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Flora turned and looked up dazedly. It was one of the waiters.
Massimo stared at him coolly. ‘What is it?’
‘I have a telephone call for you, sir.’
It was as though a switch had been flicked. Flora froze as Massimo shifted in his seat, his jaw tightening.
‘Can’t you see we’re busy?’
His tone was so harsh she was surprised it didn’t strip the gilt off the salon’s golden walls. Glancing at Flora’s frozen expression, the waiter hesitated.
‘I’m sorry, sir. But there’s been an accident—’
Massimo’s face went white. ‘Is she hurt?’
The waiter shook his head. ‘I don’t know, sir—’
Massimo turned to Flora. ‘Wait here. I’ll be back as soon as possible.’
She’d barely had a chance to drain her cup of coffee when he reappeared looking, if possible, angrier than he had on the yacht.
She got to her feet. ‘Is she okay?’ She had no idea who this mysterious ‘she’ was but she could feel Massimo’s pain and she wanted to help him.
He stared at her, his features distorted with pure, blank-eyed rage. ‘Of course she’s okay. She lied just to get me to come to the phone.
Flora felt her heart start to pound. What kind of person would lie about being in an accident?
‘Why would she—?’
‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ he said coldly, his voice as flat and dangerous as black ice. She stared at him numbly, seeing the anger in his eyes and for a moment she hesitated. They’d already had a huge row that day. And some problems were just too big to solve. Like her father’s grief...
Her stomach tightened. She hadn’t wanted to deal with her dad’s misery or his over-protectiveness so instead of confronting him, she’d run away. Feeling something like shame or guilt prod her in the ribs, she lifted her chin. This time though, she wasn’t going to run away.
‘Tough!’ she said slowly. ‘You can’t just expect me to ignore this, Massimo. What’s the big secret? Why won’t you tell me who keeps ringing you?’
‘I’m not prepared to discuss it with you,’ he said roughly.
‘But you are prepared to have sex with me?’ she snapped.
Around them the room fell quiet. There was a moment of tense, expectant silence and then everyone began speaking at once.
They stared at each other for a moment, and then his eyes slipped away across the salon.
‘Fine,’ he said, his breath catching savagely on the word. ‘Have it your way! But not here.’
He grabbed her roughly by the hand and dragged her out of the salon. He was walking so fast she had to run to keep up with his strides. Glancing up at his set, cold face, she felt dread scuttle across her skin.
What had she done?
But it was too late for regrets. Pushing open a door, he pulled her through with him, and suddenly they were outside.
He stopped and dropped her hand as though it were burning him. Glancing round, she saw that they were on a huge, terraced balcony and beyond that there was nothing but darkne
ss.
She could hear his breathing—sharp, unsteady—and, turning slowly, she stared at his profile.
‘Who is she?’
