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‘Non,’ he said.
‘So...you have family living in France?’
‘Non.’
The message in that second abrupt no was clear. Subject off-limits. Marietta bit down on her tongue—and her curiosity—and focused on the scenery.
Ahead, an old sturdy fishing vessel rode the ocean swells as it chugged slowly into the calmer waters of the harbour. Nico flew the chopper directly over the boat, low enough to see the broad smiles on the fishermen’s upturned faces. They raised their arms and waved and Nico waved back—and Marietta’s surprise lasted only a second. Mr Security Conscious would know his neighbours, she realised. Even a whole village of them.
They neared land and he banked the helicopter to the right, angling them over the port and the outskirts of the village. She glimpsed red-tiled roofs and open shutters on whitewashed houses, an old stone church and the crumbling remains of a sprawling derelict structure on the crest of a hill.
‘Where’s your home?’
‘Further around the coast,’ he said. ‘Twenty-five minutes by road from the port.’
The village fell behind them and she looked down, saw rows upon rows of pine trees extending into the island’s interior. It was lush and dense—much more fertile and beautiful than she’d expected.
‘Will you show me some of the island while we’re here?’
‘Perhaps. If time allows. We
have work to do first.’
She turned her head to look at him. ‘What kind of work?’
‘Questions and answers.’
Her brows knitted. ‘I don’t understand...’
‘We are going to dissect your life, Marietta. Day by day. Hour by hour. Minute by minute. You are going to break down every routine for me—everything you do, everywhere you go, everyone you meet—until we have ruled out the possibility that your stalker is someone you know or have met.’
A groan rose in her throat. ‘But I’ve answered all of Bruno’s questions. And yours.’
‘And you will answer them again,’ he said. ‘As many times as I need you to. Until I am satisfied.’
His tone was uncompromising and a shiver rippled through her. How ironic. Yesterday she’d spared a thought for anyone unfortunate enough to find themselves interrogated by Nicolas César—soon she would experience for herself that very ordeal.
Her mood well and truly dampened, she stayed silent for the rest of the flight, even stifling her exclamation of wow when she spotted the house perched on a high plateau above a steep limestone cliff.
Sleek, white, and über-modern, the expansive single-level dwelling might have dominated its surroundings. Instead, its simple understated design complemented the landscape, with acres of glass reflecting the sky and the rich, fertile land all around it. On the ocean side a flat terrace featured a large swimming pool, which sparkled like a sheet of cobalt glass in the sunshine. On the inland flank, a circular courtyard sat at the head of a long winding driveway which descended into a thick forest of towering pines.
Marietta surveyed the property as Nico set them down on a dedicated helipad a short distance from the courtyard.
It was, she decided after a moment, just like its owner.
Stark. Remote. And beautiful.
CHAPTER FIVE
‘ENOUGH!’
The shrill note in Marietta’s voice brought Nico’s head up. He laid his pen on the legal pad he used for old-fashioned note-taking and leaned back in his chair. ‘Take a breath, Marietta.’
‘Don’t patronise me,’ she snapped, a flash of Italian temper darkening her eyes to the colour of hot, bitter espresso. She squeezed them shut and pinched the delicate bridge of her nose.
Nico stretched out his denim-clad legs, crossed his bare feet at the ankles and waited for her to calm down.
‘I’m sorry.’ She dropped her hand, opened her eyes. ‘I didn’t mean to snap. I just don’t see how where I choose to buy my fruit and vegetables on a Saturday morning can possibly be relevant.’
