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‘I think whoever invented opera did it just to confuse good music and bad theatre.’
She remembered smiling when he’d said it, laughing at his teasing words, and then moments later falling breathlessly into his arms as he kissed her.
Tears rose in her eyes. How he must hate her! She could imagine him that night in New Orleans, coming back to the carriage house and finding her gone, imagine how he’d felt when he’d seen those pictures of her in the papers the very next day. What had he thought when he’d seen her in Vitale’s arms? What had he thought when he’d read about their wedding plans?
‘Gabriella!’
She looked up, blinking back the tears. Vitale was scowling at her.
‘Yes? What is it?’
His eyes moved over her face and he grimaced. ‘You look cheap,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Your mascara is smudged. Go fix it’
She nodded dumbly and rose to her feet. Ten minutes in the ladies’ room was like time off for good behaviour. Neither Vitale nor his omnipresent bodyguards could follow her there, but one of them always escorted her to the door and waited outside…
Oh, God!
It was James.
James, in the corridor, walking towards her, dark and handsome in a dinner-jacket.
There was a woman with him, a stunning redhead. His arm was draped lightly around her shoulders and he was looking down at her and laughing at something she’d just said. The woman was smiling, watching him through shining eyes, and Gabrielle felt a sudden, irrational hatred for her begin to grow within her heart.
Still, James was all that mattered. She could no more stop herself from calling out his name than she could change the love she would always feel for him.
‘James.’
It was the faintest whisper. She took a step forward. Beside her, her burly escort muttered something, but she ignored him.
‘James?’
Her voice was still soft, but this time her whisper seemed to echo across the corridor, growing louder and louder, and James paused, the smile fading from his face. He looked up, and their eyes met.
‘Gabrielle.’
His voice was harsh. They stared at each other in silence, while Gabrielle’s heart raced. A smile trembled on her lips. She longed to fly across the corridor and throw herself into his arms, to kiss his mouth and caress his face.
The bodyguard mumbled something and touched her arm. Gabrielle shook free of his hand. ‘James,’ she said again, while tears rose in her eyes.
James’s mouth twisted. Darkness grew within his pale eyes, and then he stepped away from his companion and moved towards her.
There were voices behind her. She heard footsteps, sensed Vitale’s presence, and then his heavy arm was around her shoulders, his cologne was gagging her.
‘Is this man bothering you, cara miaV
His husky voice sounded casual, but Gabrielle knew him well. There was steel beneath his tone, just as there was in the press of his hand.
She didn’t trust herself to speak. ‘No,’ she said finally, her eyes locked with James’s, everything is fine.’
James looked at Vitale, and a chill cut into Gabrielle’s heart. She had seen that look on his face before, the night the intruder had broken into the carriage house.
It was a look that said he was capable of anything.
‘Let go of her,’ he said softly.
Time hung in delicate balance. She felt Vitale tense, heard the shuffle of the bodyguard’s feet.
James took a step forward. ‘I said, let her go.’
His words were a silken warning. Vitale cleared his throat, looked around him at the plush surroundings of the opera house, and then his arm fell away from Gabrielle.
In one easy motion, James caught hold of her and drew her to him. She heard Vitale’s muttered oath, knew she would pay a heavy penalty for this transgression, but it was impossible not to move into James’s arms.
This one moment, captured from the web of time, was worth any risk.
A smile trembled on her lips. ‘James,’ she said again, and his arms closed tightly around her. She felt the hard press of his body against hers, smelled the clean essence that was his alone, and then his mouth was on hers.
But this kiss was unlike any they’d shared. James’s lips ravaged hers, his teeth bit sharply into her flesh. Her mouth opened at the pressure and his tongue probed for admittance, mimicking the act of love, making it into an act of vengeance instead.
The radiant joy that had been within her heart fractured into a million crystalline shards. James despised her, as she’d known he must. Tears filled her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. The salty taste of them filled her mouth.
She thought she heard James groan. His mouth seemed to gentle on hers, and her heart leaped. She moved in his arms and he caught her even closer to him. Yes, she thought fiercely, yes…
He thrust her from him with an abruptness that made her gasp. Her eyes flew open; she stared at him as he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, and then he gave her a smile so filled with hate that it drove the breath from her lungs.
‘You can have her, Vitale,’ he said. ‘What the hell, I already did.’
She fell back under the cruel lash of his words. Vitale’s arm curved around her again. Tears rolled down her cheeks as he led her through the opera house and out to his waiting limousine. He handed her in and she curled into the far corner, her hands pressed to her mouth to stifle her sobs.
Vitale’s rage was terrifying.
‘That son of a bitch,’ he muttered while the car sped through the dark streets, ‘that bastard! I’ll kill him. I’ll
cut off his ’
The cold promise in his voice roused her. ‘No,’ she said sharply, looking at his shadowy face. ‘We made a deal, remember?’
He stared at her. ‘He insulted me. No one does that and lives, Gabriella. No one.’
From somewhere came the strength to hold her head high and meet his threat with her own. ‘If you touch him, I’ll leave you.’
He laughed. ‘How? You’ll never get out the door.’
She drew in her breath. ‘There are many ways to leave someone,’ she said softly.
Silence fell between them, and then Vitale nodded stiffly. ‘What the hell,’ he said, ‘let him live. You’ll never see the bastard again anyway.’
Gabrielle lay her head back and closed her eyes. ‘No,’ she whispered, ‘I never will.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
‘Your gown is so beautiful, Signorina Chiari.’ The young housemaid’s voice bubbled with excitement. ‘I’ve never seen a train so long, have you?’
Gabrielle turned in the window-seat and stared at the girl. ‘No,’ she said after a while, ‘I suppose not.’
‘And the garden—have you been downstairs to see it? All the little lights they put in the trees, and the umbrella tables, and…’ She paused, then giggled softly. ‘Aren’t I silly? Of course you’ve seen it. Your window looks right out over everything.’
Gabrielle stared out of the glass again, and then she nodded. ‘Everything,’ she murmured. ‘All the preparations for the circus.’ ‘
‘For the…’ The girl’s eyebrows rose. ‘Well, yes, it’s going to be a big wedding, isn’t it?’ She ran her tongue across her lips and took a step towards Gabrielle. ‘Cook says there’ll be two hundred people here tomorrow. Is that so?’
Gabrielle leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. ‘Ask Mr Vitale.’ Her voice was dull. ‘I don’t know anything about it.’
‘Signorina?’ The girl hesitated. ‘Are you ill?’
The young voice, so filled with excitement a moment ago, was taut with concern. It took effort to open her eyes and force a smile to her lips, but somehow Gabrielle managed.
‘No,’ she said gently, ‘I’m fine. It’s been a long day, that’s all. I need some rest.’
The maid blushed. ‘Of course. Forgive me, signorina. You’ll need all your energy for tomorrow.’ She giggled again. ?
?It’s not every day a woman gets married.’
The door closed quietly, and Gabrielle turned toward the window again.
How festive the garden looked.
Lights, tables, flowers everywhere—a smile, a real one this time, moved, ghost-like, over her mouth.
Alma would never believe the flowers. Vitale had ordered things unheard of in this part of the world. Flowers had been shipped in from Hawaii, from the South Seas, some with names that were as exotic as their colour and foliage.
Alma. What was she doing on this warm June night? There’d been only some brief contact between them, once when Gabrielle wrote and told her she’d deeded the flower shop to her, again when Alma had written back, thanking Gabrielle for the unexpected gift. Her note had been polite, but beneath the very proper wording Gabrielle had sensed her friend’s hurt.
‘You could have told me the truth about yourself, Gaby,’ Alma had written at the end. ‘I thought I was your friend.’
Gabrielle sighed and got to her feet. She had no friends, not any more. She had only Tony Vitale— and tomorrow, she would become his wife.
A rush of terrible images tumbled into her mind. She saw herself walking down the aisle towards a smiling Vitale, saw his mouth move over hers after the ceremony, saw herself moving through the afternoon, Vitale’s arm around her waist, saw the door to his bedroom close after her and then—and then…
A sob burst from her throat. How would she live through tomorrow and all the tomorrows that came after?
Gabrielle stripped off her robe and got into bed. Sleep had become her benefactor.
