Yet again the question fired in Bastiaan’s head. How far has this infatuation gone? What is Philip hiding?
But surely his instincts were correct? Philip was not radiating the aura of a young man who had achieved possession of the object of his desire and devotion. He was still worshipping at the altar.
A silent growl of raw, male satisfaction rasped through him. Its occurrence did not please him. Just the opposite. Damnation—the very thought that he could be glad that Philip was still merely mooning over the delectable blonde singer for any other reason than that it meant that it would be easier separating him from Sabine, extricating him from her toils, was unacceptable.
He changed the subject deliberately. ‘So—tonight... Do you want to come over to Monte? We can eat out and you can stay at my apartment.’
Again, it was a deliberate trail, to discover whether Philip would otherwise have been heading towards La Belle Sabine for a midnight tryst...
To his satisfaction Philip was perfectly amenable to this suggestion, helping Bastiaan to confirm his judgement that, however besotted Philip was with the woman, it had not yet progressed to anything more...tangible.
Then another, more unwelcome thought struck him. Is she holding out on bestowing herself upon him until he has control over his own funds?
Was that her game plan? His expression hardened as they left the club. He was looking forward to lunch tomorrow—it would give him more time to study her. Assess her.
All for the sake of rescuing his cousin, of course. Not for any other reason...
None that he would permit.
* * *
‘Stop!’ Max threw his hand up impatiently. ‘I said sostunuto, not diminuendo! If you can’t tell the difference, Sarah, believe me—I can! Take it again.’
Sarah drew her breath in sharply but said nothing, though her jaw was set. Max was being particularly tyrannical this morning, and Alain, her tenor, playing The Soldier, was fractious. So wa
s she, she admitted to herself. She was hitting vocal difficulties all over the place, and it was frustrating the hell out of her. The rehearsal session was not going smoothly and Max was finding fault with all of them. Nerves were getting jittery all round.
She shut her eyes to center herself.
‘In your own time, Sarah,’ came Max’s sarcastic prompt.
Somehow her next attempt managed to assuage him, and he turned his exacting attention to Alain and his apparently many flaws, before resuming his attack on Sarah for the next passage that displeased him.
By the time he dismissed her Sarah felt ragged. She definitely needed fresh air and a change of environment. For the first time she actually felt grateful that she was to have the afternoon off, courtesy of Philip’s invitation. As she scooped up her bag she heard Max start in on the alto and the baritone, and hurried to make her escape from the fraught atmosphere.
Philip had texted to say he’d pick her up from her pension, where she headed now to change into something suitable for having lunch at a millionaire’s villa on the exclusive Cap Pierre.
Just what constituted ‘suitable’? she pondered.
In the end there was only one outfit that was possible. It was one she’d bought when she’d first arrived in France to join the opera company, after the school term had ended. It wasn’t her usual floaty, floral style, but a chic sixties-style shift in a shade of green that suited her fair colouring.
She pushed her hair back with a white band, and completed the retro look with pastel lipstick, frosted eyeshadow and a lot of eyeliner.
She studied her reflection—yes, definitely more Sabine than Sarah. Just what she needed.
‘Oh, my goodness!’ she exclaimed as she stepped outdoors and immediately saw the low, lean, bright red Ferrari parked there.
‘Isn’t it a beauty?’ Philip said lovingly. ‘It’s Bast’s. He keeps it in Monte Carlo—he has an apartment there as well—and he’s letting me drive it today.’
He sounded awestruck at the prospect.
‘Bast’s already at the villa,’ Philip explained, helping her into the low, luxurious passenger seat. ‘So...’ He looked at her expectantly, his eyes alight, as he started the engine with a throaty growl. ‘What do you think?’
She gave a laugh. ‘Terrifying!’ she said feelingly.
He laughed, as though he could not possibly believe her, and moved off. He was obviously thrilled by driving such a powerful, fabulous car, and Sarah wisely let him concentrate. The road leading out on to the Cap was a residential one, with a modest speed limit.
It was only five minutes to the villa, and she could see Philip’s reluctance to abandon the vehicle when he arrived. It seemed, she thought dryly, and not with regret, that she finally had a rival.