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Cristiano would have thought it obvious. “For talking to my enemy.”
Men in tuxedos and women in bright, sparkling gowns continued to dance around them, in a ballroom lit by gilded chandeliers and flooded with silvery moonlight.
“That’s how the world is to you, isn’t it?” Hallie said slowly. “Either a person is your enemy or your slave.” Her eyes were huge as she whispered, “You’re never going to change, are you?”
His expression hardened. “Hallie—”
“No!”
She ripped her arm away, leaving him alone on the ballroom floor. His illustrious guests were now staring at him with big eyes and rising glee. Of course. The only thing people liked better than heroes with enviable lives was seeing those lives fall apart spectacularly.
Turning, he followed his wife out of the hotel.
She was already halfway up the twisting street, climbing the hill. She meant to walk the mile back to the villa, he realized. Even in that impractical red ball gown and high heels. Most of the paparazzi had gone, but a scruffy-looking photographer was following a few feet behind her, peppering her with questions.
Cristiano’s whole body felt tight as he turned to the valet. “My Ferrari.”
The young valet got his car back in thirty seconds. Jumping into the sports car, Cristiano roared along the street and quickly caught up with her. He rolled down the window.
“Get in the car,” he barked. “Now.”
Hallie didn’t even look in his direction. She just kept climbing up the steep road in her high heels and red ball gown.
By now, the photographer had backed off and was simply taking pictures of them both. Cristiano ground his teeth. He had no doubt that the celebrity gossip sites would be full of stories about “Trouble in Paradise” tomorrow.
“Now,” he ordered.
She tripped on a rock, nearly twisting her ankle. Muttering under his breath, he pulled over, blocking her path with his car. Still not looking at him, she climbed in, slamming the door behind her. Without a word, he pressed on the gas, and the powerful engine leaped forward with a roar.
Everything seemed to have changed between them. She remained silent, seeming fragile, brittle. A side of her he’d never seen before.
The pleasurable night, which had seemed so bright and delicious, was suddenly lost. Entering the security code at the gate, he drove up the sweeping drive. The villa was frosted by the opalescent moon in the dark, velvety sky.
After pulling the car into the separate six-car garage, he turned off the engine. They both sat for a moment in silence. Then Hallie turned to him with sudden desperation.
“Could you ever love me? Could you?”
It was a serious question. He looked at her across the car. She hadn’t been trying to manipulate him, after all. She actually believed she loved him.
The thought chilled him to the bone. He had the sudden memory of himself as a boy, hungry and cold and pathetically desperate for love. Crying for it.
He’d never feel that way again.
“No,” he said quietly. “I will never love you. Or anyone.”
Her face became a sickly green. She turned to open her door. Stumbling out of the car, she rushed from the garage and onto the driveway, red skirts flying behind her.
“Hallie, wait,” he said tersely, slamming the car door behind him.
She didn’t slow down. She fled toward the villa’s gardens overlooking the sea, the skirt of her red dress flying behind her, a slash of scarlet in the moonlight.
He followed, reaching her at the hedge maze, with the eight-foot-tall, sharply cut hedges towering above them, luring them into the shadows of the green labyrinth.
“Hallie, damn you! Stop!”
Grasping her arm, he twisted her around, pressing her back against the hedge.
“Let me go,” she panted, struggling. “You—are a liar!”
