Unmasking Elena Montella Read Online Free PDF Page A

who lived entirely on a diet of coffee and cigarettes - never made a habit of introducing new members of staff to each other, so this was Mark’s chance to introduce himself. He made sure his shirt was tucked in and ran a hand through his hair. After quickly examining his hands for whiteboard pen, he was ready for action.
    ‘ Excuse me,’ he said, ‘can I help you? You’re new, right? I’m Mark Theodore - Upper Intermediate and Advanced.’
    ‘ Hello,’ she said. ‘Elena Montella. Elementary and Pre-intermediate.’
    He nodded and smiled. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen and that was saying something because there were some stunners at the school. Most of them were Finnish or Swedish with platinum blonde hair and summer-sky eyes but this raven-haired contessa arrested him immediately with her hypnotic dark looks.
    His ear, trained to detect any form of accent, told him that she was Italian.
    ‘ Which room are you teaching in?’ he asked.
    ‘ Room six,’ she said. ‘I haven’t found it yet, though.’
    He nodded. ‘That’s Geraldine’s old room. She was the teacher before you.’
    She nodded. ‘I hope the students won’t be disappointed at having me instead.’
    It was on the tip of his tongue to say, nobody could be disappointed at having you, but he bit it back and merely grinned. ‘Trust me - they will be delighted! Just follow me and I’ll show you where it is.’
    He led the way up the rickety staircase. There was an old banister rail lying on the first landing from the previous term, and paint flaked off the walls as if it were making a bid for freedom.
    ‘ It’s a bit of a tip, I’m afraid. The refurbishment is always “Next term”,’ he said, quoting Tomi who didn’t like spending the school’s profit on fripperies such as décor. ‘But it’s a nice room,’ he said, ducking his head to avoid a low beam and opening the door for her.
    She nodded and smiled and Mark smiled too because he noticed a pile of photocopied sheets on the table at the front of the classroom. Elena had already found the room on her own.
    ‘ It’s very nice,’ she said, tucking a long, dark strand of hair behind her ear, revealing the most slender neck.
    ‘ I’m in room three so I’m right underneath you,’ he said, and then felt his face heat up as he realised what he’d said. ‘If you need anything,’ he stumbled. ‘I’m usually around. If not in the classroom, then in the staff room.’
    She raised a dark eyebrow; it was the sexiest, most suggestive eyebrow he had ever seen and it made him wonder why he hadn’t noticed women’s eyebrows before.
    ‘ Then, I’ll see you around,’ she said and, almost banging his head on a low beam, he backed out of the room, feeling himself grinning like an idiot.
    Seven weeks later, they were engaged. Mark still couldn’t believe it. He’d never had a girlfriend for more than a couple of months at a time and yet here he was, an engaged man, planning a mortgage and a honeymoon. He felt the luckiest guy in the world.
    So, when she told him she was going to Venice for the Easter holidays, he was a bit surprised. He’d tried not to show his disappointment, of course; Elena didn’t like disappointment, and he knew that she had to go away and do some sister stuff. So, he shrugged. ‘Okay. Send me a postcard,’ he’d told her.
    The thing with Elena was that she was a free spirit; she didn’t like to be pinned down and he had no intention of doing that. She was as elusive as a butterfly: just when you thought she’d settled long enough for you to get a proper look at her, she’d flit away to another, more distant flower. But she’d never flitted as far as Venice before.
    Sitting on the sofa of a thousand stains in his flat, the thought of two weeks without Elena was unbearable. He walked over to the window, looking out on a wet afternoon in Harrow. It wasn’t very inspiring. He thought about Elena and what she’d be doing in Venice. Was it