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‘Or another blackout,’ he pointed out.
He placed the box on the kitchen bench, then moved to his laptop. He opened it up and logged into the phone’s signal, then straightened.
She looked so beautiful—so different from the images he’d seen of her in the press. In those pictures she was always made up to within an inch of her life, her body bared for the world to see. Here, she was stunning, but in a completely natural way, her hair shimmering, her eyes enormous, her skin fresh.
He kissed the tip of her nose. ‘I won’t be long.’
She watched him walk towards the door.
When he reached it, he turned to face her. ‘Cara?’
She waited, her breath held, for him to speak.
‘Don’t go tomorrow.’
Another command. One her heart and soul wanted her to obey.
‘I’m sorry?’ she whispered, not sure if it was an apology or a question.
‘Don’t go. Not yet.’
She bit down on her lower lip and tears built at the back of her eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks.
‘Rafaelo’s waiting,’ she said in response, the words moist.
He nodded—a curt tilt of his head. ‘Si, lo so. And yet we need to discuss this.’
‘We will. But not now.’
Not until she’d emailed Cressida.
He seemed to take that as acquiescence. The smile he flashed her as he walked out through the door was filled with a confidence that bordered on arrogance.
And it made her heart swell even more.
She made herself a coffee—or a kip in a cup, as she liked to think of it—and then moved to his laptop. Even that made her smile, at how much it reminded her of him. She ran her fingertips over the case of the screen, her pulse tingling. She sipped her coffee and loaded up a browser.
Her inbox was full—little one-liners from her mother, a chatty email from Jack that filled her with hope that he was sounding more like himself again, and a few from Art, asking where to locate various files or emails.
She dealt with the business ones first, apologising for having been out of contact, then she opened up her Facebook profile. It was a time-waster she couldn’t afford. She’d peruse her friends’ holiday photos and new baby pictures another time. When she was back in England. When this was over and reality was intruding.
She clicked on to Cressida’s profile, marvelling as always at how similar-looking they were, and opened up a new message to her.
Hey, I hope you’re having a good time. Something’s happened here and...
And what? I can’t keep your secret? The secret you paid me thirty thousand pounds for? She groaned and deleted the sentence, staring at the blinking cursor.
She wasn’t afraid of Cressida. Not at all. But Matilda Morgan was honourable and loyal, and she’d promised Cressida that she would do this.
Was it Cressida’s fault that Matilda had fallen head over heels in love with Rio Mastrangelo?
Hi, Cressida. It’s Tilly.
Crap. That was even worse. She’d know who was messaging her! Matilda deleted it, then took a big gulp of coffee.
* * *
Cressida, we need to speak.
