psychobabble. But that didn’t matter. She no longer had to impress him or try to be his perfect woman. All she had to do was to remain true to herself.
‘Yes, diminished.’
He was shaking his dark head. ‘I don’t understand you, Cat,’ he bit out, his voice filled with frustration.
‘And you don’t need to. When we leave here we won’t ever have to see each another again. My role in your life is over. I shouldn’t...’ For a moment, she stopped. Was that why people hid behind lies so often, because the truth was too painful to confront? ‘I shouldn’t have agreed to come, but since I have I’ll do what’s expected of me. I’ll play your perfect hostess one more time—but I can’t be intimate with you again. From now on, this relationship has to be platonic. It... hurts too much to be anything but platonic. So if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to unpack and then shower. I need to get ready for when your guests arrive.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
B ENEATH A JASMINE - COVERED pergola, the long table was laid with heavy silver and crystal, which gleamed golden in the candlelight. Desperately trying to concentrate on the beauty which surrounded her, Catrin sipped from her glass of water. Overhead, bright stars glittered—and occasionally one would shoot through the indigo sky in a blurred silvery trail so fast that if you blinked you would miss it. They had eaten tiny cheese soufflés followed by giant prawns and now they were lingering over the peach sorbet, which a young Italian woman had just served to them.
She sat back and listened to the discussion which was currently taking place between the three men, but in truth she wasn’t really paying much attention to the subject of wind farms.
It hadn’t been the easiest of days, but she didn’t think even Murat would deny that it had been a successful one. They had greeted their guests as a united couple. Somehow they had managed to disguise the brooding tension which had sprung up, following that heated confrontation in the bedroom earlier.
Alekto Sarantos had come by private jet from the Greek island of Santorini, and was accompanied by a sinewy redhead called Suzy, who was clinging to his arm as if she couldn’t bear to let him go. Catrin thought she could understand why, since the Greek billionaire was as gorgeous as she remembered from Paris.
He and Suzy had gone straight to their room, emerging several hours later all bright-eyed and laughing softly. As a demonstration of easy sexuality it couldn’t have been more apparent, and Catrin knew she hadn’t imagined Murat’s stony expression as he’d shot a meaningful glance in her direction.
Niccolo arrived alone. He’d flown straight from New York and seemed rather distracted throughout the day. But at dinner, Catrin found herself sitting next to him and found him entertaining company. He told her about meeting Murat on the ski slopes a decade earlier and then talked about growing up in Milan. But as the coffee was being served, he lowered his voice so that only she could hear.
‘Listen, I want to apologise for Lise’s behaviour towards you the other night.’
Catrin remembered his girlfriend’s words puncturing her foolish little world of make-believe and she shook her head. ‘Honestly. It’s fine, Niccolo. You could have brought her with you, if you’d wanted. I wouldn’t have minded.’
‘But I would’ve minded,’ he said stubbornly. ‘I don’t like women who take pleasure from other people’s misfortune.’
Catrin’s smile didn’t slip, even though she thought his words made her sound like some kind of victim.
So don’t be one.
‘Actually, I think maybe she did me a favour,’ she said. ‘Sometimes, I think it’s best to get things out in the open, don’t you?’
But the Italian’s expression remained impenetrable as he shook his head. ‘On the contrary,’ he said. ‘In my country secrets are as much a part of us as the air we take into our lungs.’ His eyes were
‘Yes, diminished.’
He was shaking his dark head. ‘I don’t understand you, Cat,’ he bit out, his voice filled with frustration.
‘And you don’t need to. When we leave here we won’t ever have to see each another again. My role in your life is over. I shouldn’t...’ For a moment, she stopped. Was that why people hid behind lies so often, because the truth was too painful to confront? ‘I shouldn’t have agreed to come, but since I have I’ll do what’s expected of me. I’ll play your perfect hostess one more time—but I can’t be intimate with you again. From now on, this relationship has to be platonic. It... hurts too much to be anything but platonic. So if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to unpack and then shower. I need to get ready for when your guests arrive.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
B ENEATH A JASMINE - COVERED pergola, the long table was laid with heavy silver and crystal, which gleamed golden in the candlelight. Desperately trying to concentrate on the beauty which surrounded her, Catrin sipped from her glass of water. Overhead, bright stars glittered—and occasionally one would shoot through the indigo sky in a blurred silvery trail so fast that if you blinked you would miss it. They had eaten tiny cheese soufflés followed by giant prawns and now they were lingering over the peach sorbet, which a young Italian woman had just served to them.
She sat back and listened to the discussion which was currently taking place between the three men, but in truth she wasn’t really paying much attention to the subject of wind farms.
It hadn’t been the easiest of days, but she didn’t think even Murat would deny that it had been a successful one. They had greeted their guests as a united couple. Somehow they had managed to disguise the brooding tension which had sprung up, following that heated confrontation in the bedroom earlier.
Alekto Sarantos had come by private jet from the Greek island of Santorini, and was accompanied by a sinewy redhead called Suzy, who was clinging to his arm as if she couldn’t bear to let him go. Catrin thought she could understand why, since the Greek billionaire was as gorgeous as she remembered from Paris.
He and Suzy had gone straight to their room, emerging several hours later all bright-eyed and laughing softly. As a demonstration of easy sexuality it couldn’t have been more apparent, and Catrin knew she hadn’t imagined Murat’s stony expression as he’d shot a meaningful glance in her direction.
Niccolo arrived alone. He’d flown straight from New York and seemed rather distracted throughout the day. But at dinner, Catrin found herself sitting next to him and found him entertaining company. He told her about meeting Murat on the ski slopes a decade earlier and then talked about growing up in Milan. But as the coffee was being served, he lowered his voice so that only she could hear.
‘Listen, I want to apologise for Lise’s behaviour towards you the other night.’
Catrin remembered his girlfriend’s words puncturing her foolish little world of make-believe and she shook her head. ‘Honestly. It’s fine, Niccolo. You could have brought her with you, if you’d wanted. I wouldn’t have minded.’
‘But I would’ve minded,’ he said stubbornly. ‘I don’t like women who take pleasure from other people’s misfortune.’
Catrin’s smile didn’t slip, even though she thought his words made her sound like some kind of victim.
So don’t be one.
‘Actually, I think maybe she did me a favour,’ she said. ‘Sometimes, I think it’s best to get things out in the open, don’t you?’
But the Italian’s expression remained impenetrable as he shook his head. ‘On the contrary,’ he said. ‘In my country secrets are as much a part of us as the air we take into our lungs.’ His eyes were
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