before pinning them up into a sophisticated twist. An easy-to-wear stretchy Lyrca dress followed. A careful application of light makeup and a pair of gold hoop earings, and she was ready to face Angelo and his guests.
She waltzed into the open-plan seating area, only to find the laughing man of earlier gone. Angelo stood with his back to the view over the island, impeccably dressed in black trousers and a black T-shirt, but his jaw was set. “You didn’t mention that you had an intimate little tete-a-tete with your former lover at the pool yesterday.”
Gemma’s heart sank at the coldness in his eyes. She stared at him through her lashes, not knowing quite what to say. She’d wanted to forget about Jean-Paul. Escape. And, to be truthful, she hadn’t wanted any mention of the Frenchman to wreck the burgeoning relationship between herself and Angelo.
“Nothing to say? Did you know that Jean-Paul would be here? Is that why you agreed to come?”
“No! Jean-Paul means nothing to me.” Angelo’s suspicion threw her. She should’ve expected it. After what Mandy had done, it wasn’t surprising. And with that came a further revelation. His opinion mattered because she was starting to have real feelings for him. He was the worst man in the world for her to fall for-Hell, he didn’t even know who she was.
The time had come to tell him the truth.
Scanning the piercing eyes, the mouth pulled into a tight line, she knew there would be no forgiveness.
It was way too late.
The elevator pinged, breaking Angelo’s fixed, angry stare and Gemma felt weak with relief. Coward, she admonished herself, as he moved fluidly towards the elevator and greeted the man and woman stepping out.
Gemma followed more slowly, wishing the evening was already over. She needed to talk to Angelo alone. For her own peace of mind, she had to come clean. She could delay no longer, however much she wanted to spend time with him.
She forced a smile to her lips as Angelo performed the introductions. She couldn’t tell Angelo now, not with his guests here. Later, after they’d gone.
Daphne and Basil Makrides were a reserved couple, both with worry lines around their eyes, though they grew less reserved as the evening wore on. But Angelo remained cool, and Gemma found it increasingly distressing.
Two members of his staff poured them cocktails and served a selection of mezze-style starters. Gemma chatted to Daphne about the resort, about the excitement of the wild ride through the underground caverns, and Daphne smiled.
The conversation moved on to food. Basil and Daphne were well-travelled, and Angelo contributed to the conversation, although Gemma couldn’t help being aware of the dark glances he shot her from time to time. She tried to ignore it, chattering gaily and soon all four of them were talking of favourite spots they’d visited.
But the unbearable tension between herself and Angelo caused Gemma’s stomach to knot up. When he moved to change the music, she followed him. “I honestly didn’t know Jean-Paul would be on the island,” Gemma murmured in a low voice that would not reach his guests. “I was surprised when I met him at the pool.”
“Maybe not such an accident on Jean-Paul’s part.”
“For goodness’ sake.” Gemma rolled her eyes. “He was with a stunning Swede by the name of Birgitte.”
Angelo looked surprised.
“Obviously your informant failed to mention that,” she said, a touch acerbically. “Although, to be fair, Birgitte did leave to go to the spa for a while. But I also left not long after that. I had no desire to share Jean-Paul’s company.” She’d stayed only as long as had been necessary to learn what she needed.
Her distaste must have been clear, because his hand covered hers. “I’m sorry.”
She jerked under his touch. “Why?”
“For misjudging you. I thought-” There was confusion in his eyes. Pain, and a hint of vulnerability.
He thought she’d been ready to betray him with Jean-Paul. For a second time. She had to tell him the truth. A glance in the Makrideses’ direction showed her that they were hovering near the dining table. No time now. So she said, “I won’t see him again. I promise.”
Angelo inclined his head. “Thank you.” The liquid voice of Andrea Bocelli swelled through the room. Angelo started to speak, but then he shook his head. “Later.”
Later. Apprehension knotted in her stomach. There would be lots to talk about later.
Gemma followed Angelo slowly towards the table where two waiters in waistcoats and bowties were setting out plates with polished-silver covers to keep the food hot.
“Do you have any children?” Gemma asked Daphne after the meal and they’d returned to the comfortable sofas to drink rich coffee from tiny Greek coffee cups. The staff had left, and the four of them were alone.
Daphne stilled. There was an uncomfortable silence and Gemma had the horrible premonition that she’d put her foot squarely in it. Then Daphne replied, “Yes, two sons, Chris and Marco.”
Gemma changed the subject and started to talk frantically of the cooling weather and how different it was from Auckland where the weather would now be humid with less than four weeks to go until Christmas.
Gemma chattering on with increasing desperation about Christmas decorations and shopping habits until Daphne said suddenly, “Whenever I try to talk about Chris everyone smiles and talks about something else. It’s like he has an unspeakable disease.”
“He’s ill?” Gemma asked carefully.
“No, not ill, not in the way you mean. He has a…problem.”
“Oh.” Gemma wasn’t sure what more to say. So she said nothing and waited.
“He’s in rehabilitation.” Daphne named a famous French drug-and-alcohol rehabilitation centre. “It’s his third attempt, we’re hoping that this time it will work.”
Gemma placed her suddenly cold hands over the other woman’s. “I’m so sorry.”
Daphne’s eyes glinted with moisture. “No one lets me talk about it. It’s like Chris no longer exists.”
“I understand.”
“How can you possibly understand?” There was a tinge of anger in the woman’s question.
Gemma drew a deep breath. “My sister died of a drug overdose.”
Daphne gasped. “I am so sorry. I didn’t realise.”
“The worst was not realizing she’d been an addict-for some time.” Gemma blinked back the familiar tears. “The last couple of months of her life were awful. She self-destructed before my eyes. I was so furious with her.” And with her sister’s billionaire boyfriend who had gotten her hooked on drugs. That anger had been misplaced. “I miss her desperately.”
“There are times when I’m so cross with Chris I want to shake him, ask him why he’s doing this…and most of all I wonder where Basil and I went wrong.” The words burst from Daphne. “We gave him everything we thought he wanted.”
“It’s not your fault.”
Daphne looked at her, her eyes sunken in their sockets, haunted by unhappiness.
“You can’t blame yourself. We always try to blame someone in these situations. It’s human nature to try find an excuse for terrible things that happen.”
She had blamed Angelo. Wrongly. Unfairly. It wasn’t his fault Mandy had died. He wasn’t the ogre she’d imagined.
Gemma shot him a glance. He was talking to Basil, as if aware of her every move, he glanced up, their eyes tangled…and held. Her heart shifted.
At that moment, Gemma realised she loved him.
She stilled in shock. Then he was in front of her. “Can I get either of you ladies a nightcap?” Gemma and Daphne shook their heads.
“The coffee is good,” Daphne said.
Angelo slid into the space beside Gemma on the sofa and his thigh pressed against hers, sending sharp slivers of desire splintering through her. Wrapping his arm around her shoulder, he placed a kiss on her brow. The bold claim took her by surprise, she saw the astonishment in Daphne’s eyes as Basil came to stand beside her.
Twenty minutes later the evening was over and, as they walked to the door, Daphne swung around and unexpectedly hugged Gemma.
“Thank you for sharing how you feel about your sister’s death, it helped me more than you’ll ever know. At least Chris is still alive, still has a chance to recover. And I’ve made a decision. I am going to fund a foundation to help warn young people about the dangers of drugs. Basil has spoken about doing something like that in the past. But I was simply too listless to do anything.”
