Second Chances in Chianti (Escape to Tuscany Book 2) by T.A. Williams (online e reader .TXT) 📕

night? Might this invitation be a means of luring her to a tragic death, maybe falling off the top of the tower? She very nearly slapped her own face. What on earth was wrong with her? Of course he wasn’t a homicidal maniac! And of course she had nothing to fear from him. As for his connection with Fliss, she would ask him and he would tell her, and that would be that. This was just an invitation to dinner, and maybe more, although she knew in her heart that there was no way she was going to take things to the next level until he had explained in detail just who he was and what on earth was going on.

He must have been on the lookout, as the gates swung open before she had to ring the bell. She drove through and up the drive, parked alongside the old Land Rover and climbed out. It was comforting to find herself greeted by the rapturous Labrador, who jumped all over her as she emerged from the car. Behind Guinness was his master, looking decidedly… sheepish. Alice took this as a good sign. Of the many adjectives that could be used to describe a brutal criminal or a drug baron, she was pretty confident that sheepish wouldn’t have made the cut. He appeared more interested in studying his feet than looking towards her, so she marched up to him, but stopped short of kissing him. He had a lot of explaining to do first. She did her best to keep things light – for now.

‘Hi, Matt. You look miles away. Remember me? I’m the girl you invited for dinner.’

He raised his head and she saw a little smile spread across his face as he looked her straight in the eye.

‘I owe you an explanation.’

‘I rather think you do. At least one.’

Together, they went in and climbed the stone staircase to the top. It was all looking a lot tidier this time and she commented on it. In reply, he managed a hint of a grin.

‘Just don’t open any doors. I’ve been picking stuff up and slinging it into odd rooms to hide it. Now, first things first, I think we both need a drink. I’ve got some good champagne in the fridge.’

‘There’s no need for champagne. We just need to talk.’

He shook his head. ‘In fact, there is a need for champagne. I’ve just had some very good news. I’ll tell you all about it in a minute.’

He went over to the kitchen, produced a bottle of champagne from the fridge, opened it and filled two glasses. By this time the dog had stretched out at Alice’s feet and was rolling about on his back, grunting happily to himself while she scratched his tummy with her toe. As she took her drink from his master, she pointed down at Guinness, keen to break the taut silence that had descended upon them.

‘He may not help with the housework, but he’s a lovely dog.’

‘Like I said, he’s my best buddy. The great thing about dogs is that they accept you the way you are. They aren’t judgemental.’

‘And people are? Towards you?’

He didn’t answer. He just clinked his glass against hers and then sat down on the other side of the dog. He took a mouthful of wine and she could see him brace himself. She also took a sip and sat back, waiting to hear what he had to say for himself.

‘Like I just told you, Alice, I owe you an explanation. Once again, I’m really sorry for ruining last night, which was going so well. The thing is, I haven’t been completely honest with you.’ He stopped and corrected himself. ‘No, that’s not right. Everything I’ve told you about me has been true, I promise, but I just didn’t tell you the whole story.’

This was patently self-evident, but she just nodded and waited for him to carry on. She wasn’t going to make it easy for him.

‘You see, when I told you I was trying to write a book, that was true, but the thing is, it wouldn’t be my first book. I’ve already written one.’

He hesitated and Alice wondered where he might be going with this. She saw him take a deep breath.

‘I wrote the first one under a pen name, not my real name. The book’s called The Playboy and His Women. You’ve maybe heard of it.’

Alice was glad she was sitting down. Of all the different scenarios she had been exploring in her head over the past twenty-four hours, this certainly wasn’t one of them. He wasn’t a gangster. He wasn’t in witness protection. He wasn’t some sort of crazy attention-seeker with delusions of celebrity. He was in fact the highly successful writer of one of the most controversial books of the twenty-first century, the book that critics had called ‘a declaration of war upon the concept of love.’ She found herself gawping at him in amazement.

‘You are M. T. Landseer?’ She could hear the incredulity in her voice. ‘You’re the guy they call the destroyer of romance, the anti-Cupid?’

He nodded soberly and hung his head. ‘Guilty as charged, I’m afraid. M. T. Landseer shares my initials, but it’s a made-up name.’

Alice took another, bigger, sip of champagne and let her mind consider the implications of this confession. Here she was, sitting opposite the man with whom she would have been only too happy to jump into bed as recently as the previous night, only to discover that his intentions – as so eloquently described in his book – were almost certainly just selfish sexual gratification. She took another sip of wine but barely tasted it, an overwhelming feeling of disappointment settling upon her.

‘I see.’

‘You know the book?’

‘I’ve just finished reading it.’

‘Ah…’ He picked up the champagne bottle and reached over to top up her glass. She could see this was probably just to give him time to choose his words, and she took heart from the nervous expression