This week is picture prompt week, and I'm jumping well forward in my wip, and setting my heroine and hero on the beach.
Escape became essential to Samantha. The further
away the better. Preferably abroad. Bbut with the ongoing police investigation
all she could contemplate in her immediate future was the loathing in her eyes
every time Adele looked at her. Had Adele known the truth all this time? If so,
in Samantha’s eyes that made her an accessory to the fact, whether before the
fact, or after, mattered little to her. It was the knowledge that the woman who’d
always shown her kindness had been party to, and benefitted from the theft of
her inheritance. And now she acted as if Samantha was the villain of the peace.
The audacity of it.
From Adrian she’d expected nothing less than the
vitriolic attack, from his wife, her step-mother, well no; it turned out she
wasn’t even that. The one truth Adrian had uttered in his whole life was about
his status as her parent.
She needed a hug and could only think of one
person whose arms would fit round her so perfectly, but Rafe was in Italy
consulting with his father. Guilt ripped through her. She’d been instrumental
in exposing his step-bother’s actions. How could she turn to Enzo’s son for
comfort when she’d caused so much grief to his family?
The beach. Never mind a December gale was blowing;
walking on the beach always comforted her. Without a second thought she shot
through the house turning off light, collecting her bag, coat and car keys and
slammed the front door behind her.
Fifty minutes later, with the evening sun glowing golden
on the waves racing up the shore, Samantha bent down, tugged off her shoes and stood
upright to see Rafe standing yards away dong the same.
“What—”
“I saw you leave and followed you. What else could
I do?”
