Two storeys high and what looked like at least six rooms wide, the beautiful stone building stood, box like, against a background of beautifully manicured greenery dotted with lazy bees and butterflies. She almost laughed. She needed someone to pinch her but wanted to stay in this strange place that she could so easily
fall in love with. She feared falling back down to earth with a very harsh bump.
Sebastian had paused halfway up the steps and, perfectly framed by the three arched domes in the centre of the estate’s façade, looked at her as if she were on display rather than his wealth, his home...his sanctuary.
She walked around the car, over to where his hand was outstretched, and braced herself for the tingles and shivers that his touch always caused. He led her through the front door and down a terracotta-floored corridor. Shafts of sunlight fell on the tiles from the door at the end, making the hallway feel warm and rich and welcoming. She passed an office on the right-hand side, just before a staircase that clung to the side of the hallway leading to the upper level. On the left, she could see a large living area with a fireplace and mantel that drew her gaze, but Sebastian kept on towards the door at the back and the moment that she followed him through the door she could see why.
It was spectacular. She felt as if she’d sneaked into paradise.
A table and two chairs in white wrought iron were set with lunch and a pitcher of what looked like cool lemonade, the scent of sweet citrus hanging in the air. The borders were lush with large evergreens in silver and blue, box trees had been proudly manicured into appealing shapes and large pots of bay created a path to where purple wisteria hung over a metal arch above the table to provide shade from the strong summer’s sun.
‘And this just happened to be here waiting for us?’
‘Not at all. I would imagine my very good staff spent hours slaving over hot stoves to present you with this feast.’
They reached the table and she inhaled the beautiful scent of fresh garden herbs.
‘Me?’
Sebastian grimaced. ‘Are you happy to amuse yourself for an hour or so? I have business to attend to,’ he said, cupping her chin with his hand, his thumb pressed gently against the centre of her bottom lip. In an instant the fire that was always there, waiting to be fanned into life, roared.
Reluctantly, he let her go. ‘You can go anywhere you like in the estate, apart from the basement.’ Then he kissed her on the forehead and, before Sia could even think to ask any questions, he disappeared.
It was the first time Sebastian had gone against their agreement. He’d promised her that nothing in his life would be off-limits, yet in seconds the excitement that she had felt at being in Italy, at being in Sebastian’s home had turned to ash, making her stomach ache and killing her appetite.
It was that same seesawing feeling that she got when something was wrong. Like the way she’d felt when she’d seen Sebastian take the boat out to the yacht. She pressed her hand against her stomach, trying to soothe the feeling away with gentle circles.
Was it a double bluff, perhaps? Did he think that she was going to search the house for the painting? Did he want her to focus on the basement rather than another part of the house in the hope that she might miss something hiding in plain sight? No matter what happened between them, she couldn’t lose sight of why she was here. Her job. Returning with the painting or with proof. Even if the lines of who was right and who was wrong had become blurred. Even if she thought Sebastian might have already stolen something far more precious to her than the painting.
Sia started on the second floor of the house and she couldn’t help but remember doing the same thing in the house in Knightsbridge. Only this actually felt like a home. The colours were mostly earthy in tone, warm terracotta, soothing cream, soft greys from natural stone and wood. The fresh life-giving green from the outside had been brought inside by trailing indoor ivy in the bathrooms, which loved being near the large, bright, south-facing windows. The powerful midday sun beamed into spacious bedrooms, each taking their colour cues from one large dominant painting. It all called to an unknown yearning within Sia. A yearning for something so much like this.
The paintings reminded her of the ones by Astou Ndiaye, most by seemingly unknown artists but each were exquisite, stunning and mostly abstract, as seemed to be Sebastian’s preference, and her mind began to wander away from Durrántez and instead to Sebastian. Was it jealousy she was beginning to feel as she wondered what it would have been like to be ‘discovered’ by Sebastian? To have a patron who believed in her art, in her and what she could achieve? But, even as she had the thought, she bit her lip and realised that perhaps she did know what that felt like—to be discovered by him, to be encouraged and championed, to be challenged and to rise to meet that challenge.
Not the challenge of this game they seemed to be playing. It went deeper than that as, no matter what might happen with the painting, Sia couldn’t deny that she had been changed by him, made to question herself, her job, her choices. And rightly so.
She was about to leave the upper floor when the sound of wheels on the gravel drive drew her attention to the window looking out on the front of the estate. There was a large grey van and several men in uniforms stepped out and walked to where Sebastian was ready to greet them.
She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she could see them shaking hands and nodding. The uniformed men went to the back of the van and Sebastian stood back as they removed something. It was a reasonably small wooden crate, the kind used to store and move paintings. The kind that was the perfect size for the Durrántez.
Her heart clenched and her skin prickled painfully. Was he planning to sneak it into the estate without her knowing? Did he intend to keep it hidden in the basement or would he share it with her? And if he did, what then?
As her mind raced through the possible implications she realised that seeing the painting would make it real. That she’d finally have to make a choice. In the last week she’d been living out the most beautiful fantasy—one of incredible experiences and impossible pleasures. But it was just that. A fantasy.
But if he shared the painting with her then the fantasy would disappear and she’d be forced to choose between him and the painting. And for the first time since this whole thing started she wasn’t sure what to do.
She stood looking out of the window long after Sebastian had disappeared inside with the crate, after the men in uniforms had driven away and long after Sebastian’s allotted ‘hour or so’ had passed as she contemplated whether the fantasy was one he’d invited her to step into or one he’d enticed her in to, to cover his tracks.
Sebastian felt a twinge of uncertainty. He’d not seen Sia that afternoon though, in all fairness, he’d been distracted by a minor wrangling in the New York hotel and by the time it had been resolved it was nearly five p.m. He’d thought she might have found herself something to do, or been resting, but as the day drew into dusk he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that, despite his best intentions, the evening might not quite go as planned. He’d known that telling her an area of the estate was off-limits was a risk, but had decided it was worth it. Something he still believed.
When Sia finally arrived in the living room she took his breath away. The dress was of a similar style to the one she had worn in Victoriana, but this one was the colour of honey. Rich, alluring, evocative. As if she’d dressed with the sole purpose of driving him out of his mind. Which was why it took him a moment to see that Sia was braced, as if ready for some kind of hurt, and he couldn’t quite tell why.
‘Are you okay?’ he said, fighting the urge to close the distance between them, instinctively knowing that it could cause her to flee.
‘Yes.’
Sebastian bit his tongue. Clipped, one-word answers weren’t Sia’s usual style. Giving in to temptation, he crossed the room, stopping barely a foot from her. Sia couldn’t meet his gaze and he closed down the bitter laugh he felt rising. He hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d declared her a terrible actress. In an instant he knew what she had thought of his request, what conclusion she’d drawn. And could he deny that she was right to do so? Justified, even, after everything he’d done?
He took a breath. ‘I had a plan. For how this evening would go. But...’ He trailed off, realising that it didn’t matter what he said, how he might explain things. The only way would be to show her. ‘Come with me?’ he asked, his hand held out just like he had done hours before. She nodded, only this time she didn’t take his hand, leaving his fingers to close on thin air.