“How terrible.”
He shot her a look. “Indeed. But come.” He patted the couch next to him. “Sit with me a moment.”
She hesitated. “I’m okay standing.”
“Please, Ms Goldstein – Gabriella – I do not bite. Not unless you want me to, at least!” He leaned forward, emitting a loud laugh before cutting it short, adding brusquely, “There is something I want to ask you. Please, sit.”
Acid held her ground as her amygdala fizzed and bubbled, sending a heady cocktail of stress response chemicals soaring through her nervous system. The bats screamed in her head. Step careful.
“Something to ask me,” she said, walking over and sitting as far away from him as the seat allowed. “Whatever is it?”
Delgado grinned, sliding an arm across the back of the couch. His eyes were like slits as he considered her. A second went by. And another. Acid glanced up at the large window behind the desk. Heavy wooden shutters hung open either side but the external pane had steel bars criss-crossing the glass. Not a surprise for someone in Delgado’s position. She wondered if Danny could see her right now, and how quickly he’d be ready to move if things turned sour. Because something in the air had shifted and she didn’t like it. Not one bit.
“You know, I have lots of contacts in the art world,” Delgado told her. His voice was soft, but more monotonous suddenly. “Dealers, artists, collectors. Many in Spain, but all across Europe, America too, the UK.”
She took a deep breath in through her nose, keeping the smile fixed in place. “I’m sure you do, a man of your stature. I know in my own life I—”
“No one has ever heard of Gabriella Goldstein the art collector,” he spat, lurching forward and grabbing her by the wrist. “Not one person. Anywhere. So who are you? Who do you work for?”
“Hey,” she cried, trying to remove her arm from his grip but failing. He was stronger than he looked, the palpable fury coming off him helping his case. “What the bloody hell are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about you not being who you say you are. Lying to me. So talk. Fast.”
“Okay, fine,” she gasped, thinking on her feet. “My name is Louisa Horowitz. But I am an art dealer, I swear. Or at least, I’m trying to be. I thought… maybe if I put on more of a show, you’d be more interested in what I had to say. And like me more.” She looked down, before gazing up at him through her eyelashes, a forlorn expression wilting her smile, doing the whole bit. “I am so sorry, sir. I am such an idiot.”
Delgado frowned, not convinced, but visibly softening, releasing his hold on her. “You knew who I was?” he asked. “Before we met?”
“Of course. You’re Luis Delgado, art dealer, entrepreneur, most eligible bachelor in northern Spain.” He smiled at this, couldn’t help himself, but it faded fast.
“You are a gold-digger then, huh?”
“Not at all. I’m attracted to you. I wanted to meet you, that’s all. Wanted to find a way to get you to notice me.” She leaned in and put her hand on his thigh. “That’s all. I swear.”
Sixteen years of experience in high-pressure situations such as this meant muscle memory had taken over, even if her mind and heart were both racing to a finish line she didn’t like the look of. She remained calm, her body loose but ready to act. She smiled her best smile (sweet and innocent but with a hint of thirsty yearning) and slid her hand further around the curve of his thigh. “Please, Mr Delgado,” she purred breathlessly. “I only wanted a chance to meet you.”
“Well, here we are.”
“Yes.”
With eyes half closed and her lips parting, she leaned in closer, him doing the same. Short panted breaths met somewhere in the space between them and she braced for impact, waiting to feel his lips on hers. She’d expected firmness, a little aggressiveness. What she wasn’t ready for was him grabbing her face and holding her at arm’s length.
“You think I can’t tell when people are lying to me?” he snarled, sharp fingernails digging into the flesh of her cheeks as he squeezed them together. “You’re still doing it.”
With her face squashed together this way all she could do was convey with her eyes and a shuddering shake of her head that he was wrong. That she was sorry. That she was also afraid. Because right now she didn’t need to pretend. The air was tense as hell and despite her subconscious frantically searching for a way out of this situation, it appeared she was out of options.
Delgado pushed her back and got to his feet. “I have business to attend to. You will wait here until I have decided what to do with you.”
“But I—”
He held his hand up to her. “I won’t be gone long but while I am I suggest you consider carefully what you’re going to tell me when I get back. Because believe me, Ms Goldstein – Ms Horowitz, whoever the fuck you are – I want answers. And if I don’t think they’re the right ones, then this will be trouble for you. A lot of trouble.” He got over to the double doors and grabbed a handle in each hand, ready to back out of the room. “Mark my words, if you know as much about me as you say you do, you’ll know I’m serious. You’ll know I’m not someone you want to piss off.”
Acid watched in silence as he left the room and shut the doors with a heavy thud. A second later she heard the grinding sound of metal against metal. Him locking her in the room.
“Bollocks,” she whispered to herself. “Looks like we’re going to Plan B.”
She hurried over to the window and peered out into the blackness. She had maybe ten minutes to get out of here before Delgado returned. It was up
