been thrown, to be succeeded by a strangely intense silence into which his voice, quiet and cold, fell like a stone.
He said. ‘I am Giulio Falcone. And this is my house. May I know what you are doing here?’
‘Your house?’ Nina was the first to break the spell his appearance had created. She faced him, flushed, tousled and frankly aggressive. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’
‘Easy,’ Ben intervened sharply. ‘It is him. It’s Count Falcone himself.’
‘I don’t care who he is,’ Nina flung back. ‘This place belongs to Tommaso Moressi, and we’re renting it from him.’
‘You are mistaken, signorina.’ Count Falcone’s voice was like steel. ‘The man you speak of, Moressi, is no more than the nephew of my servant, Maddalena. He owns nothing apart from what he can steal,’ he added contemptuously. ‘I hope you have not been unwise enough to pay him anything.’
‘I’m afraid we have.’ Lucy spoke, her voice hollow, her hands shaking as she put her dress to rights. ‘Three weeks’ rent, plus the use of a car and maid servce. Only the maid has disappeared—and so has Signor Moressi.’
‘I don’t doubt it.’ Giulio Falcone shrugged. ‘Almost certainly word of my unexpected return spread at once, and he took fright.’ He shook his head, more in sorrow than in anger. ‘Poor Maddalena. She has always indulged that worthless fool’
‘Poor Maddalena?’ Fee echoed shrilly. ‘To hell with that. What about us—our money?’
She had climbed out of the pool, and the Count’s face tightened with distaste as he glanced at her.
‘Be good enough to cover yourself at once, signorina,’ he directed with icy formality. ‘I regret that you have been the victim of a confidence trick, but that is hardly my problem. What I must demand is that you vacate my house immediately.’ He looked around, frowning. ‘Are you all staying here?’
‘No.’ Ben was huddling into his clothes. He looked awkward and faintly ridiculous. ‘My parents have a place near Lussione.’
‘Then I suggest you return there. And take your friends with you,’ Giulio Falcone added bitingly.
‘No,’ Lucy said forcefully, her shocked negation instantly echoed by Sue and Clare.
‘You bring these slags back with us and I walk out.’ Sue glared at Ben.
The Count’s lip curled. ‘We seem to have an impasse,’ he drawled. ‘I suggest you settle it amongst yourselves before I am forced to call the polizia.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Shall we say fifteen minutes?’
His mention of the police had an oddly galvanising effect. Within seconds, the poolside was clear and the erstwhile tenants of the Vila Dante were on their way upstairs to pack.
As Lucy passed the door of the salotto, she could hear a furious argument going on between Ben and the others. Hal detached himself from it and came to the door.
‘It’s all right, sweetheart.’ His eyes swept over her in an appraisal that combined sensuality with malice. ‘You don’t have to worry about a thing. I’ve got my own room at Ben’s place. I’ll make sure you’re looked after—as long as you start being friendlier.’
She said with icy clarity, ‘Over my dead body,’ and went up to her room, two stairs at a time.
Her heart was thudding like a sledgehammer as she began to empty the chest of drawers and the wardrobe, hardly aware of what she was doing as she tried to think—to plan. She’d have to cut her losses altogether, she told herself as she piled everything untidily into her case. Somehow she’d have to make her way to Pisa and get a flight home. Anything else was unthinkable.
She presumed she’d be able to transfer the return half of her ticket to a different flight. If not, she’d simply have to pay all over again.
I’ll worry about that when I get there, she told herself as she dashed into the bathroom to collect her toiletries.
When she returned to the bedroom, she realised with another thump of the heart that she was no longer alone.
Giulio Falcone was lounging in the doorway, watching her.
‘You don’t have to check up on me,’ she said quickly, aware that her breathing had quickened, and resenting the fact. ‘I’ve almost finished.’
‘So I see.’ He was silent for a moment. ‘Are you so eager to go to Lussione?’
‘You know I’m not.’ She pitched her toilet bag into the case and rammed the lid shut.
‘No? You don’t want to be with your friends?’
She bit her lip. ‘They’re not my friends.’
His brows lifted sceptically. ‘Yet I observed an unusual level of intimacy for mere acquaintances,’ he murmured.
Lucy flushed, remembering exactly what he must have seen. ‘They’re just some people we met on the plane,’ she said. ‘Nina and the others wanted to give a party—and invited them here tonight.’
‘Yes,’ he said with chill emphasis. ‘I have seen the trail of destruction they have left—particularly in the dining room.’
‘I didn’t get around to that,’ Lucy admitted wearily. ‘But I tidied the kitchen.’ She lifted her chin. ‘And I’m sure we’ll be happy to make good any damage.’
He laughed. ‘You are being naive, signorina. Both the lamp and the glass were antiques of great value. Replacement would be impossible, and the cost inestimable.’
Lucy’s heart sank. ‘Well, we could all chip in,’ she returned bravely. ‘And, of course, the police may find Tommaso Moressi and get our money back. You could have a claim on that, I suppose.’
‘I think Tommaso will be a long way from here by now, with his tracks safely covered,’ Giulio Falcone commented drily. ‘Leaving his unfortunate aunt, as usual, to pick up the pieces,’ he added cuttingly.
Lucy looked down at the floor. ‘I understand now why she didn’t want us here. She seemed very frightened.’
‘I can imagine,’ he said sardonically. ‘Yet it should have been safe. I had no plans to use the villa myself until the time of the vintage. But circumstances intervened.’ He shrugged. ‘You are unfortunate, signorina. You could so easily have enjoyed your holiday uninterrupted and innocently unaware that your occupation was illegal.’
The last word seemed to hang in the air between them, raising all kinds of disturbing implications.
Lucy shivered. She said, ‘I’m not sure enjoyment is the word.’
‘No?’ The amber eyes surveyed her reflectively. ‘Yet you are dressed for an evening of pleasure.’
Lucy gritted her teeth. That damned dress, she thought.
‘A bad mistake,’ she said. ‘Like the entire trip.’ She forced a smile. ‘And being mugged was really the last straw anyway. I didn’t
