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‘Why not? It’s good news,’ Claudia asked.
‘Of course it is,’ Francesca said. ‘We’ll talk abou
t it more when we meet up. But first there’s the question of your dress, the flowers—’
‘I’m not interested in any of that,’ Claudia said shortly. ‘You choose the dress.’
‘But really, darling—’
Claudia snapped her phone shut, switched it off and tossed it back in her bag.
Her worst suspicions had been confirmed. Francesca had deliberately lied to her when she’d told her that Hector was dying. She lifted her hands and pressed them over her face, subconsciously trying to rub away the feelings of betrayal and loneliness that were swamping her.
She’d always known Francesca didn’t love her, or even like her very much. But she’d never thought her capable of such a cruel, unthinkable thing. Who could lie about something like that? Who would even want to?
Claudia didn’t think of herself as naïve, but now she realised that was exactly what she had been. Francesca and Vasile had obviously been planning to blackmail her for some time, and had concocted the story about her father’s illness being terminal to give themselves extra leverage over her. How inconvenient it must have been for them when they’d discovered his health was improving.
She’d been naive with Marco too. Maybe not at first. But when he’d appeared in London, and then in Wales, she should have sent him packing.
But she couldn’t dwell on that now. She still had to think about her father and what she could do to keep him safe from Vasile. If Marco really intended to keep her from the wedding, then she was in trouble. Or rather—her father was. Because then Vasile would carry out his threat, and take the evidence he had on her father to the police.
‘Everything all right?’ Marco asked blandly.
‘Don’t try to sound like you care,’ Claudia said. ‘I thought you were the one who was pleased we were finally being honest with each other.’
‘You’re right, I do appreciate honesty,’ Marco said. ‘I thought I detected some tension in your telephone conversation. I was curious what it was about.’
‘That was my stepmother.’ Claudia was beyond guarding what she said. ‘She wants to know what dress I’ll be wearing for the wedding. I told her to choose for me.’
‘You do seem to have left that decision a little late,’ Marco said. ‘Will you be saying your vows on the beach at sunset?’
‘You tell me,’ Claudia snapped. ‘You seem to know more than I do.’
‘Details of the wedding and following celebrations are rather sketchy,’ Marco said without expression. ‘I can tell you the name of the official who is booked to perform the ceremony but, apart from that, not much. I suspect limited cash flow might be causing a problem.’
Claudia turned sideways to look at him. It was rapidly growing dark—the roadside was lined with trees, which blocked out the final rays of light from the western sky—but she could just about see his face.
‘Why are you taking me to the Caribbean?’ she asked.
‘It’s where you want to go,’ he said. ‘You’ve just told your stepmother you’ll be there.’
‘It’s not where I want to go,’ she said. ‘And you told me you were not going to allow the wedding to go ahead—so why take me there?’
‘You’re right—it won’t go ahead as planned,’ he replied. ‘But I want Vasile to see you with me. And I want you to see what happens to people who cross me.’
‘I’ve already seen what you’ve done to me,’ she said bitterly, thinking about how he’d lied to her and made her trust him. How he’d humiliated her with her desire for him, even after she’d found out the truth.
‘No, you haven’t,’ he said. ‘I’m nowhere near finished with you yet.’
A cold shiver prickled down her spine and she turned her head forward. The sports car was speeding along the country road, hungrily eating up the distance to the city. Soon they’d be on the motorway and she’d have barely any time left.
The last few days had been overwhelming for her and she no longer felt any confidence in her own judgement. But suddenly she found herself considering telling Marco about the blackmail.
What more harm could it do? She’d believed Marco when he’d told her that he would not allow the wedding to take place. But, if she didn’t marry Vasile, he would turn her father in to the police. She couldn’t let that happen—protecting her father was all she had to cling on to in the mess her life had become.
‘It’s not my choice to marry Primo Vasile,’ she blurted.
‘We always have a choice,’ Marco said, keeping his eyes firmly on the road ahead.
