‘And what about me?’ Her eyes were bright. ‘It’s my flat they’ve trashed Carlo. Mine.’
‘I can put that right.’ His jaw tightened. ‘And as for you personally you’ve been watched every minute of the day since we met. I would never put you in danger—’
One of the policemen cleared his throat. ‘We need to fingerprint this place.’
Carlo nodded and moved out into the corridor, taking Zan by the arm. ‘Listen, I’m going to take you somewhere safe until this is over.’
She shook his arm off and turned to look at the man who’d been following her. ‘And who’s he? One of your henchmen?’
Carlo frowned at her description. ‘He’s my father’s chief of security and he’s the best there is. He’s had you in his sight from the day after you met me.’
‘Well, if that’s supposed to make me feel better then I’m afraid it doesn’t.’ Zan stared at him, her mind working overtime. ‘Was he the reason you knew I went to Kelly’s?’
Carlo hesitated and then nodded, and she turned to Matt, tears glistening in her eyes.
‘So if you’re so good, why didn’t you stop them trashing my flat?’
‘I wasn’t watching your flat. I was watching you,’ Matt said quietly, his eyes sympathetic. ‘Look, I can understand why you’re upset, but Carlo wasn’t in a position to tell you. Try and understand. He’d only just met you—he didn’t know you well enough to trust you.’
‘Is that so?’ She planted herself in front of Carlo, brushing away the tears that trickled down her cheek. ‘You knew me well enough to go to bed with me and say that you loved me, just not well enough to be honest and tell me who you really were.’
Carlo tensed. ‘Zan, listen, we—’
‘I don’t want to listen. I just want you to answer me something honestly.’ Her voice was hoarse as she interrupted him. ‘Clearly everyone knows who you are, and I suppose I should have recognised you, too. I’ve seen your picture often enough in those stupid glossy magazines. But I didn’t. And what I want to know is why a multimillionaire would be interested in me. What were you doing, Carlo? Slumming it?’ She stepped closer to him, her small fists clenched by her sides, her green eyes on fire. ‘Were you finding out how the other half live? Using me as a distraction for your brief spell in exile?’
‘Dio, it wasn’t like that.’ His words were heavily accented and she could tell that he was longing to break into Italian. ‘It’s true that it was a refreshing change, being with someone who didn’t know who I was, but that had nothing to do with our relationship.’
‘It had everything to do with it,’ she said flatly, the anger suddenly subsiding. In its place was a numbness that slowly worked its way through her whole body. ‘You could have told me who you were if you’d wanted to. But you didn’t trust me enough. I was good enough to sleep with, but not good enough to confide in.’
He frowned. ‘That isn’t true.’
‘Yes, it is. You didn’t trust me, did you, Carlo?’
He hesitated a fraction too long. ‘You have to understand something—’
‘I understand everything. Our whole relationship has been based on a lie, hasn’t it? So tell me one more thing.’ She tilted her head on one side, her green eyes challenging him. ‘Just how much money have you got, Carlo?’
He sucked in a breath. ‘Enough.’
‘Which, roughly translated, means that you’re loaded,’ she said. ‘That toy Ferrari I gave you this morning—you gave it a really odd look. You’ve got the grown-up version at home, haven’t you?’
He had the grace to look uncomfortable. ‘Yes, but—’
Half a million pounds’ worth of car.
‘And the earrings…’ A thought occurred to her and she stuck her hand in her pocket and removed them. She stared down at them, sparkling in her palm, a vivid and cruel reminder of what they’d shared only that morning. ‘Oh, my God…’
How could she have been so naïve?
She studied them, speechless. Then she thrust them into his hand.
‘They’re real, aren’t they?’
‘Yes.’ Carlo met her gaze head-on and she shook her head in disbelief.
‘You did the Lottery with me, you helped me plan how you’d spend the money, and all the time you’ve got more money than you know what to do with.’
‘Zan, you’re not making any sense.’ His tone held a hint of exasperation. ‘So I’ve got money. Why does that matter? You’re always planning how you’d spend money—well, now you can spend it.’