Forgiven but Not Forgotten? Read Online Free PDF

homesickness and it surprised her. She’d left Italy never wanting to see it again.
    She’d spent many a night looking out of her window dreaming of another life—one without constrictions and pain and tension and always the unbearable pressure to act a certain way. She’d dreamed of a life full of love and affection. The only affection she’d really known had come from her sister—her poor, damaged sister. Their mother had died when they were both small girls. Siena had only the vaguest memories of a fragrant blonde woman who’d used to come into their room at night dressed in glittering finery.
    She realised that they were close to her street already, and she directed Andreas into the labyrinth of smaller streets that led to her home. He pulled to a stop and looked out incredulously at the bleak, lonesome apartment block standing on wasteground.
    ‘You’re living here? ’
    Defensively Siena said, ‘It’s near the tube and the bus.’
    Andreas was shaking his head in disbelief. He undid his seat belt and got out. Siena noticed that he’d taken an umbrella from somewhere and was holding it up now, as he came to her door and opened it.
    She got out and the wind whipped around her, tugging her hair out of its bun completely. Feeling flustered, she said, ‘Look, thanks for the lift...’
    She moved to walk around Andreas and go into the flats, but stopped when Andreas kept pace beside her. She looked at him. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’
    He was grim. ‘I’m walking you to your apartment. You are not going in there alone.’
    A new sense of pride stiffened Siena’s backbone. ‘I’ve been living here alone for months now and I’ve been fine. I can assure you that—’
    Andreas wasn’t listening. He’d taken her elbow in his hand and was guiding her across the litter-strewn ground. Irritation raced up Siena’s spine. This was exactly what her father had used to do.
    Once inside the main door, which hung haphazardly on broken hinges, and under the unforgiving flourescent lights, Siena pulled free, ‘This is fine.’
    Andreas was folding down the umbrella, though, and then he spotted a sullen youth lurking in a corner. He called the boy over and handed him a folded note and the umbrella. ‘Keep an eye on the car for me?’ he said.
    The boy looked at the money and went white, then looked back to Andreas and nodded his head vigorously.
    He took the umbrella before speeding off to stand guard.
    Siena didn’t like how the tiny gesture of Andreas giving him the umbrella made her feel soft inside. Churlishly she said, ‘It’ll be up on blocks by the time you leave.’
    ‘O, ye of little faith,’ Andreas murmured, and hit the elevator button.
    Siena watched as he grew impatient when the lift didn’t materialise straight away, and stood back to point at the stained concrete stairs. ‘It’s a cliché, I know, but the lift isn’t working—and I’m all the way up on the fourteenth floor.’ She couldn’t quite keep the satisfaction out of her voice.
    The light of determination was a definite glint in Andreas’s eye as he said, ‘Lead the way.’
    Siena was huffing and puffing by floor ten, and very aware of Andreas right behind her. When they finally reached the door to her flat she turned to face him. She felt hot, and the hair on the back of her neck felt damp with perspiration. Her heart was hammering.
    ‘Thank you. This is me.’
    Andreas barely had a hair out of place, and not so much as a hint of the effort of climbing up fourteen sets of hard concrete stairs. Although somewhere along the way he had tugged his bow-tie loose, and the top button of his shirt was open, revealing the top of his olive-skinned chest and some springy dark hair.
    Siena’s belly clenched hard. She could remember impatiently undoing his shirt buttons that night in Paris, ripping his tie open...
    Andreas was looking around the bare corridor. Someone was shouting in a nearby flat and then something smashed against