A cool breeze off the sea was blowing in her face, but she couldn’t shake the smell of the hotel basement. She closed her eyes, but the sun was still burning bright red through her eyelids. Forcing herself not to show any weakness, she looked ahead again, and was irritated to see Contessa di Santis coming toward her on the terrace with a concerned expression. “Everything all right, Signorina Alcantara?” “Fine.” “You look pale.” “I have a fair complexion. Always did.” The assistant nodded understandingly. “We can’t choose what we’re born with, can we?” Before Rosa could reply, di Santis turned to Trevini, who was guiding his wheelchair out of the hotel lounge and into the open air. Rosa thought this would be a good moment to throttle him from behind. “Can I bring you anything?” asked the assistant. “Drinks? A little snack from the kitchen?” Trevini shook his head. “Leave us alone, please.” Di Santis looked back over her shoulder, almost reproachfully.
