Unlocking Her Innocence Part 1

Unlocking Her Innocence.

Lynne Graham.

CHAPTER ONE.

CHRISTMAS. It was that time of year again. Not in a jol y mood, Vito Barbieri grimaced, his darkly handsome features hard with impatience. He had no time for it- the sil iness of the festive season, the drunken antics and the extravagance, not to mention the lack of concentration, increased absenteeism and reduced productivity from his thousands of sta . January was never a good month for the profit margins.

Nor was he ever likely to forget the Christmas when he had lost his kid brother, Ol y. Although three years had pa.s.sed the tragedy of Ol y's horribly wasted life was stil etched on his mind. His lit le brother, so bright and ful of promise, had died because a drunk got behind a car wheel after a party, Vito's party, where he and his brother had argued minutes before that fatal car journey.

Guilt clouded his happier memories of the boy, ten years his junior, whom he had loved above al else.

But then love always hurt. Vito had learned that lesson young when his mother walked out on her husband and son for a much richer man. He never saw her again. His father had neglected him and rushed into a series of eeting a airs. Ol y had been the result of one of those a airs, orphaned at nine years old when his English mother died. Vito had o ered him a home. It was probably the only act of generosity Vito had never regret ed, for, much as he missed Ol y, he was stil regret ed, for, much as he missed Ol y, he was stil grateful to have known him. His sibling's sunny outlook had briefly enriched Vito's workaholic existence.

Only now Bolderwood Castle, purchased purely because Ol y fancied living in a gothic monstrosity complete with turrets, was no longer a home. Of course he could take a wife and watch her walk away with half his fortune, his castle and his children, a lesson so many of his friends had learned to their cost, a few years down the road. No, there would be no wife, Vito re ected grimly. When a man was as rich as Vito, greedy, ambitious women literal y threw themselves at his feet.

But tal or short, curvy or skinny, dark or fair, the women who met the needs of his high s.e.x drive were virtual y interchangeable. Indeed s.e.x was steadily becoming nothing to get excited about, he acknowledged wryly. At thirty-one years of age, Vito was reviewing the at ributes he used to define an at ractive woman by.

He knew what he didn't like. Airheads irritated him.

He was not a patient or tolerant man. Intel ectual sn.o.bs, party girls and social climbers bored him. Giggly, irtatious ones reminded him too much of his misspent youth and tough career women rarely knew how to lighten up at the end of the day. Either that or they wanted a four point plan of any relationship laid out in advance. Did he want children? Did he actual y know if he was fertile? Did he want to set le down some day?

No, he didn't. He wasn't opening himself up to that level of disil usionment; particularly not after losing Ol y had of disil usionment; particularly not after losing Ol y had taught him how transitory life could be. He would be a very rich and cantankerous and demanding old man instead.

There was a knock on the door and a woman entered the room. Karen Harper, his o ce manager, Vito recal ed after a momentary pause; AeroCarlton, which manufactured aeroplane parts, was a recent acquisition in Vito's business empire and he was only just get ing to know the staf .

'I'm sorry to disturb you, Mr Barbieri. I wanted to check that you're happy to continue endorsing the prisoner rehabilitation placement scheme we joined last year? It's run by the charity New Start and they recommend suitable applicants who they ful y check out and support. We have an o ce trainee starting tomorrow. Her name's-'

'I don't need to know the details,' Vito cut in smoothly, 'I have no objection to operating such a scheme but wil expect you to keep a close watch on the employee.'

'Of course,' the at ractive brunet e declared with a bright smile of approval. 'It feels good at this time of year to give someone in di culty a new chance in life, doesn't it? And the placement does only last three months.'

More goody-goody sentimental drivel, Vito thought in exasperation. He supposed the applicant had paid her exasperation. He supposed the applicant had paid her debt to society through serving her sentence in prison but he was not particularly enamoured of the prospect of having a potential vil ain on the premises. 'Did this person's crime involve dishonesty?' he queried suddenly.

'No, we were clear that we wouldn't accept anyone with that kind of record. I doubt if you'l even see her, Mr Barbieri. She'l be the o ce gopher. She can take care of messages, ling and man reception. At this time of year, there's always room for an extra pair of hands.'

A momentary pang of conscience a.s.sailed Vito, for, astute as he was, he had already noticed that the manager could be a lit le too tough on her subordinates.

Only the day before he had overheard her taking the janitor to task over a very minor infringement of his duties. Karen enjoyed her position of power and used it, but he could only a.s.sume that an ex-con would be wel equipped to cope.

Ava checked the postbox as she did at least twice every day. Nothing. There was no point trying to avoid the obvious, no point in continuing to hope-her family wanted nothing more to do with her and had decided to ignore her let ers. Tears p.r.i.c.ked her bright blue eyes and she blinked rapidly, lifting her coppery head high. She had learned to get by on her own in prison and she could do the same in the outside world, even if the outside world was l ed with a bewildering array of choices, disappointments and possibilities that made her choices, disappointments and possibilities that made her head swim.

'Don't try to run before you can walk,' her probation o cer had advised. Sal y was a great believer in plat.i.tudes.

Harvey's tail thumped the oor at Ava's feet and she bent down to smooth his soft curly head. A cross between a German shepherd and a poodle, Harvey was a large dog with oppy ears, a thick black curly coat and a long s.h.a.ggy tail that looked as though it belonged to another breed entirely.

'Time to get you home, boy,' Ava said softly, trying not to think about the fact that the boarding kennels where Harvey lived could not possibly house him for much longer. During the last few months of her sentence Ava worked at the kennels-outside work was encouraged as a means of reintroducing prisoners into the community and independent life-and she was al too wel aware that Harvey was living on borrowed time.

She loved Harvey with al her heart and soul. He was the one thing in her life that she dared love now, and on the days she saw him he lifted her heart as nothing else could. But Marge, the kind lady who ran the kennels and took in strays, had limited s.p.a.ce and Harvey had already spent months in her care without nding a home.

Harvey, however, was his own worst enemy because he barked at the people who might have given him a for-ever home, scaring them o before they could learn ever home, scaring them o before they could learn about his gentle, loyal character and clean habits. Ava knew how big the gap between appearances and reality could be; she had spent so many years put ing on a false front to keep people at arm's length, believing that she didn't need anyone, didn't care about other people's opinions and was proud to be the odd one out. At home, at school, just about everywhere she went, Ava had been alone ...

Except for Ol y, she thought, and a erce pang of pain and regret shot through her as sharply as a knife. Oliver Barbieri had been her best friend and she had to live with the knowledge that it was her fault he was dead.

She had gone to prison for reckless driving but the memory of the trial was blurred because she had already been living in a mental hel and no court could have punished her more than she had punished herself. It hadn't mat ered that her father had thrown her out of the house in disgust or even that she had been advised not to at end Ol y's funeral and pay her last respects. She had known she didn't deserve pity or forgiveness. Even so she did not remember the crash. During it she had sustained a head injury and was left with memory loss, meaning she recal ed neither her fateful, incomprehensible decision to drive while under the in uence of alcohol or the accident itself. Sometimes she thought that amnesia was a blessing, and sometimes that only fear of reliving what she had done lay behind her inability to recal the later stages of that awful night.

later stages of that awful night.

She had met Ol y at boarding school, a trendy co-ed inst.i.tution with high fees and a fantastic academic record. No price had been too high for her father to get his least-loved child out from under his roof, she acknowledged sadly. Always made to feel like the cuckoo in the family nest, Ava was the only one of three children to have been sent away from home to receive her education. It had driven yet another wedge between Ava and her sisters, Gina and Bel a, and, now that she had truly become the prodigal daughter, there was no sign that anyone wanted to welcome her back to the fold. Of course her mother was dead and there was n.o.body left to mend fences or at least n.o.body who cared enough to make the e ort. Her sisters had their own lives with husbands and children and careers and their ex-con sister was simply an embarra.s.sment, a stain on the Fitzgerald family name.

Scolding herself for that demoralising ood of negative re ections, Ava strove instead to concentrate on the positives: she was out of prison, she had a job, an actual job-she stil couldn't believe her good fortune. When she had rst been recommended for the New Start programme she had not held out much hope of a placement because, although she had left school with top grades, she had no relevant o ce work experience or saleable skil s. But AeroCarlton had of ered her a lifebelt, givingher the chance to rebuild her life, with a reputable rm on her CV she would have a much bet er chance of rm on her CV she would have a much bet er chance of get ing a permanent job.

Harvey's tail dropped as he stepped through the doors of his foster home. Marge put on the ket le and shooed him out into the garden because he took up too much s.p.a.ce indoors. Marooned there, Harvey pressed his nose to the gla.s.s of the French windows in the living room, watching Ava's every move.

'Here ... pa.s.s this around tomorrow when you start your new job,' Marge urged, pressing a paper catalogue on Ava. 'A few orders would be very welcome and I've got to say that the work my lovely ladies have put in so far is exceptional.'

Ava glanced through the booklet of hand-knit and embroidered cushions, bookmarks, hat and scarf sets; spectacle cases, toys and even lavender bags, most of which depicted various cat and dog breeds. In an e ort to raise money to fund the stray and abandoned animals currently staying in her kennels, as wel as in local foster homes, Marge had set up a lit le cot age industry of animal-loving neighbours and supporters who knit and sewed. It was an impressive display of merchandise, nicely timed for the Christmas market, but, Ava thought rueful y, the ladies could have broadened their designs a lit le to appeal more to the younger market.

'I know you walked here for Harvey's bene t but have you got your bus fare home?' Marge pressed anxiously, her friendly face troubled by the tiredness etched in her friendly face troubled by the tiredness etched in Ava's delicate features.

'Of course I have,' Ava lied, not wanting Marge to put her hand into her own far from deep purse.

'And have you got a decent out t to wear tomorrow?'

Marge checked. 'You'l have to dress smart for a big of ice.'

'I picked up a trouser suit in a charity shop.' Ava would not have dreamt of admit ing that the trousers were a lit le too tight and the jacket unable to but on over her rather too generous bust. Wearing them with a blue shirt, she would look smart enough and n.o.body was likely to notice that her at black shoes were too big.

She would have liked shoes with a heel but beggars couldn't be choosers and it would take a lot of paydays to build up a working wardrobe. Once she had adored fashion, but she had given up that pursuit along with so many other interests that were no longer appropriate.

Now she concentrated on the far more important chal enge of simply get ing by, which came down to paying rent, feeding and clothing herself as best she could. The adventurous, de ant girl who had sported the Goth look-black lace, leather and dyed black hair cut short as a boy's-had died along with Ol y in that car crash, she conceded painful y, barely recognising the very cautious and sensible young woman she had become.

Prison had taught her to seek anonymity. Standing out from the crowd there would have been dangerous. She from the crowd there would have been dangerous. She had learned to keep her head down, fol ow the rules, help out when she could, keep her mouth shut when she couldn't. Prison had shamed her, just as the judgement of the court had shamed her. Much had been made of her fal in the local newspaper because of her comfortable family background and private school education. At the time she had thought it very unfair that she should be pil oried for what she could not help. Then in prison she had met women who could barely read, write or count and she had worked with them, recognising their more basic problems. For them, get ing involved in criminal activities had only been a means of survival, and Ava knew that she had never had that excuse.

So what if your father never liked you? So what if your mother never defended you or hugged you and both parents always favoured your sisters over you? So what if they label ed you a troublemaker in primary school where you got bul ied? So what if your mother was an alcoholic and her problems were ignored for years?

There would never be an excuse for what she had done to Ol y, whom she had loved like a brother, she thought wretchedly as she walked wearily home to her bedsit. Everything always seemed to come back round to the events of that dreadful night. But somehow she had to learn to live with her ma.s.sive mistake and move on from it. She would never ever forget her best friend but she knew he would have been the rst to tel her to stop tormenting herself. Ol y had always been wonderful y tormenting herself. Ol y had always been wonderful y practical and great at cut ing through al the super cial stu to the heart of a problem. Had he lived, he would have become a wonderful doctor.

'It's not your fault that your mother drinks ... it's not your fault that your parents' marriage is fal ing apart or that your sisters are spoiled stuck-up lit le brats! Why do you always take on the blame for everything wrong in your family?' Ol y used to demand impatiently.

Ful of antic.i.p.ation, Ava laid out her clothes for the next morning. Having been a.s.sured by New Start that her history would remain con dential, she had no fear of being seen as anything other than the new o ce junior.

She had learned to love being busy and useful because that gave her a feeling of achievement, instead of the hol ow sense of self-loathing that had haunted her for months after the crash when she had had far too many idle hours in which to dwel on her mistakes.

'You can make the co ee for the meeting. There wil be twenty members of sta at ending,' Karen Harper p.r.o.nounced with a steely smile. 'You can make cof ee?'

Ava nodded vigorously, wil ing to do anything to please and already sensing that pleasing Miss Harper, as she had introduced herself, might be a chal enge. Shown into the smal kitchen, she checked out where everything was and got busy.

At ten forty- ve, Ava wheeled the trol ey into the conference room where a formidably tal man was conference room where a formidably tal man was speaking to the sta surrounding the long table. There was colossal tension in the room and n.o.body else spoke at al . He was talking about change being inevitable but ... it would not be happening overnight and redundancies looked unlikely. His voice had a mel i uous accent that was instantly recognisable and familiar to her ears: Italian. As his audience shifted in their seats with col ective relief at the forecast, Ava poured the boss's co ee with a shaking hand. Black, two sugars, according to the list. It could not be Vito, her dazed mind was tel ing her, it could not possibly be Vito.

Fate could not have served her up a job in a company run by the man whom she had most injured. And yet she knew Vito's voice, the deep drawl laced with a lilt over certain vowel sounds that used to make her tummy ip as if she were on a rol er coaster. She did not dare look, would not al ow herself to look, as she walked down the side of the room to serve the boss rst and slipped right out of her too large shoes so that by the time she reached the top of the table she was barefoot!

Vito had glanced at the girl bent over the co ee trol ey, noting the ery hair glinting with gold and copper highlights wound into a knot on the top of her head, the delicacy of her pro le, the elegance of her slender white hands and the tight t of her trousers over the smal curvy behind that segued down into long slim legs. There was something about her, something that captured his at ention, something maddeningly familiar captured his at ention, something maddeningly familiar but what it was he could not have said until she straightened and he saw an el n face dominated by pansy blue eyes. His breath caught in his lungs and he stopped breathing, unable to believe that it could be her.

The last time he had seen her she had had black hair cropped short and the blank look of trauma in her gaze as if she couldn't see or hear anything happening around her. Ferocious tension etched harsh lines into the almost feral beauty of his strong handsome face.

Oh dear heaven, it was Vito Barbieri! Feeling sick from shock, Ava froze with his cup of co ee rat ling in her trembling hand.

'Thank you,' Vito breathed with no expression at al , his dark golden eyes skimming her pale shaken visage as he accepted the cof ee from her.

'Mr Barbieri, this is Ava Fitzgerald who joined the sta today,' Karen Harper advanced helpful y.

'We've already met,' Vito p.r.o.nounced with icy bite.

'Come back when the meeting is over, Ava. I'd like to speak to you.'

Ava managed to step smoothly back into her shoes on her way back to the tea trol ey. With the rigorous self-discipline she had picked up in prison, she served the rest of the co ee without mishap although her skin was clammy with perspiration and she breathed in and out rapidly to get a grip on herself.

Vito Barbieri-it was a horrible coincidence that her Vito Barbieri-it was a horrible coincidence that her job opportunity should turn out to be in his business. But what on earth was he doing at AeroCarlton? She had read the company website and there had been no reference to Vito, yet he was obviously the boss. So much for her big break! Vito wouldn't want her anywhere near him: he despised her. When she returned to that room he would tel her that she was sacked. Of course he would.

What else could she expect him to do? It was her fault that Ol y was dead so why would he employ her? He had been shocked to see her. The grim tightness of those lean, bronzed features had been unusual y revealing. Had he known who she was in advance he would have withdrawn her placement before she'd even arrived at AeroCarlton.

Vito, the bane of her life from the age of sixteen. She clamped an uneasy hand to the tat oo seared over her left hip where it seemed to burn like a brand. She had been such a stupid and impulsive teenager, she acknowledged wretchedly, deeply shaken by the encounter that had just taken place. None of the boys at school had at racted her. She had had to go home with Ol y for the weekend to see her dream guy. Ten years her senior and a ful y grown adult male with the kil er instincts of a business shark, her dream guy had barely noticed she was alive, let alone sit ing up and begging for his at ention. True, he had seemed a lit le taken aback by his brother's choice of companion, taking in Ava in her Goth getup with her dyed black hair and Ava in her Goth getup with her dyed black hair and mutinous expression. She had never stayed in a castle before and had been trying very hard to act as if she were cool with the intimidating experience.

'Ava?' Ava wheeled round and found Karen Harper studying her. 'You didn't mention that you knew Mr Barbieri ...'

'My father works for him and we lived near his home,'

Ava admit ed awkwardly.

The brunet e pursed her lips. 'Wel , don't expect that to cut you any slack,' she warned. 'Mr Barbieri's waiting for you. Clear the cof ee cups while you're in there.'

'Yes. I didn't know he ... er ... worked here.'

'Mr Barbieri took over AeroCarlton last week. He's your employer.'

'Right ...' With a polite smile that was wasted on the disgruntled woman frowning at her, Ava beat a swift retreat, nausea bubbling in the pit of her stomach.

Serious bad luck seemed to fol ow her round like a nasty shadow! Here she was trying to adjust to being back in the world again and the one man who probably wished that the authorities had kept her locked up turned out to be her new boss.

Vito was resting back against the edge of the table and talking on the phone in fast uid Italian when she reappeared. Nervous as a cat facing a lion, Ava used the time to quietly load the china back onto the trol ey but the image of him remained welded onto her eyelids: the the image of him remained welded onto her eyelids: the tailored black business suit cut to precision on his very tal , broad shouldered and lean-hipped frame, the white shirt so crisp against his bronzed skin, the gold silk tie that echoed his eyes in sunlight. He was breathtakingly good-looking and exotic from the bold thrust of his high cheekbones and strong nose to his slashing dark brows and beautiful y moulded sensual mouth. He hadn't changed. He stil exuded an aura of authority and crackling energy that whipped up a tension al of its own. Ol y's big brother, she thought painful y, and if only she had listened to Ol y her best friend might stil have been alive.

'Stop trying to irt with Vito, stop throwing yourself at him!' Ol y had warned her in exasperation the night of that fatal party. 'You're not his type and you're too young for him and even if you weren't, Vito would eat you for breakfast. He's a predator with women.'

Back then Vito's type had been sleek, blonde, elegant and sophisticated, everything Ava was not, and the comparison had torn her up. He had been out of reach; so far above her it had broken her heart. She had become obsessed by Vito Barbieri, wildly infatuated as only a stubborn lovelorn teenager could be, cherishing every lit le sc.r.a.p of information she could nd out about him. He took sugar in his co ee and he liked chocolate.

He supported several children's charities that dispensed medical aid in developing countries. He had su ered a chal enging childhood when his parents broke up and chal enging childhood when his parents broke up and his father took to alcohol and other women to a.s.suage his grief. He loved to drive fast and col ected cars.

Although he had perfect teeth he hated going to the dentist. The recol ection of al those once very much prized lit le facts sank Ava dangerously deep into the clinging tentacles of the past she had buried.

'We'l talk in my o ce next door,' Vito decreed, having come o the phone. He moved away from the table and opened a door on the other side of the room.

'Leave the d.a.m.n trol ey!'

That impatient exclamation made her hand shoot back from the handle she had automatical y been reaching for.

Colour ran like a rising ag up her slender throat into her heart-shaped face, ushing her cheeks with discomfiture.

Stunning eyes narrowed, Vito studied her, his at ention descending from the multicoloured topknot that was so unfamiliar to him, down over her pale perfect face with those big blue eyes, that dainty lit le nose and lush, incredibly tempting mouth and straight away he felt like loosening his col ar because he felt too warm. Memory was pelting him with images he had put away a long time ago. Ava in a lit le silver shimmery slip of a dress, lithe curves only hinted at, legs that went on for ever. He breathed in slow and deep. The taste of Ava's mouth, her hands running up beneath his jacket over his shirt in an incredibly arousing way. s.e.x personi ed and prohibited, absolutely not to be touched under any circ.u.mstances.

absolutely not to be touched under any circ.u.mstances.

And he had broken the rules, he who never broke such rules, who prided himself on his self-control and decency. True, it had only been a kiss but it had been a kiss that should never have happened and the fal out from it had destroyed his family.

Emerging from that disturbing ash of recol ection, Vito was tense as a steel rod. He would sack her, of course he would. Having her in the same o ce when he would not be moving on until the reorganisation was complete was inappropriate. Ut erly inappropriate, just like his thoughts. He would not keep the young woman who was responsible for his brother's death in one of his businesses. n.o.body would expect him to, n.o.body would condemn his reasoning. But quick as a ash he knew someone who would have done ... Ol y, caring, compa.s.sionate Ol y, who had once acted as the voice of Vito's unacknowledged conscience.

Ava moved unsteadily past him, bright head high, refusing to show weakness or concern. Vito was tough, hard, ruthless and brutal y successful in a business environment, wil ing to take a risk and y in the face of adversity, everything Ol y had never been. And yet that had not been the whole story either, Ava conceded painful y, for, macho as Vito undoubtedly was he had been so supportive of the news that Ol y was gay, admit ing that he had already guessed. Vito had suspected why, like Ava, Ol y was the odd one out at school.

school.

And she stil remembered Ol y laughing and joking in enormous relief at his brother's wholehearted acceptance.

A p.r.i.c.kling wash of tears burned below Ava's lowered lids and a ood of anguished grief gripped her for the voice she would never hear again, for the supportive friend she had grown to love.

CHAPTER TWO.

THE lm of dampness in her eyes only slowly receding, Ava shook her bright head as though to clear it and glanced around herself. The o ce was ma.s.sive with an ocean of wooden ooring surrounding a contemporary desk and one corner l ed with relaxed seating and a co ee table. Everything was tidy, not one thing out of place, and it exactly depicted Vito's organised, stripped-back style, the desk marred only by a laptop and a single sheaf of doc.u.ments.

'I couldn't believe it when I recognised you,' Vito admit ed flatly.

'It was just as much of a shock for me. I didn't know you owned this business.' Ava's strained eyes darted over him, absorbing the strong angle of his cheekbones, the stubborn jut of his chin and then fal ing helpless into the melted honey of his beautiful eyes. Eyes the shade of old gold, fringed by outrageously long and luxuriant black lashes. Her heart started to pound as if he had pressed a but on somewhere in her body and her mouth ran dry as a bone.

'What are you doing here?' he demanded sardonical y.

'I a.s.sumed you'd reapply to medical school once you were released.'

Ava froze, her facial muscles tightening. 'No-'