His smile didn’t fool her, nor the way he ushered her to a chair, then sat on the desk, leaning over her solicitously. He was expecting her capitulation.
‘And here I am, with some news for you,’ she said.
She gave herself a moment to enjoy his expectant look, before saying, ‘I’ve been a bit preoccupied recently. The bank called in the loan on the factory. They actually wanted repayment in two weeks. I ask you, what can anyone do in two weeks?’
‘Not very much, I imagine,’ he said sympathetically.
‘It looked as though selling to you was my only option. Well, I’ve just been to the bank and I thought I should come to see you immediately.’
‘Very understandable,’ he observed. ‘I’m grateful for your courtesy. Did the bank manager give you a hard time?’
‘No, he was nice, but there were so many papers to sign, and I didn’t understand half of them. Never mind, it’s all done now, and I’m free,
‘Well, you will be when we’ve completed the sale. Don’t worry, I’ll give you a fair price. I don’t like to think of you worrying about money.’
‘Oh, Salvatore, how kind of you to be concerned for me! But there’s no need. I’ve paid the loan off, every last penny.’ A delight in danger made her add, ‘Isn’t that wonderful?’
He put his head on one side. ‘Is this the joke of the day?’
‘I never joke about money, any more than you do, I’m sure. Here, these will convince you.’
She took out the official papers, signed, witnessed and complete, proving that Larezzo was now officially free from debt.
Salvatore’s first thought was that they were forgeries, but then his head cleared and he saw the signature of Valerio Donati, the bank manager, a signature he knew well. Everything was perfectly in order. Payment had been made in full.
His face was a careful blank as he summoned up all his reserves of control. They had never failed him before, but nothing in the past had mattered quite as much as this.
She was smiling as though this were no more than an innocent moment between friends, but he knew better. She’d come here today to flaunt her triumph, letting him delude himself that he’d won. Now she was doubtless laughing inside. Anger flared up in him but he suppressed it. How she would enjoy any sign that he was disturbed.
‘Very clever,’ he said at last. ‘I underestimated you.’
‘Now, there’s an admission!’
‘A temporary admission. It won’t last. You’ll sell in the end.’
‘Oh, will I? I’ve heard of stubbornness but this is absurd.’
‘Is it? Let’s face facts. Are you pretending that Antonio left you enough spare cash to cover this?’
‘No, he didn’t. If anything his funds were running rather low in his last months.’
‘Then you must have raised a huge bank loan.’
‘Really? Perhaps you shouldn’t jump to conclusions.’
‘I think this one is safe enough.’
‘Salvatore, you have a problem.’
‘
‘Yes, you simply can’t believe anything that doesn’t suit you. It weakens your position because it means that your enemy is always one step ahead, knowing something that you don’t.’
‘The enemy being you?’
‘If you like.’
She laughed up into his face as she said it, and for a moment he was invaded by a delight so intense that it almost drove everything else from his mind. He fought it. This was no time for emotion.
‘Very well,’ he said slowly. ‘Enemies it is. But how foolish of you to cross me. It’s something I don’t allow. You’ll discover that.’
‘Oh, don’t be so serious. I’ve won this round, you’ll probably win the next one, then I’ll win the one after-’
‘And I’ll win the
‘Maybe. Shake?’
Reluctantly he took the hand she held out and held it for a moment.
‘So you’re still determined to drive me out of Venice?’ she said lightly.
The sudden tension in his grip told her all she wanted to know. He didn’t want to drive her out.
‘Perhaps,’ he said slowly. ‘Or maybe I’ll let you stay-if it suits me.’
‘It always has to be on your terms, doesn’t it?’
He raised her hand, touching it with gentle, seductive lips that sent scurries of pleasure through her.
‘Always,’ he confirmed. ‘But here-’he glanced around his office ‘-isn’t our real battlefield. It’s the other one that counts, and there-who knows who the victor will be?’
Helena laughed. ‘Shame on you. You think you’re going to win that one too?’
‘Perhaps that depends on what you call victory,’ he parried. ‘We may both enjoy finding out.’
‘That’s true. I’ll leave you now. You’ll need some time to consider your next attack. But remember what I told you. Beware the enemy-no, not enemy, opponent-’
‘That’s better,’ he agreed.
He was still holding her hand, smiling in a way that disturbed her. The warmth was stealing through her again, making her smile back-
‘You’re getting out of character,’ she said.
‘What?’
‘You’re supposed to be angry with me, don’t you remember?’
‘I am-very angry.’
‘You’re absolutely furious that I put one over on you.’
‘In a terrible rage.’
‘I can see. And you’re planning your revenge.’
‘Not planning it,’ he said quietly. ‘Taking it.’
On the words he drew her close and kissed her, wrapping both his arms right round her, imprisoning her own arms so that she had no choice but to stand still, defenceless against anything he wanted to do.
And what he wanted was to caress her lightly, teasingly, each whispered touch a reminder of their ‘other battlefield’ and the thrilling skirmishes still to come. She relished it as long as she could endure immobility, then broke free and took over the kiss.
‘Call that revenge?’ she demanded. ‘
She returned his attack in full measure, pressing close to him while her lips made silent promises that challenged his self-control, just as he’d challenged hers. It was a battle of the Titans.
‘I must go,’ she whispered. ‘I have a lot of things to do.’
She moved towards the door, then stopped and looked back.
‘Remember my warning. Beware the opponent who knows something you don’t.’
She was gone.
That evening Salvatore called on Valerio Donati. He was always a welcome guest in the bank manager’s house, and was impatient to plan his next move. But things didn’t go as he’d expected.
‘That’s the last time I listen to you,’ Donati grumbled as they sat down to dinner. ‘Call the loan in, you said. She can’t cope, you
‘Who is she,’ Salvatore demanded, ‘apart from Antonio’s widow?’
‘Are you saying you didn’t realise you were dealing with “Helen of Troy”?’ Donati demanded.
‘Of course he didn’t,’ his wife said. ‘Salvatore doesn’t read the fashion pages, or he’d have known that her face was everywhere before she retired. They say she was among the highest-paid models in the world. She must be worth a fortune.’
Salvatore smiled and made a polite response, but inwardly he was in turmoil, remembering Helena’s words. This was the secret that she had known and he hadn’t. She’d taunted him with it, and she’d won.
He left his hosts early and walked home through the little darkened
