smudges of color.
He had no memory of how he walked through the crowds to the French doors overlooking the terrace. He’d only remember the feeling of wading through air like water, feeling like he couldn’t breathe.
Outside in the cold air, he heard his assistant behind him as he walked across the Spanish terrace, looking out into the manicured tropical gardens, lush beneath the moonlight.
But he saw nothing. No one.
Waves of relief went over him. There was no one here. Reason returned to his brain and he started to turn back to Marnie. “You were mistaken—”
Then he saw a gleam of pink chiffon from the corner of his eye. A flash of Lola’s long blond hair.
And Rodrigo saw, in the shadows on the other side of the terrace, the sickening sight of another man embracing his wife.
“Do not worry, zvezda moya,” he heard the Russian croon, holding Lola tenderly in his arms. “You are safe now. With me.”
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