Chapter Four
Melanie was furious. ‘Where on earth have you been all this time? I waited around for hours and then decided I’d missed you somehow, so I came back to the hotel, thinking I’d find you here. I was worried stiff. I thought you might have got lost. I was just about to get the hotel to ring the police and organise a search for you.’
‘I’m sorry, I ran into Sebastian.’
As she had expected Melanie exploded at the news. ‘You’re kidding! You’ve been with that bastard? Are you crazy? No, don’t bother to answer that, I know you are. What have you been doing with him all this time? No, don’t answer that, either – I suppose you’ve been in his room.’
Laura felt herself go scarlet and was angry enough to snap back, ‘We weren’t here at the hotel and we weren’t alone. He took me to see the house where he was born.’
Melanie blinked furiously, her shoulders moving as if she was ruffling feathers, which made her look like an agitated parrot. ‘You mean he really was born here? And I always thought that must be a myth he invented for himself. Film people are always doing that, building their own legend because the truth about them is really pretty ordinary. So, what was the place like?’
‘Extraordinary. He hadn’t exaggerated by a hair, honestly. It was what he said it was, a palazzo, right on the Grand Canal, medieval. They call it Ca’ d’Angeli, the house of angels, because the outer walls are covered with them, such beautiful carving, little cherubs and tall stone archangels with these wonderful wings – it took my breath away.’
‘I thought nothing would ever surprise me again,’ Melanie said. ‘But it seems I was wrong.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘Hang on, did you actually go inside? I mean, how do you know he wasn’t just spinning a line? How do you know he really was born there?’
‘You’re so cynical! We did go inside. I met the people who own it, the d’Angeli family. They’ve always lived there, since it was built, they’re Venetian aristocrats. His father worked for them – Sebastian isn’t one of the family. He just lived there with his parents.’ Laura saw the curiosity stirring in Melanie’s shrewd eyes and knew what questions were coming next so she hurried on before her friend could interrupt. ‘I met the two who are left, the Contessa d’Angeli and her son, Niccolo. He’s fabulous-looking, tall, dark and very sexy. He’s a sculptor. You should see the rooms, full of the most wonderful antiques and paintings and tapestries. Priceless, all of them. I was afraid to touch anything in case I broke it.’
‘I wish I’d been able to see the place,’ Melanie said discontentedly. ‘I suppose you just forgot you promised to meet me.’
‘I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go with him but Sebastian kind of kidnapped me. I bumped into him and he persuaded me to go for a gondola ride with him and we ended up at Ca’ d’Angeli, which wasn’t what I’d intended at all.’
Melanie stared at her. ‘Laura, have you forgotten what happened to his wife? Do you want to end up the same way?’
Luckily they were in Laura’s room with the door shut, but Laura couldn’t help looking nervously around in case Melanie’s raised voice could be overheard. She lowered her own, scolding softly, ‘Mel, you mustn’t say things like that! Whatever you suspect, the inquest cleared Sebastian—’
‘On the evidence of that creepy secretary of his! She wouldn’t think twice about lying for him, you know that. I wouldn’t believe anything she said. No. He chucked his wife out of that window – everybody thinks he did it.’
Agonised, Laura cried out, ‘Don’t say that! You know, if anyone overheard you and repeated what you’d said Sebastian could sue you for every penny you’ve got!’
Luckily, the prospect of losing money had its usual effect on Melanie, who sighed and subsided. ‘There’s no justice. But it’s just as well I didn’t know you were with him – I’d have been far more worried and I might have said a damn sight too much in the bar while I was waiting. Stay away from him, Laura. If your sense of self-preservation doesn’t stop you, at least think of the bad publicity! People will talk, you know.’ She met Laura’s derisive eyes and had the grace to go a little pink, muttering, ‘Well, what can you expect? You don’t want people believing that you were the reason why he did it, do you?’ She held up her hand as Laura stirred angrily. ‘I know, I know, he’s as innocent as a newborn lamb. But that isn’t what people believe. So, promise me you won’t see him again.’
‘I’m having breakfast with him tomorrow,’ Laura told her flatly.
‘You’re what?’ Melanie went bright red.
‘In his suite. Nobody else will see us so you needn’t worry.’
‘I don’t believe I’m hearing this! You need a full-time minder – do you know that? You are not meeting him, Laura. I won’t let you get involved with him again. In any case, I’ve already fixed a working breakfast at ten o’clock with Sam Beethoven – he never gets up any earlier, it was quite a concession he made in agreeing to be up by ten – and he could do so much for your career. He’s the most powerful producer at the festival. It shows how hot you’re getting that he wanted to meet you. And at half past eleven we’re having brunch on the terrace with some people from Hollywood. I’m not sure what’s behind their interest but they have a lot of clout and we don’t want to offend them. So you can ring Sebastian Ferrese and tell him your date with him is off.’
‘I can’t do that! And it isn’t a date, exactly, anyway. I’m meeting him at eight o’clock and it’s business.’
‘Oh, sure! Pull the other one, Laura. Sebastian Ferrese is a genius at mixing business and pleasure where women are concerned.’
‘Mel, he has a new project, a film he wants to make in Venice. Do you remember that big bestseller, The Lily, by Frederick Canfield? Set in Italy in the thirties and forties? It’s about a rich Italian family with two sons who both fall in love with the same girl and become deadly enemies over her.’
‘Never heard of it, but the storyline is as old as the hills.’
‘The difference with this book is that one brother is a Fascist and the other is a Communist, who later joins the partisans on the outbreak of war. The Fascist brother is ca
ptured by the partisans at the end of the war, and it’s his own brother who executes him.’
‘Sounds a jolly little tale – typical storyline for Sebastian Ferrese,’ Melanie muttered. Her stomach rumbled and she swore. ‘I’m dying for my dinner – get ready and let’s go down.’ She walked over to the mini-bar and opened it, studied the contents, chose a packet of potato crisps and a can of Diet Coke.
‘Oh, for pity’s sake, Mel, don’t stuff that crap into yourself,’ Laura objected, as Melanie tore open the crisps. ‘You’ll ruin your appetite.’
‘Fuck off. And hurry up, will you?’
Laura went into the bathroom, peeled off her sweat-slick clothes and dropped them into the laundry basket. The Italian heat was exhausting – why did they have the festival in August? Watching films in this appalling temperature, even in air-conditioned theatres, was no picnic, and walking about today she had felt as if she was in a sauna.