‘Actually I...is Cesare around?’
Anna shook her head, and then, remembering that Angel couldn’t see her, dropped the fake smile and said, ‘No.’ She watched him on the screen, stalking down the red carpet and distracting the bubbly female presenter from her designated Hollywood targets and using the minor royal on his arm as an excuse to shove a microphone in his face and touch his arm...repeatedly.
Cesare, looking dark and enigmatic, produced a curt monosyllabic response to the woman’s gushing questions but this did not seem to throw her at all.
‘That’s something.’
‘I don’t suppose...do you have your passport with you?’
‘I think so,’ Anna confirmed dully. The minor royal, looking visibly amused, seemed content to stand back and watch as the interviewer became increasingly flirtatious. And why not? She could afford to smile; she knew that behind closed doors he was all hers.
Jealousy, Anna discovered, was not just a state of mind. It involved physical pain.
‘That’s great.’ The relief in Angel’s voice was tangible. ‘I have the most enormous favour to ask.’
Anna half listened, growing more attentive when Cesare and his partner walked into the theatre and escaped the media scrutiny. Angel got Anna’s full attention when she realised the favour involved her getting on a plane and putting several hundred air miles between her and Cesare. She was more than happy to agree to Angel’s plan and, Angel being Angel, she had everything organised down to the last detail.
Anna was so happy it didn’t even cross her mind to ask why Angel’s plans had changed.
‘Your tickets will be at the airport and probably best not to give Jas anything heavy to eat as she’s not the greatest traveller in the world. I’ll meet you at the airport and take you back to the hotel. I’ve booked you into one of the garden bungalows for a week.’
‘That’s lovely of you, but actually I can’t stay so this trip—it’s just the airport for me. I’ll deliver Jas to you and then have to fly straight back to the UK. I’ve got an interview on Thursday.’ She had intended to tell Cesare that today, and secretly she had hoped he would—what? Beg her not to go? Suggest they stay in touch? Look mildly unhappy? God, how had she let this happen? How had she been so stupid?
‘Oh, no, why didn’t you say? Forget I asked. I’ll sort something else. I had hoped not to get Cesare involved but—no problem. So tell me about the job.’
‘The school has an excellent reputation,’ Anna said, trying to inject the enthusiasm she knew she should be feeling into her voice. ‘But there’s no reason I can’t bring Jas out. I want to help, really.’
‘You can’t fly out here, turn around and fly back. Definitely not,’ Angel protested. ‘I couldn’t ask you to do that.’
‘You’re not asking. I’m offering to chaperone Jasmine.’
‘It would be good to keep Cesare out of this until it’s sorted,’ Angel admitted. ‘Obviously I’ll let him know once Jas is here.’
‘Obviously.’ Actually there was nothing obvious about any of this to Anna.
‘It’s just Cesare...he can be a bit overprotective.’
Not of me, Anna thought bitterly.
‘You really wouldn’t mind?’
‘Not at all.’
‘You’re a star,’ Angel enthused. ‘And you haven’t even asked why I want you to bring Jas out here. I was going to say don’t ask, but it’s not a secret, or it won’t be soon. The fact is, I want Jas to meet her father.’
‘Wow!’
A nervous laugh came down the line and a breathless, ‘Pretty wow, but don’t say anything to Jas.’
‘Of course not.’
‘Or, of course, Cesare.’
‘Don’t worry.’
* * *
Leaking patience from every pore by the time he had made a rapid tour of the castle and immediate grounds, Cesare was in a dangerous mood. He had left the glittering party midway through, abandoned his beautiful partner, probably offending one of his best friends in the process. He rather doubted he would still be best man at their wedding that summer. He’d driven up from London.
Had he been a man in a desert seeking life-sustaining water the urgency that held him in its grip during that journey could not have been greater.
Cesare stared at his housekeeper in disbelief. ‘What do you mean gone? Where has she gone to?’