace sighed. It was rare that she received approval from either of her parents, and the only reason she was now was because they had mistaken her motives. They really thought that her staying put was some sort of ‘possession is nine-tenths of the law’ negotiating move.

‘Good girl, Grace,’ said her father, looking just as distinguished as he did on the cover of his latest bestseller.

Modesty forbade him from mentioning that he had held the number one slot on the non-fiction bestseller list for eight weeks last year—well, not mentioning itoften...and then only casually.

‘Just don’t let this guy intimidate you. I’m looking him up as we speak. He’s brilliant, of course, but he’s got a reputation for being pretty ruthless and manipulative. I could come over...back you up...’

‘I don’t want a better price, Dad. I’m not interested in the money. And Salvatore’s death is not an opportunity—’

‘Of course not, darling. Take the moral high ground,’ her mother interrupted. ‘Sincerity issoyou. But a person has to be practical in life—especially someone with no prospects. You have no idea how much we both worry about you in the future, when we’re gone.’

The image of her energetic mother, who rose at five a.m. every day to work out and refused to allow white bread in the house, being on her last legs made Grace bite back a laugh. Her anger faded as her sense of the ridiculousness of the situation reasserted itself. She had decided a long time ago that she loved her family, and that the best way to cope with them and not fall out with them when they tried to be ‘encouraging’ was to consider them a comedy act: a very tall, good-looking, talented comedy act.

Sometimes she felt like a Shetland pony in a family of thoroughbreds...

‘I really don’t think that’s imminent, Mum. And as for taking care of myself—I left home when I was eighteen.’

The moment the words left her lips she knew it had been a bad move to bring up the still-sensitive subject of her leaving home.

Turning down a place at Oxford in favour of a place on a nursing degree course in London had not quite caused her family to disown her, but it had been close. She loved them dearly, but there was no doubt they were a bunch of high-achieving intellectual snobs. Though she also knew that if she was ever in any real trouble they’d be there for her.

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