Her Last Night of Innocence. India Grey
were downcast, her face pale and completely expressionless.
‘Who’s that?’
His voice sounded as if he’d swallowed a razorblade. Suki glanced at him in surprise, following his gaze. ‘I take it you don’t mean the woman in the red Dolce & Gabbana? Because if you don’t know who she is then—’
‘Blue dress.’
‘Oh.’ Suki made the single syllable bristle with disdain. ‘I have no idea—which means she’s probably nobody. The girlfriend of one of the minor mechanics or geeky technicians. She looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t think where I’ve seen her before.’
Cristiano didn’t answer. The girl was directly below them now, so that he could see the satin sheen of her bare back and the raised bumps of her spine.
This time his head felt as if it had been split in two by forked lightning. It was as if the violinists were dragging their bows backwards and forwards over his taut nerves as their music swooped and screamed towards its pulsing climax. He was distantly aware of pain shooting up the tendons in his forearms, and realised he was gripping the railing so hard that his fingers were numb, as if he was trying to stop himself vaulting over it to get to the girl in the blue dress.
She had come to a standstill a little distance away from the platform where the violinists still tossed their hair and swayed between the two cars. Her back was towards him and Cristiano felt his body tightening, hardening, as his eyes travelled down its bare length. Her skin was the colour of old ivory.
And then suddenly she turned, ducking her head and slipping through the crowd that had gathered behind her. Everyone was too preoccupied with watching the violinists and looking at the wrecked car to take any notice of her as she passed.
Except him.
Her hair fell forward over her face, but just as she passed beneath the gallery where he stood she pushed it back, and he saw that the expression on her face was one of naked anguish.
He didn’t think. He didn’t hesitate. Thrusting the barely touched glass of champagne back at Suki, he was moving towards the staircase before she could open her mouth.
‘Cristiano!’ Her voice was high with surprise and indignation. ‘Cristiano—where are—?’
But he had already gone.
Chapter Three
THE car was like some kind of gruesome exhibit from her darkest nightmare. Coming across it like that—incongruously displayed in the opulence of the Casino’s grand salon like some kind of obscene trophy—made Kate feel faint with horror.
She had to get away. People were pressing around her, trying to get closer to look at the lump of twisted metal, their avid faces blurring into one as Kate struggled to push past. The music was loud enough to make the hot air pulse, and the room seemed to tilt and spin so that she couldn’t remember which door she’d come through.
Looking around wildly, she stifled a whimper of panic. Whichever way she turned she seemed to be hemmed in by people—swigging champagne, tossing manes of glossy hair, throwing back their heads and laughing—until she felt as if she was in some grotesque circus. Then miraculously, ahead of her, she saw the tall double doors that led to the lobby. Ducking her head, she gathered up the slippery fall of her skirt and broke into a half-run.
The lobby was empty now, and the cool air from outside fanned across her burning cheeks. The heels of her torturous shoes rang on the marble floor as she headed for the exit, hoping that Lisa or Ian hadn’t seen her and might follow and try to persuade her to come back again.
‘Wait.’
The word was low and fierce. Oh, God, she was even hearing voices now. Echoes from the past. Just as she did so often in her dreams. Any moment now she’d wake up and find herself staring at the ceiling of her cramped bedroom back in Hartley Bridge. Please God—please let her wake up before the part where she had to watch the car he was driving hit the barrier. Turn over. Burst into flames…
‘Wait!’
In dreams things happen in slow motion, and that was how it was then. Strong fingers closed around her wrist and she was being pulled back, a powerful wave of shock jolting through her body and her making her head whip round.
Her breath stopped.
He was inches away from her, his face darker, harder, leaner and even more terrifyingly perfect than she remembered. But it was his eyes that made her poor battered heart turn over as they burned into hers with laser-like intensity.
Her lips parted to speak but no sound came out.
And then…
And then his mouth was on hers, his fingers biting into her shoulders as he gripped her, and kissed her, and she kissed him back with all the pain and loneliness and desperate longing of the last four years. Showers of incredulous joy burst inside her head and spread through her whole body. She felt weak with relief, with joy, as their mouths devoured each other, brutal and ruthless, their tongues probing and fighting, their teeth clashing.
Distantly she was aware of the music coming to a thundering climax, and the eruption of applause—which suddenly got louder as the door behind them opened.
‘Cristiano?’
The voice was sharp and impatient, and Cristiano was lifting his head, pulling away from her, and the real world was rushing back in, in a blur of bright light and noise. He let go of her shoulders abruptly.
Kate staggered backwards, her hands flying to her mouth, which pulsed and throbbed, covering the incredulous smile that she couldn’t suppress. A beautiful and exotic-looking girl she remembered from Monaco as Cristiano’s PA, and whom she had seen coming and going from the hospital, was standing in the doorway. Her slanting, cat-like eyes flickered over Kate before going back to Cristiano.
‘Silvio is about to make his speech.’
‘Va bene,’ he said tersely. ‘I’ll be there in a minute.’
The girl stared at him for a second, as if she wanted to say more, but then she turned and disappeared with a disdainful flick of her black shiny hair. The noise from the crowded room was shut off suddenly as the door closed behind her.
Kate was trembling violently with shock in the aftermath of that kiss, and with a sort of wild, excited anticipation, unable to take in the fact that the moment she’d waited for all these years was finally here.
He was here.
Her gaze travelled wonderingly over him, as if trying to make her dazzled mind believe what she was seeing. She had only ever seen him in racing overalls or jeans and a T-shirt before, but the black, perfectly tailored dinner jacket added a whole new dimension of sexiness to his racing driver’s physique, making his shoulders look wider and stronger, his hips narrower. Or maybe they were narrower, she thought with a wrench of desire and compassion. He had lost weight since the accident. The realisation made her want to wrap her arms around him and…
Slowly he turned back to face her. There was a curious stillness about him. In the golden light of the chandeliers his face looked unusually pale.
‘Mi dispiace. I shouldn’t have done that.’
His voice was toneless. Kate felt a pinprick of icy fear at the base of her spine. She shook her head, twisting her hands together to stop herself from reaching out to him.
‘It’s OK.’
He smiled—a chilling echo of the lazy, sexy, delicious smile she remembered so well.
‘Not really. I’m afraid I mistook you for someone else. I apologise…’
The fear blossomed and spread through her, as if it was being injected into her veins. She felt her own smile freeze on her face—a rictus grin of horror. Her whole body suddenly seemed to be made of stone, and it was all she could do to turn her face away so