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Belatedly he realised she’d spoken again. ‘Pardon?’
‘A prisoner,’ she repeated, frowning at him. ‘I feel like a prisoner, Nico.’
A prisoner.
His gut twisted hard, turning in on itself, and his mind descended instantly to a dark, savage place.
Julia’s final, terror-filled days on this earth had been as a prisoner, held captive by the kidnappers who’d extracted a hefty ransom from her father—then left her in a ditch to die.
‘Nico?’
Marietta’s voice penetrated the sudden thick haze in his head.
‘Are you all right?’
He gave himself a mental shake, shoved a lid over that dark, bottomless hole before it sucked him into its destructive vortex. ‘I’m trying to keep you safe, Marietta. That’s all.’
‘I know. But my stalker’s in Rome—there’s no threat to me here.’
She edged her chair forward until her toes nearly touched his shins. When she tilted her head back the appeal in her huge brown eyes had a profound effect on him.
‘Nico... I spent six months of my life in a rehabilitation unit—two of those months flat on my back, staring at the same ceiling and walls, day in, day out. I had no control...no choice... I felt angry and scared and trapped—I guess that’s why I get a little stir-crazy when I’m cooped up in one place for too long.’
Guilt coiled inside him. He hadn’t considered that the isolation in which he found solace would, for Marietta, feel like captivity.
Silently cursing his thoughtlessness, he dropped to his haunches in front of her. ‘Tell me what you’d like to do today.’
Her face broke into a smile and for a second—just a second—Nico felt as if he’d stepped out of the darkness into the light.
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘COFFEE TO FINISH?’
Nico’s question drew Marietta’s attention from the young couple sitting several tables away in the bistro’s outdoor courtyard. She looked across the table she and Nico shared, its surface crowded with empty platters and dishes from their delicious seafood lunch. ‘Si. Please.’
A moment later Josephine’s son, Luc, came to clear their table and take their coffee order. He was pleasant, relaxed and friendly—like the rest of his family, all of whom Marietta had met upon their arrival at the quaint seaside restaurant.
Nico’s presence had drawn the entire Bouchard clan out to greet them—Josephine and her husband Philippe from the kitchen, and her father, Henri, from the cool, shaded interior of the family-run bistro. The old man had smiled broadly and the two men had greeted each other with obvious warmth—surprising Marietta, until she’d reminded herself that people were multi-faceted and Nico was no different.
Until yesterday she would never have guessed he was a widower—a fact that stirred a pang of emotion every time she thought of it.
A burst of laughter from the young couple drew her gaze back to them. Tourists from the mainland, she guessed. The guy was good-looking, his girlfriend pretty—blonde and suntanned, her slender legs long and bare below a short summer skirt. Their faces were flushed, from the sun or maybe from the wine they were drinking, and they looked happy. Carefree. In love.
‘I spoke with Bruno this morning.’
She looked at Nico, so big and handsome here in the open-air courtyard, with its colourful potted flowers and its miniature citrus trees in terracotta planters dotted around the tables. Overhead an umbrella shaded them from the sun’s brilliance and beyond the broad span of his shoulders the water sparkled in the harbour. She couldn’t imagine him looking carefree—not with that constant air of alertness about him—but he did look more at ease than she’d ever seen him before. That rare smile—the one she’d caught her first glimpse of last night—had made a couple of stunning reappearances, and each time it had stopped the breath in her lungs.
‘Is there any news?’ she asked, wondering why he hadn’t mentioned it before now, and yet grateful that he hadn’t. For a while over lunch she’d felt like just another tourist, enjoying the island.
‘Your ex is in the clear.’
Relief surged, even though she hadn’t for a moment suspected Davide. ‘So...what now? Are there other leads?’
‘A couple.’
She waited for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, she suppressed a flutter of annoyance. ‘I am going back in five days,’ she reminded him—because staying on the island beyond Friday and missing Ricci’s birthday was still a compromise too far.
Nico remained silent, evoking a frisson of disquiet. But then Luc arrived with their coffee and Josephine came out to ask if they’d enjoyed their meal.
