Moth to the Flame (5 page)

feeling of anger overwhelmed her and she tore the paper into tiny

pieces. Her own sister was getting married, and these few curt lines

of explanation were all the announcement or involvement that she

could hope for. And for Mim, of course, it would be even worse. ,

It had apparently not occurred to Jan that her sister might wish to

witness the ceremony, even if she was dispensing with such

luxuries as bridesmaids. 'She had not even permitted her to meet the

bridegroom before the wedding took place.

She went through to the kitchen and disposed of the torn fragments

and the envelope in the refuse bin, telling herself to calm down.

There was little point in wishing that Jan was other than she was.

She had always been very lovely and very selfish, and the spoiling

that her loveliness had induced had merely increased the

selfishness, she thought rather desolately.

She looked round her irresolutely. There was plenty of food, she

knew. All she had to do was prepare some. And things could be

very much worse, she reminded herself. True, she was disappointed

that Jan was getting married in haste and secrecy, but judging by

the reference to Santino Vallone in her note, she had her reasons.

But she had the free run of the apartment in Jan's absence, and only

herself to consider for the next few days.

But she did not feel like a lonely meal after her solitary day. Jan

would probably not have been particularly interested to hear about

her experiences, but she would have lent an indifferent ear all the

same. Now there was no one to share even at the remotest level her

sense of wonder at all she had seen, or listen to her plans for the

following day, and she felt almost childishly hurt.

Oh, damnation, she thought angrily, brushing the stinging tears from

her eyes with a dismissive hand. She was in grave danger of

relapsing into self-pity, which was not a failing she usually suffered

from. What she had to do now was make the most of her remaining

time in Rome, because when Jan returned she would be on her

honeymoon, and that was a situation which she would not be able

to intrude upon no matter how lonely she might feel. Jan's return in

fact would have to be the signal for her departure.

But she wouldn't spend the evening brooding. She would shower

and change and go out for a meal. The decision made, she felt

infinitely more cheerful. As her stay was going to be inevitably

curtailed, she could afford to splurge a little bit more on her daily

spending. She talked through the bedroom and into the bathroom

beyond, discarding sandals and clothes as she went.

It was bliss to wash the dust and heat of the day from her body

under the shower, and she didn't bother to use the shower cap

hanging on the peg by the tiled cubicle. There was a range of talcs

and toilet waters on a glass shelf above the bath and she sampled a

few of them before scenting herself liberally from the most exotic.

She picked up a towel and rubbed at her damp hair which tumbled

in a copper cascade about her naked shoulders. She was just on the

point of returning to the bedroom when she heard the door buzzer

sound.

There was a towelling robe hanging on the back of the door and

without pausing she grabbed at it, thrusting her arms into the

sleeves and tying the belt round her slim waist. At the top of her

mind was that it could be Jan, or even Mario come to invite her to

go with them to what was, after all, a family occasion. As she

hurried -barefoot along the gallery towards the door, it occurred to

her that the robe was much too large for her. In fact it would also

have been much too large for Jan as well, and flushing slightly she

realised it must belong to Mario. Perhaps he had merely moved out

for a few nights to accommodate her, she thought as she fumbled

for the chain on the door. In any case, it was none of her business.

The buzzer sounded again, loud and imperative, and in her haste

she forgot all about the preliminary precaution of using the door

intercom. Even as the door swung open, a warning note sounded

inside her head, but by then it was too late, because the man who

had been waiting impatiently on the threshold was already pushing

his way past her into the apartment.

Juliet controlled a gasp of fury. Who does he think he is? she raged

inwardly as the newcomer strode down the steps to the
salotto
and

stood looking around him. If it was Mario, brother-in-law or no, she

would give him a piece of her mind, but suddenly it was borne in

upon her that Mario would surely be a younger man, and an

unpleasing conviction began to take hold of her mind as she studied

her peremptory visitor.

She felt at an utter disadvantage, of course—her hair hanging round

her face in damp tendrils, and wearing nothing except this robe

which plainly didn't belong to her. She was in no fit state to cope

with anyone—least of all this stranger who behaved as if he owned

the place.

He was very dark, she saw, with thick hair untouched with grey,

growing back from his forehead. He was deeply tanned with a

high-bridged nose and a mouth that despite its sensual curve looked

as if it had never uttered the word 'compromise' in its life. His eyes,

when he swung back to look at her, were surprisingly light in

colour—almost tawny, she found herself thinking, and oddly

sinister against the darkness of his skin. And he was good and

angry. About that there wasn't the slightest doubt.

For reasons she could not have explained even to herself, Juliet

found that she was instinctively tightening the sash of that stupid

robe.

He rapped a question at her in Italian, and she shook her head.

'I'm sorry.' She was ashamed to hear a slight tremor in her voice.

'Sono inglese. No comprende.
Do you speak English?'

'Of course I speak English,' he snapped furiously, and so he did,

faultlessly with barely a trace of an accent. 'But I understood,

signorina,
that you spoke fluent Italian. Or is that merely another of

the fairy stories that my impressionable brother has chosen to

believe about you?'

Juliet swallowed. So her instinct had been right. His height alone

should have warned her. He was certainly taller than most of the

men she had seen that day, lean too, in an expensive dark suit with

a silky texture. He had pushed the jacket back and was standing

watching her, his hands resting lightly on his hips. But there was no

relaxation in his pose. She was reminded all too strongly of a

mountain lion about to spring.

What had Jan said? As dark as Satan, and she was right, except for

those curious tawny eyes. But perhaps she hadn't teen close enough

to him to notice them, Juliet thought, and wished very much that she

wasn't either, particularly when they appeared to be contemptuously

stripping her naked.

Trying to steady her voice, she said, 'I think,
signore,
that you have

made a mistake.'

He smiled grimly. 'On the contrary,
signorina,
it is you that has

made the mistake. I ordered you to leave my brother alone. I

offered what I believe were generous terms for you to do so, yet

you have ignored my letter and flagrantly disobeyed my orders.'

Juliet's lips parted soundlessly. Jan had said she had only seen him

once and that at a distance, but had he seen her? It seemed not, or

he would never have mistaken her for her sister.

A feeling of helplessness was beginning to overwhelm her. She

simply wasn't prepared for this. Jan had mentioned no letter nor any

offer of terms, only talked vaguely of threats. Stealing a glance at

Santino Vallone, Juliet could well believe that he would carry out

any threat that he might utter. The dark face wore an expression of

almost patrician disgust as he stared at her, but there was a

ruthlessness about its hard lines that it was impossible to ignore.

Formidable was a word she rarely used, but it applied to him.

The thought came to her that Jan might have been expecting this

visit and might have deliberately absented herself, but she crushed it

under. Jan had gone away to get married, and this man was here to

put a spoke in the wheel of her wedding plans if he could.

Only—he thought she was Jan, and clearly he had no idea that her

marriage to his brother was so imminent.

All she had to do was explain, show him her passport from her

handbag in the bedroom and he would leave. But he would leave in

search of Jan and Mario and it was possible, even probable, that he

would find them and perhaps even prevent the wedding taking

place. Jan was obviously more disturbed by his influence than she

had revealed, or why her hurried and secretive departure?

But if—if she let him go on believing that she was Jan, it was just

possible that she could keep him on a string for a few days until the

wedding was over and his interference no longer mattered. At the

very least, she could give Jan and Mario a head start.

She flung her head back and lifted her chin. Her eyes sparked back

at him. 'Orders,
signore
? Who, gave you the right to give me

orders?'

He made an impatient gesture. 'We are not here to talk of rights,

signorina
,' he said coldly. 'I have come to offer you for the last time

the terms I stated in my letter. I understood from your reply that you

were willing to consider them, but I am not prepared to put up with

any more prevarication from you.'

Juliet digested his words in silence, her brain whirling feverishly.

She seemed to be getting into deep water already. What could he

mean? Had Jan actually written to him, and if so had she merely

been pretending to agree to his terms in order to win time? Surely

that was the answer. She could never have seriously considered his

offer to buy her off. Juliet wouldn't believe it. Jan could never have

permitted such a consideration to enter her mind, she argued with

herself vehemently. Her sister must simply have been playing for

time.

She gave a little shrug. 'You're clearly so used to having people

accede to your slightest wish,
signore,
I was afraid what the shock

might do to you if I said what I really thought.'

The tawny eyes swept over her and she was aware of a daunting

blaze in their depths.

'Indeed,
signorina
?' he drawled. 'I think my system can stand the

strain. What was wrong with the offer? Didn't it contain sufficient

money?'

A cold fury possessed Juliet. Whatever faults Jan might have, she

was her sister, and no arrogant Italian male, however wealthy, was

going to insinuate that she was some kind of cheap gold-digger

eager to be bought off for some unknown amount of cash.

Her tone was dulcet, but her smile was dangerous as she said, 'You

don't have sufficient money,
signore.
It's Mario that I want, and no

amount of bribery by you can alter that, so please don't try.'

His lip curled. 'I admire the note of conviction,
signorina,
but I

don't believe it. I also have my convictions, and one of them is that

most men have their price, and all women; I am merely waiting to

hear yours.'

She longed to do something thoroughly unladylike, like slapping

him hard or raking her fingernails down his smooth tanned cheek,

but she had to forget her own angry impulses and play the scene as

if she were Jan.

Jan wouldn't allow herself to be thrown by her deshabille and damp

hair. She would have smiled, pouting a little at his discourtesy, and

pushed back her hair, letting the robe open slightly at the front so

that Santino Vallone was aware that under it she wore nothing but

her perfume. She would have enticed him to a more approachable

frame of mind, and played him like a fish on a hook with her

audacious beauty.

But knowing what Jan would probably have done and acting on it

herself were two entirely different things. And the depressing part

of it was that Juliet didn't have a clue where to start. Men like the

arrogant Santino Vallone were totally out of her league. Yet she had

to try if she was to continue to convince him that she was Jan.

'Lost for words,
signorina
?' came the jibing remark. 'Or are you too