‘It’s not like I got mugged on purpose,’ I said through clenched teeth.
‘Fine,’ she said briskly. ‘But you’d better put these few days to good use. Do all the research you can. Every day is costing me profits.’
I gulped. I still hadn’t told her the worst of it. ‘There’s something else.’
‘What?’ There was a dangerous note to her voice. This wasn’t going to be pretty.
‘My bag… it had the laptop in it.’
There was a long moment of silence, then the whirlwind swept in. ‘Fuck. Fuck, Burrowes! Could you possibly be any more useless?’
I decided that now would not be the time to mention that I’d left the document, complete with all my notes and research, open and the laptop switched on.
‘I want that story, Burrowes. Finish it and get back here, and you can replace that laptop out of your severance package.’
She hung up.
I pounded my pillow into submission. No job was worth this. I was the one pursuing a possible murderer across Europe, getting mugged, copping shit from Nick, and all she could think about was her own bottom line. If everything hadn’t fallen apart with James, I’d call her back right now and tell her where to stick her job. But as it was, even if I still had my purse, I was down to my last credit card. And that one was only alive thanks to the loan from my parents. Besides, I was done relying on men to look after me. Well, I would be once I got my new passport, anyway.
I picked myself up, had a shower and put on a clean change of clothes. Nick opened his door as soon as I knocked, a smug smile plastered across his face. He had the power, and he was working it for all it was worth. ‘Where shall I take you tonight, Burrowes?’
‘Go to hell.’
‘Well well, they’re not exactly the words of a damsel in distress.’
‘I’m not a fucking damsel!’ I snapped, then took a deep breath and bit back another insult. ‘Look, could you just give me some money? I’ll pay you back later.’
Nick chuckled as he got his wallet out of his back pocket. ‘I dunno, beauty girl.’ He whipped out two fifty euro notes and waved them in front of my face. ‘I might just decide to pay you by the hour.’
Another wave of fury swept through me. I snatched the money from him and shoved him backwards. His laughter followed me up the hallway as I walked away.
I punched the ground floor button in the lift harder than necessary. Why did I always let him rile me up? I fell for his idiotic taunts again and again. Well, this was the last time. A hundred euros would get me through at least a couple of days, and I was way overdue for some quality Nick-free time. With any luck, I wouldn’t even have to see his face again until we left Rome.
But as I stepped out of the hotel and set off up the street, I couldn’t help thinking that the one time I’d got into trouble was when I’d been alone. I felt suddenly vulnerable out here on my own, with no bag and my pockets full of cash. Every car horn made me jump nervously, every shout had me looking over my shoulder to make sure no one was following me.
Following me.
I stopped in the middle of the footpath as the possibility occurred to me that it had been no random motorcycle mugging. The man in the cap knew I had been following Ford. What if it had been a premeditated hit, designed to hold me up and throw me off the trail? And it’d worked, because now I was trapped here and Ford was probably already on his way to Paris.
The idea that the subject was getting away from me again was unbearable. The more time that passed, the more likely it was that the story would find its way into the media and I’d miss my exclusive. Everything, from my own ineptitude to the situation with James, to Nick’s derision and Katrina’s insults, combined into one big misery sandwich.
The temptation to wallow was strong, but thinking about sandwiches made me realise I was hungry again, so I kept walking towards the centre of Rome. The sun was going down and the ancient buildings glowed rose gold in the falling light. The summer heat had lost its sting and the evening was pleasantly mild. I could have kept walking in this magical city forever, but then I rounded a corner into an open piazza and stopped in my tracks at the scene before me.
The Fontana di Trevi was one of the most stunning sights I’d ever seen. Bathed in golden light, the stone horses leapt out from the wall while the clear, cool water cascaded beneath them. Each exquisite, carved part of the piece looked as if it had been lovingly polished every day for the last two hundred and fifty years. Tourists swarmed over the steps before it, posing for cheesy photos as they tossed coins into the pool behind them. But my gaze slid over them, riveted on this masterpiece. I threaded my way through the tourists, drawn towards it in a daze, and sat down on one of the top steps.
For half an hour, I sat before it and watched as the setting sun suffused it first with pale gold, then orange, fading to pink and then deep blue as day became night. Finally, as darkness fell and the fountain was illuminated with white lights, I stood up to leave. I grabbed a quick, cheap pasta dinner well away from the tourist area, then strolled back to the hotel. The night had become
