The Secret She Can't Hide Read Online Free PDF Page B

that had almost driven Kate demented, but it had also provided a very useful distraction from the spiralling vortex of her own fears.
    Now they all came rushing in to fill the silence.

    With a shaking hand she picked up her phone, longing to hear Alexander‘s voice. Maybe that would remind her what she was doing this for. And stop her from packing her bags and getting in a taxi back to the airport.

    Standing in front of the mirror, Cristiano dropped the ends of the silk bow tie for the sixth time and swore viciously.

    No matter how many formal awards dinners and black tie sports events he‘d attended over the years it had never got any easier. It was as if the ridiculous thing had a mind of its own and was determined to show him up as an impostor—a boy from the back alleys of Naples. The boy in the second-hand school blazer, who couldn‘t write a line in an exercise book without smudging the ink or letting the words slide all over the page. The boy who would never amount to anything.

    Damn .

    Above the upturned white collar of his shirt, a muscle jumped in his freshly shaven cheek as his old friend despair wrapped him in its suffocating embrace.
    Damn Suki for coming up with the idea of this absurd and completely inappropriate party.

    Damn him for going along with it.

    Turning away from the mirror, he thrust his hands through hair that was still damp from the shower and exhaled heavily. Pretty much everything he‘d achieved in the last twelve years had been as a result of his need to escape his past, but he had always shied away from looking too far into the future. There was no point.
    His future had always looked dazzlingly assured, so he‘d lived in the moment, putting all his energy and his focus into making the most of now .

    Death or glory. Those had always seemed to be the potential outcomes for his life. He‘d either keep winning until he was ready to stop, or die in a ball of flame. This struggle with demons he couldn‘t see, didn‘t understand, had never occurred to him as a possibility.

    Yanking the tie from round his neck he tossed it onto the bed and walked across the expanse of gleaming wooden floor to the wardrobe—the only other piece of furniture in the huge room. He‘d bought the Art Deco villa high in the hills above Monte Carlo six years ago now, but had somehow never got round to furnishing it properly. In the old days before his accident, he had simply been too busy—travelling around the Grand Prix circuits in the summer months, away skiing or scuba diving or training out of season. And since the crash…

    Viciously he slid back the wardrobe door and dragged out the battered leather holdall that had accompanied him around the racetracks of the world. Since the crash it had been as if he was waiting, he acknowledged bleakly. Waiting for a thousand bits of jigsaw to fit back together again before he moved on with his life.

    Except now it was obvious that it wasn‘t going to happen like that, because some of the bits were missing.

    Maybe now it’s time to give yourself a rest. Take some time out to think. It’s the best shot you’ve got…

    Dr Fournier‘s voice echoed inside his head as he pulled clothes from the shelves in the wardrobe, shoving them into the holdall. He was used to packing light and packing quickly, and it took him only a couple of minutes to get together all the things he needed and throw the keys to the chalet on the top. At the first opportunity he was going to get the hell out of the party and drive up to Courchevel.

    As he zipped up the bag he allowed himself a twisted smile. For once in his life he was going to do as he was told. Because he intended to beat this memory loss and start winning again.

    Whatever it took.

    ¯Night, Mummy.‘

    ‗Goodnight, darling. Sweet dreams…I‘ll phone again in the—‘

    There was a muffled click and then a high-pitched tone that told her that Alexander had hung up already. He‘d sounded in great spirits, and