Still Falling

Still
Falling

©
2012 Bella Costa

All rights reserved. This book or any
portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without
the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief
quotations in a book review.

All Characters in this book are entirely fictional
in both name and character.

First Printing, 2012

Bella
Costa

11-
WV10 8RJ

United
Kingdom

[email protected]

Chapter one

“Serena’s Dress will never be part of the
Spinozzi Label and I am not including it in the Line for Fashion Week or any
other Line for that matter.
 
Now take it
to my office and leave the subject alone!”

Those words had haunted Serena Taylor
for four years.

           
 
She stood barefoot now, on the cooling sand
and breathed deeply, savouring the heavy salty air, as the last rays of the sun
melted into the sea.
 
Closing her eyes she
let the gentle sound of the lapping water, the fresh sea air, and the soft
caress of the breeze, sooth her soul.
 
The
water washed up on the beach, taking the sand from under feet with soothing
rhythm.

           
Mmmmmmmm.
 
I
have soooooo needed this!

           
She
had missed her daily walk to the beach.
 
Recent
weeks had proven to be the hardest.
 
Serena and her mother had lived on the
Tramonto Estate since her mother had taken on the job as housekeeper.
 
Serena had been a cheeky, over confident,
five year old at the time and she had won the hearts of her mother’s new
employers.
 

           
The
Spinozzi family had been good to her and her mother, giving Serena free run of
the estate gardens and private beach on the South West corner of the Isola di
Procida.
 
Her Mother had tried to reign
her in out of respect to her employers but somehow little Serena had always won
over.
 
She had loved coming down to the
beach to admire the young Marco Spinozzi, only six years older than her,
swimming in the surf or fishing on the rocks.
 

           
Marco
was the family’s only child.
 
As a young
child, Serena had been drawn to him like a moth to light.
 
The corners of her mouth tilted upward as she
remembered the proper diva tantrums she would throw when he used his pet name
for her.
Pocco Zucco
.
 
How she looked anything like a little pumpkin
was beyond her.
 
Secretly though, the
thought that he had spent time thinking up a nickname for her had made her melt
inside.
 
Knowing he thought of her at all
was more than she could have asked for back then.

           
As
she got older, her sunset walks to the beach had become more purposeful and
without realising it, the evening constitutional had become a necessity.
 
Sometimes it was to unwind, put life into
perspective, muddle through a problem or just enjoy the moment.
 
Whatever the reason, she always left the
beach with her emotional batteries recharged and her mind reorganised.
  
By the time Serena had grown up and finished
her education, an early morning trip had been included in her daily routine.

She tensed
now as the memories progressed naturally to that autumn, when Marco had
dismissed her design so venomously, and ripped her world apart.
 

How could I have been so naive?

She shook off
the uncomfortable memories, choosing rather to focus on the peace and serenity of
the sunset, which the estate had been named after.
 
Taking one last cleansing breath to boost her
nerves she turned and headed up a flight of rough hewn, rock steps and around
the edge of the estates gardens, to the housekeepers cottage.
 
It was time to face her mother.

Marco stood
on the grand piano sized, flat rock which formed a platform sixty feet above
the small private cove.
 
His heart
squeezed tight in his chest as he watched the setting sun turn her auburn hair
into a blaze.
 
The effect was made all
the more intense by the breeze waving tendrils around her face like
flames.
 
From up here she looked so thin
and so fragile, yet still intensely beautiful.
 
Her bronze skin looked a little paler than he remembered. He imagined
this would only make the thick dark eyelashes frame her soft eyes even more
sensually.
 

He remembered
the first and last time they had made love.
 
She had still been so young, trusting and innocent.
 
His heart had melted at the knowledge that
she was his to guide and teach.
 
He was
even more amazed at her serenity.
 
She
had trusted him completely.
 
Serena had
accepted him and loved him back in a way no other lover ever had.

They had
known each other most of their young lives.
 
He had longed to know her intimately for what seemed like a lifetime and
then there she was.
 
Ready.
 
Wanting.
 
His.
 
And then a few hours later she ran.

He shook himself
back to the present.
 
Why had she come
back?
  
He knew he should walk away
now.
 
He was finally starting to move on.
 

He turned his
head to watch the last cusp of the sun sinking below the horizon. Anger started
to simmer up from deep inside.
 

“I will not
let her do this to me.” He muttered in frustration. A glance back to the beach
below told him she was gone.

Marco was
already running the Italian office of the Roberto Spinozzi clothing label when
Serena had finished school, and he had offered her an apprenticeship just in
time to start working on the new wedding line for the Spring/Sumer
collection.
 
Much to his amusement, Serena
couldn’t wait to prove herself.
 
Between
learning from the chief design teams, and acting as their general assistant,
she had secretly created a design of her own and had managed to convince
Gabrielle, Marco’s assistant, to include her dress on the rails with the other
designs for his inspection.
 
He had of
course known all along.
 
Nothing happened
at the studio that he didn’t know about.

Having stood
in for one of the models while still in school, Serena had known the
routine.
 
Marco would sit quietly, and
view each creation being modelled.
 
He
would then ask the models to run through their routines again while Gabrielle
announced which design team had created it and he would give Gabrielle
instructions to pass back to them.
 
Very
occasionally, he would be happy with the design, he would simply nod.
 
The design would be readied for show and that
particular team could start on a new project.
 
The teams with rejected designs had to go back to the drawing boards and
pin cushions, following Marco’s direction.
 
Gabrielle had warned him that Serena’s ‘secret
creation’ would be on the rails that morning.
 
He remembered his excited impatience to finally see the finished
product.

Walking
slowly, Serena knew she would have to allow the unpleasant memory which was
driving her to distraction, to play out so that for tonight at least, she could
put it to bed.

For the
thousandth time since leaving four years ago she replayed the day in her head.
 
Serena had been taking five in the coffee
room, flushing in the afterglow of her unusual breakfast tread earlier that
morning.
 
She remembered her added excitement
when Gabrielle had phoned, her asking her to come over to the inspection room
as her wedding dress would shortly be viewed.
 

She had put
her heart and soul into that design and had been so certain Marco would love
the dress.
 
It had been a hectic morning
as it was a big day for the design teams and as their run around assistant,
Serena had been sent on a thousand errands.
 

Running late,
she’d arrived at the door just in time to hear Marco slamming her design.
 
She had never heard him talk like before. The
tone of his voice was like acid. Was she really that bad?
 
Perhaps this morning when they had made love
for the first time, he had been disappointed by her lack of experience.
 
Did he dislike her that much?
 
Had Marco offered her the job out of
pity?
 
Perhaps as an
act of charity, for the ‘poor Housekeepers daughter’?

Maybe it had all been about
getting into her panties and now that he had, his true feelings were showing!

Using the
wall as support, she had stood outside the door, trying to gather her battered
emotions and tame the terror that threatened to overwhelm her.
 
For what seemed like ages the world had
stopped turning.
 
People moved around her
like shadows.
 
Voices and background
noise blurred into a single, indescribable, meaningless sound that competed
only with the sound of her heart, pounding out of control.
 
As the world came back into focus, Serena had
turned and run, unnoticed by the preoccupied teams waiting for their turn to be
slaughtered by Marco.

Against her
mother’s wishes, and desperately not wanting to face Marco again, she had
packed up that night and moved to Milan.
 
She knew her mother would not interfere or
discuss Serena’s whereabouts with Marco and she knew Marco would not ask the
hired help.
 
It had not been difficult to
take up an apprenticeship, with a smaller design house, which had approached
her a few months earlier and she had become really close friends with the
owner, Josephine.

Josephine and the Revel label are two very
good things to come out of this.

As she neared the housekeepers cottage that had been her childhood home, Serena
wondered what state her mother would be in.
 
By skirting the large landscaped garden, she hoped to avoid being seen
from the main house, but it meant stumbling through the semi-dark, along the
uneven, rocky path. She failed to notice the figure in the shadows, quietly
watching her progress.

She had phoned home earlier that day to warn her mother of her arrival,
but needing to compose herself before seeing her mother, she had headed
straight for the beach instead.
 
The
timing had been perfectly arranged to fit in with her favourite time of the
day.
 

Serena hadn’t yet figured out how to tell her mother she was ill, but she
knew her mother would suspect something was wrong, the minute she walked
through the door.
 
Taking yet another
deep breath as if all her strength lay at the bottom of her lungs, Serena
opened the door to the Housekeepers Cottage and walked in.
 
Her mother was cooking.
 
No surprise there.
 

She always cooked when either very happy or very upset, and judging by
the volumes of food already prepared, Serena’s visit home had really got her started.
 
Serena cringed inwardly hoping there would be
enough ingredients left in the cupboard, to keep her mother in cooking therapy
after Serena broke the bad news.

“There you are!
 
At last!” cried
her mother, waving her hands as if conducting an orchestra.
 
“I was beginning to think there more
important things than visiting your Mama.”

“Mama, please!
 
You saw me just two
weeks ago.”

“Yes, but in four years it has always been your Mama who has had to
travel to where air is bad and people are too busy to say hello, just to see
her little girl.
 
For once you are
visiting your Mama.”