Are you bringing Alessandro? Bernardo was shocked. She was speaking in a voice that he hadn't heard in years. Maybe never. She was suddenly ice and daggers, and he was glad he wasn't in the same room with her or he'd have feared for his skin.

I'm not bringing Alessandro. He can stay here.

How long will you be here? He didn't even argue. He knew there was no point. Isabella was coming home. Punto. Period. Finito. And maybe she was right. It was time.

For as long as I have to be to whip you and everyone else there back into line. Now call Farnham-Barnes.

You're serious? He was truly shocked now.

I am.

Capito.

And tell them to get the penthouse ready. I'll stay there. Without further ado she hung up on him.

How dare you! Isabella marched into the tiny room and stood glaring at Natasha.

What?

How dare you!

How dare I what? Natasha looked at her in sudden terror. Isabella stood before her, trembling from head to foot, her face white as paper, and her hands clenched at her sides.

You set me up!

Isabella? You're not making sense! Had she cracked up then? Was the strain of the business too much for her? But as Natasha watched her, it was clear that she had something very definite on her mind. She sat down suddenly, eyeing Natasha, an evil smile of fury hovering on her face.

Let me tell you a little story then, Isabella said. Perhaps after that we'll both understand. Last October, after my husband died you know, Amadeo perhaps you remember him? Well, he died, the victim of a brutal kidnapping' .

Natasha stared at her. If this was madness, it was calculated madness, cold and furious, with every word dipped in bitterness. Frightened, she watched her. There was nothing to do now but let her go on.

He left me with his business, a large and successful couture house in Rome. We also do ready-to-wear, cosmetics, lingerie, I won't bore you with the list. I took over the business, worked my a.s.s off, and vowed to myself and Amadeo that I would keep the business strong, until one day our son could take over, in twenty-five or thirty years. But lo and behold, my right-hand man, Bernardo Franco, first proposes marriage. Natasha was shocked, but Isabella pressed on. And then announces to me that an American business named Farnham-Barnes wants to buy me out. No, I tell him. I'm not selling. But he pushes and he pushes and he tries and he tries. Unsuccessfully. I won't sell. So, miraculously, one day a phone call comes, telling me that my son has been kidnapped too. Only, fortunately, it is a hoax. And my son is fine. Bernardo then tells me that my life and the child's are not safe in Rome. I must leave, he tells me. So I call my friend Natasha Walker in New York, whom, as it so happens, he has screwed once or twice when she was in Rome. Natasha began to argue, but Isabella held up a hand. Let me go on. I then call my friend Natasha, who invites me to stay with her. An elaborate plan is concocted to keep me safe and to run the business from Natasha's apartment in New York. Wonderful. Bernardo tries once again to get me to sell to F-B and I won't. I fly to America, with my son, and my friend Natasha picks us up at the airport, with a friend in a very pretty Rolls-Royce. I then live with Natasha, I run my business, Bernardo drives me crazy, and every time he has the opportunity he bugs me to sell out. I still hold my ground. But I become friends with the man at the airport, Mister Corbett Ewing. Conveniently my friend,' she dripped venom on the words Natasha, invites me to join her at a film premiere. I go, and whom should I be sitting next to, but Mister Corbett Ewing, who only happens to be the chairman of the board of IHI, which owns Farnham-Barnes, which wants to buy me out. Happy coincidence, no? I then spend three months being pumped about my business, being courted, being primed by this monster, this user, this villain, who wants to buy my business and will apparently do anything to do it, including pretending to be in love with me, playing up to my child, and using my friends.' Natasha, of course, invites him over night and day and is thrilled when we fall in love.' And what happens then, my dear, do you get a commission from Corbett when he marries me and convinces me to sell to him?

Natasha looked at her in astonishment and slowly stood up. Do you mean what you're saying?

Isabella was like ice now. Every word. I think Bernardo arranged the hoax about Alessandro to get me out of the way, he used you to send me over here, and you saw to it that Corbett Ewing got close to me! It was all very handsomely done, but it's useless, because I will never sell out. Never! Not to Corbett, not to anyone, and I think what you all did is disgusting! Do you hear me, d.a.m.n you? Disgusting! You were my friend! There were tears of rage and disappointment in her eyes now, and Natasha dared not approach.

Isabella, I did nothing. Nothing! It was you who wanted to come here. You who wanted to go to that d.a.m.ned premiere. I didn't want you to do it. What do you think, that I tipped off the press? Oh, Jesus! She sat down again and ran a hand through her tangled hair.

I don't believe you. You're lying, like Bernardo. Like him.

Look, Isabella, please. I know this is difficult, and the way you tell it, everything fits, but it just happened that way, no one planned it, certainly not Corbett. There were tears running down her face now. He loves you, I know that. He was distraught when he found out who you were after the premiere. He came here the day after to tell you; he talked about it with me. He was afraid that something like this might happen. But he didn't tell you. I don't know why, but something happened that night that made him change his mind. He was afraid of losing you before he had a chance, and he hoped that if it ever came out, by then you might understand.

Understand what? That he slept with me to steal my business? I understand that perfectly.

For chrissake, listen to me. Natasha was sobbing and holding her head in both hands. He loves you, he didn't want to lose you. When he found out who you were, he told his men at F-B to drop their offer and never ever mention his name.

Well, Bernardo just did.

Was it a new offer, or was he still referring to the old one?

I don't know, but I'll inform myself about it when I go to Rome. Which brings up my only further question. You say you're my friend well, I have no one to turn to no matter what I think the truth is will you keep Alessandro for me while I go home?

Of course. When are you leaving? Natasha looked shocked.

Tonight.

For how long?

A month, two months. As long as it takes me. I don't know. And keep that b.a.s.t.a.r.d away from my child while I'm gone. When I return, I'll work out another arrangement. If I am not going back to Rome permanently, I'll find a place of my own.

You don't have to do that, Isabella. Natasha had crumpled onto her bed, crushed.

Yes, I do. She started to leave the room, then stopped for a moment. Thank you for keeping Alessandro for me. She loved Natasha. They had been through much together. No matter what the truth was.

Natasha was still crying. I love him, and I love you. What are you going to say to Corbett?

Just what I told you.

She called him then, and he was there an hour later, looking scarcely better than Natasha had when she was through.

Isabella, all I can tell you is that I tried to tell you so many times. But something always intervened. He looked at her, heartbroken, from a seat halfway across the room. He didn't dare to come near her. I'm horrified it came out this way.

You had to push and pump and prime and find out and dig inside my head for all you could learn about the house. Well, do you know enough now? It won't do you a bit of good, you know. I'm not selling, and I had Bernardo cancel all our dealings with Farnham-Barnes as of today.

There has been no offer from F-B to San Gregorio in over three months.

I'll have to check that out. But it makes no difference. You were smart enough not to make offers while you were courting' me, maybe you figured that I was smart enough to find you out. But then what? What did you have in mind, Corbett, to marry me and charm me out of San Gregorio? You never stood a chance.

What are you going to do now?

I'm going back to Rome and kick everyone's a.s.s right back into line.

And then what? Come back here to hide again? Why don't you bring the business with you? That's the only thing that makes any sense.

Never mind what I do with my business. You've already said and done enough.

Then I'll go now. But you must know one thing, Isabella. What happened between us was real, it was honest, I meant every bit of it.

It was a lie.

It wasn't. I love you.

I don't want to hear it! She stood up and smiled at him viciously, Nothing lasts forever, Corbett. Remember? Not even a lie. You used me, dammit! You took my faith and my heart and my body and my vulnerability, and you used me, just to add another notch to your corporate belt. San Gregorio. Well, you got me, but you won't get the rest.

I can't say I never wanted the rest. Before I met you, I did. But not after that. Never for an instant after that.

I will never believe you.

Then I'll say good-bye.

She watched as he walked unhappily out of the room. But she was already in her room packing when he waved his car away and walked alone, rapidly, head bent, back to his office.

Chapter TWENTY-THREE.

The plane touched down at Leonardo da Vinci Airport at 11:05 the next morning. Bernardo and two guards were waiting as she came out of customs, and the greeting she gave Bernardo showed affection as well as strain. She looked exhausted, having not slept a wink on the flight It had been painful leaving Alessandro, awkward leaving Natasha, and all she had wanted to do was get away.

She had cried halfway to Rome. He had betrayed her. They had all betrayed her. Bernardo, Amadeo, Corbett, Natasha. All the people she trusted. All the people she loved. Amadeo, by dying; Bernardo by his efforts to make her sell out; and Corbett she couldn't bear thinking of it. She wondered how she would begin again, how she would even function anymore.

As she came through customs with two small suitcases she looked tiredly into Bernardo's eyes. It was hard to believe that she hadn't seen him in five months. It felt more like five years.

Ciao, Bellezza. He thought as he looked at her that the five months she'd spent in New York hadn't been very kind. She looked frail, thin, and ravaged, and there were deep circles carved under her eyes. Do you feel well? He was worried.

Only tired. For the first time in twenty-four hours she smiled.

He could sense the strain in her all the way into Rome. She was unusually reticent as she gazed silently and painfully out the window of the limousine.

Nothing has changed much. He tried to make small talk. He didn't want to talk business in front of the guards.

No, but it's warmer. She remembered how cold it had been the night of her flight.

How's Alessandro?

He's fine.

Isabella longed to see the villa but she knew she wasn't ready to. Not yet. And she had business to do at the house. It made more sense for her to stay there. There was more to it, though she could only barely admit it to herself. Having given her body to Corbett, she hadn't wanted to return to the bed she and Amadeo had shared. Now she had betrayed him too. And for what? A ruse. A lie.

She felt her heart patter softly as they pulled up in front of the heavy black door. She wanted to cry out, but all she did for a moment was stare at it. Then she was out of the car and striding into the House of San Gregorio as though she had never been gone. No one had been warned of her coming, but she knew it would be all over Rome by that night. She didn't give a d.a.m.n. Let them haunt her, let them set off flashbulbs in her face; she didn't give a d.a.m.n about that either. Nothing would ever bother or surprise her, not anymore. Out of long habit she inserted her key in the elevator and pushed the fourth-floor b.u.t.ton as Bernardo watched her, stricken, unhappy.

Something dreadful had happened to her, he realized. She was dead inside. That pale, ivory face he loved so well was like a mask. He had never seen her like this, not even during those awful hours when they had waited, not during the funeral or even on her flight into exile. The Isabella he had known for years was no more.

From the end of the fourth-floor hall she walked to the door of the stairs to the penthouse, Bernardo following her up the short flight of stairs. It was then that she finally sat down, that she took off the black fedora she had worn, and seemed to relax.

Allora, va b+?ne, Bernardo?

I'm all right, Isabella. What about you? You've been gone for five months and you come home, and act like I have leprosy.

Maybe you do, she thought. She said only, Did you call F-B?

He nodded. It made me ill, but I did. Do you know what that will do to our figures?

We'll make it back by next year.

What happened yesterday? He didn't dare argue with her now. She looked too tired, too frail.

I learned something very interesting.

And what was that?

That a friend of Natasha's, whom I also thought had become my friend, had been using me. To buy the business. You may recognize the name, Bernardo. Corbett Ewing. I wasn't amused.

Bernardo looked at her, shocked. What do you mean, using'you?

She spared him the details. I never realized who he was. But Natasha knew, of course. And you did. I have no idea if you all concocted this thing together. I have no way of knowing; there is no way I ever will know. I'm not sure if that's why you insisted that I get out of Rome. It doesn't matter anymore, Bernardo. I'm home now. It's really Ewing who's the villian. The matter has been settled. I'm not selling. And I've made a decision that I should have made awhile ago. It has taken me some time.

Bernardo wondered what was coming. His ulcer twinged miserably, and he waited for her news.

I'm moving the main part of the business back with me, to the States. It had been Corbett's suggestion. But, remarkably, he'd been right.

What? How?

I haven't worked that out yet. The couture will stay here. Gabriela can run it. I can fly over several times a year. That end of the business doesn't need my constant supervision. The rest of it does. Otherwise it's impossible, it's too much of a strain on you ' and on me. She smiled again, but weakly, and watched Bernardo as he absorbed the shock. We'll work it out together while I'm here. But I want you to come with me. No matter what has happened, I need you. You've always been my friend and you're too good to lose.

I'll have to think about it. This comes as a bit of a shock. I don't know, Isabella' . But with her words she was only confirming what he already knew. He was only her friend and employee. She would never let him be more. And he realized something else. He was glad. She would always have been too much for him to handle as a lover. She was going on about her plans.

I can't live over here anymore, not with Alessandro. You were right about that. I can't take that chance. There's no reason why we can't run the entire international end from New York. And she hesitated again I've decided to take Peroni and Baltare with me, if they'll go. Of our four under directors they're the only two who speak English. The other two will have to go. But we can talk about the rest later. And I'll say one thing. She sighed softly and looked around. It's nice to see something familiar for a change. I've been d.a.m.n tired of being so far from home.

But you've decided to stay there. Are you sure?

I don't think I have a choice.

Maybe not. What about the villa?

I'll close it and keep it. That belongs to Alessandro. He may come back here to live one day. But it's time I set up a home for him over there. And it's time I stopped hiding. It's been nine months since Amadeo died, Bernardo. It's enough.

He nodded slowly, trying to understand it. Nine months. And how much had already changed.

What about Natasha? I gather then that you two have had a falling-out?

You gather correctly. She didn't volunteer more.

You really think that Ewing was trying to push you?

I'm as sure as I'll ever be. Perhaps you know more about that than I do. I'll never know that either.

It was shocking. She trusted no one now. She was suddenly bitter and cold. It made him uncomfortable and it frightened him.

What he saw in the next three weeks did nothing to change his mind.

Isabella made her announcements to the directors and checked every inch of the House of San Gregorio, going from room to room to office to stock room to desk to file, on every floor. Within three weeks she knew everything that was happening and all that she wanted to know. The two under directors she'd asked to join her in New York had agreed to do so, and she had decided to hire two American under directors to work with them there. The rest of the staff was being shuttled and divided. Gabriela was immensely pleased. She would be almost autonomous now in the couture end, overseen only by Isabella, who trusted her completely. But it was there that Isabella's trust stopped. She was suspicious, untrusting, and the greatest change of all was that she didn't even fight with Bernardo anymore. She was no longer an easy woman to work for, and she was suddenly a woman whom everyone feared. Her ax could fall anywhere. Her black eyes saw everything, her ears heard it all. She seemed to have gotten over her suspicions of him but she was distrustful of everyone else.

Well, Bernardo, where do we stand?