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The huge arched oak entrance doors led directly into a discreetly lit womb-warm lobby. The carpets were the kind you sank into, in various shades of red, and provided a mellow counterpoint to the carved wood panelling. Oil paintings lined the walls and there was a grand piano under the curve of the stairs. The glint of crystal and newly polished brass was the only ornament she could see apart from the profusion of fresh flowers in strategically placed vases.
‘Do you like it?’ Ramon asked when he had collected his key.
‘From what I’ve seen so far, I love it,’ Annalisa said honestly.
‘I may add this to my portfolio of luxury hideaways,’ he confided as he steered her towards the restaurant entrance. ‘Luigi?’ he called over a red corded rope.
A man in his middle fifties, wearing the immaculate uniform of a maître d’, hurried forward from the hushed depths of the sumptuous room. Seeing Ramon, he came across to unhook the rope with a flourish.
‘Signor Crianza Perez!’ he exclaimed in a flourish of Italian-accented English. ‘What may I do for you?’
‘A discreet table for two.’
‘Certainly, signore. And for the beautiful signorina, a red rose, I think.’
‘Twenty,’ Ramon said casually.
The suave Italian didn’t miss a beat. ‘Certamente, signore. Delivered to your suite?’
‘To the table,’ Ramon said, shooting Annalisa an amused glance.
‘That’s really not necessary—’ Annalisa began.
‘Once again, Annalisa,’ Ramon informed her darkly, ‘you find yourself on my territory. And, once again, here I make the rules.’
They were sharing private jokes?
‘And the ladies’ room is where?’ she said, in case he thought he was getting it all his own way. ‘I’d like to freshen up.’
‘To the right of the reception desk, signorina,’ Luigi said with a curious glance at Ramon.
When the menus arrived, Ramon waved them away. ‘Feed us, Luigi. Give me a taste of the kitchen.’
‘Certamente, Signor Perez.’
The smile on Luigi’s face couldn’t have been any wider without doing serious damage to his dentures, Annalisa thought. And if their table had been attracting attention before, it was nothing to the interest shown now, as dish after dish of delectable antipasto began to arrive.
A vast bouquet of red roses had been expertly arranged in a vase placed on a stand beside them, and if she felt something of a mouse in her businesslike outfit, Ramon looked stunning. His dazzling film star looks and black designer suit with its scarlet lining set him apart from every other man in the place. To say he was causing something of a sensation was an understatement, she thought, noticing how many of the young waitresses found an excuse to bring something to their table.
So far there had been no further clues as to what had brought either of them to England, until finally he said, ‘There’s someone else I’d like you to visit tomorrow.’
‘Ramon, before you tell me, I must warn you—’ He looked amused. She stopped. ‘I mean it, Ramon. Are you going to listen to me or not?’
‘Not.’
‘But I—’ She should be warning herself, not him, Annalisa realised as his gaze gradually darkened into something sensual and predatory.
‘You want to warn me about Claudia,’ he said softly, dipping his head to stare into her eyes. ‘Right?’
‘Well I—’
‘I already know,’ he said. ‘It’s all in hand. Don’t worry. Leave it all to me.’
‘But what about—’
‘Margarita? I trust my brother to do what is right.’
‘The finca—’
‘Can wait,’ he cut in firmly. ‘Whereas I can’t,’ he said, maintaining eye contact until he was certain her frustration had shifted onto another track.
‘There’s more,’ she admitted hoarsely.
His eyebrows rose infinitesimally.
‘I…I owe you an apology.’
‘For what?’
‘For misjudging you.’ He wasn’t going to make it easy for her, Annalisa thought as she watched amusement start to tease the corners of his beautifully shaped lips.
‘Go on.’
‘I thought you were married—’ her throat dried completely ‘—to Margarita.’
He appeared to think about this for a moment. ‘Anything else?’
‘Well, there’s Enrique—stop it, Ramon!’
‘What am I doing?’
‘Stop looking at me like that.’
‘I like looking at you.’
‘But you like teasing me even better. Admit it.’
‘Guilty.’
