controlling power over so many others that he was almost impossible to challenge.
He was the grandson of a man who had started from nothing and built a financial empire from pure genius.
There were pictures of the Palazzo Marini-dilapidated, as it had been when he’d bought it, and then later, when he’d spent another fortune restoring it to glory. Its magnificence was breathtaking and she guessed he’d enjoyed showing the world how far he’d come.
But it seemed to Elise that Vincente had paid the price, inheriting the empire while still in his twenties. Since then he’d devoted every moment to its preservation and increase, never finding the time to take a wife, although his name had been linked with many society beauties.
Another click showed her a collection of glamorous women, sometimes alone, sometimes on his arm.
She considered them, thinking that they were more interested in him than he in them. Their eyes caressed him, gloated over him. His expression was often wry, if he was looking at them at all.
Suddenly she made a sound of exasperation at herself, clicked away from the site. Why was she bothering to study him?
She closed down the computer. After a minute she returned to it and disconnected the electricity. She couldn’t have said why she did that, but it made her feel better.
Then her job, once so pleasant, grew burdensome. Jane, the owner, became engaged to a young man called Ivor, an idler who planned to live off his wife. After his first meeting with Elise, he took to dropping in to the shop when he knew he would find her alone. Soon she was slapping his hands out of the way every few minutes.
‘I can’t help it,’ he excused himself, with an attempt at charm. ‘You’re really stunning, you know that?’
‘And I’m not available.’
‘Don’t give me that.’ He smirked knowingly. ‘Some women are available, even when they’re “not available”, if you know what I mean.’
She knew exactly what he meant. Ben had said much the same.
‘Sexy as hell but still a lady,’ he’d drooled. ‘That’s what gets them going.’
Elise had put up with it from him. She was damned if she was going to put up with it again.
‘Out!’ she said to him when he finally went too far.
‘You don’t mean that.’
‘I mean exactly that.’
‘You know your eyes sparkle when you’re angry. Come here!
Ivor jumped back, rubbing his face where her palm had caught it. He flinched as her arm shot out again, but this time she gripped his ear between finger and thumb, propelling him ruthlessly out of the shop and depositing him on the pavement.
‘Don’t come back,’ she raged.
‘Now, look-’
‘Beat it,’ said Vincente Farnese, hauling him to his feet.
Ivor took one look at him and fled. Elise stared at the man who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.
‘Good afternoon,’ Vincente said.
It was unforgivable of him to take her unawares, so that the rush of pleasure caught her off guard before she could brace herself. She even found herself smiling, which made her really cross with him.
‘Every time I see you,’ he observed, ‘you seem to be disposing of some enemy with an efficiency that makes me nervous. Last time it was that woman; this time it was-?’
‘My boss’s fiance.’
‘It’s nearly six o’clock,’ he added. ‘Will you soon be finished for the day?’
‘Yes, I’m just closing the shop.’
‘Then let’s go for a coffee.’
She fetched her coat, locked up and led him down the street, which was inexpensive and functional, rather than elegant. They found a cheap coffee house.
‘Not your normal style, I’m afraid,’ she said. ‘Is this a chance meeting?’
‘I never leave anything to chance,’ he said simply. ‘I got your address from the hotel, who had it for sending on your mail. I went to your home first.’
‘Really!’ she said wryly, trying to picture him looking at the shabby little hotel. ‘What did you think of it?’
‘I can’t imagine what you’re doing there.’
‘It’s all I can afford. I keep getting bills that Ben should have settled, and I have to work to pay them.’
‘You need to escape.’
‘So I will when I’ve sold the apartment.’
‘How is that going?’
She eyed him cynically, her lips twitching.
‘This is the man who just told me he never leaves anything to chance. It would be easy for you to find out that it’s still on the market.’
‘You’re right. I really meant-why is it still for sale?’
She sighed. ‘You tell me. Everyone says it’s in a desirable location, but either people don’t offer, or they do but it falls through.’
‘Well, you know my advice. Come and sell it yourself. Make it look like a home.’
‘That’s what the agent said.’
‘And he knows his business. You should heed him.’
‘Maybe I should,’ she said with a brief laugh. ‘I’m probably out of a job.’
He grinned. ‘Good. We leave tomorrow.’
‘Not so fast-’
‘What’s to keep you here?’
Vincente’s words brought the truth home to her starkly. There was nothing for her here any longer.
‘All right,’ she said softly. ‘I’ll come.’
‘Excellent. Where shall we dine tonight?’
‘I’m staying at home. I have loose ends to tie up. I’ll be waiting for you tomorrow morning.’
He gave her a curious look.
‘Will you? Or will I arrive to find that you’ve slipped away like a phantom?’
But it was he who’d slipped away like a phantom last time; she nearly said so, but checked herself. That would be admitting that she minded, conceding a point, which her instincts warned her not to do. He was handsome, charming and more dangerous than ever.
‘If I say I’ll be there, I’ll be there.’
She spoke in a cool tone that set him at a distance. She felt safer that way, especially now that she knew she was doing what he had always meant her to do. Just as everyone did.
He walked back to the hotel with her, where they were met by Elise’s boss, who’d been sitting there in a fury.
‘Ivor told me how you’ve been throwing yourself at him,’ she seethed. ‘What have you got to say for yourself?’
‘Well, “goodbye” is a nice word,’ Elise said. ‘Especially if you say it to Ivor. Here’s the key of the shop. But give him the boot, Jane. You can do better than Ivor. In fact, anybody can do better than Ivor.’
Jane scowled and walked out.
‘Splendid!’ Vincente said. ‘That’s the last of your old life.’
‘Until I come back and start a new one,’ she reminded him. ‘Goodnight, I’ll see you tomorrow. What about the flights?’
‘I’ll take care of them.’
‘Well, what time is take-off?’
‘Just be ready.’
Vincente was there the next morning at nine o’clock, to find the desk manned by a bored-looking lad.
‘Please inform Mrs Carlton that I’m here,’ Vincente said.
The lad lifted the phone, called the room and said, ‘Hello, Vi. Is Mrs Carlton there…? It’s a bit early for her to
