‘Would you like anything else?’
‘No, thank you,’ she said, mustering up a smile of her own and fighting back a blush at having been caught staring. ‘That was amazing. I’m stuffed.’
‘Then I’ll get the bill.’
What? The bill? That was unexpected. He’d all but promised her a seduction. She’d been braced for it and equally prepared to use it as leverage. If she was being honest, she’d been looking forward to it. To the challenge, naturally. Instead, Rico was catching the eye of a waiter and calling him over with a quick scribble in the air, clearly keen to be rid of her.
‘Really?’ she said, unable to prevent the frown she could feel creasing her forehead.
‘It’s late.’
True, but still. ‘So that’s it?’
‘What else were you expecting?’
Good question. She was exhausted. She wasn’t here on a date. She should be glad that the chemistry between them had evaporated and he no longer wanted her in that way. It mattered not one jot why he’d changed his mind. She wasn’t interested in that in the slightest. Yet she was nowhere near achieving her mission. She’d barely even started. ‘You said dinner could prove interesting.’
‘I was wrong.’
‘I disagree.’
‘Too bad.’
Okay. So that was a bit rude, but he both sounded and looked resolute and she never begged for anything these days. Adaptability and flexibility were key in her line of work and she had both in spades. She also had his number. Her flight was scheduled for tomorrow evening, so she had all day to bombard him with phone calls until he realised that he felt the way about the Finn situation she wanted him to. Now that she’d established contact she wasn’t going to give it up without a fight. Finn and Georgie deserved more than that, and coming all this way was not going to have been for nothing.
‘I see,’ she said, pulling herself together and aiming for breezy. ‘Well, then. Thank you for dinner.’
‘You’re welcome,’ he said, his expression dark and unfathomable. ‘I’ll see you to your hotel.’
So she could be subjected to further insult along the way? She didn’t think so. ‘There’s no need.’
‘I’d like to.’
‘Why?’
‘You’re a tourist and an easy target.’
‘I may not have been to Venice,’ she said a tad archly, ‘but I have travelled extensively, often alone. I am perfectly capable of getting myself to a hotel in a strange city.’
‘Humour me. Where are you staying?’
‘The first hotel that came up with any availability.’
‘Which is?’
‘I don’t remember the name,’ she had to admit, never more regretting that she didn’t have the answer to hand. ‘Unsurprisingly, when I was making plans this afternoon everything was a bit of a rush. The details are on my phone. There wasn’t a lot to choose from. Most places seemed to be fully booked.’
‘It’s high season.’
‘So I gathered.’
While Rico paid the waiter, who then started whisking away their empty plates, Carla twisted to unhook her bag from the back of her chair. Her lovely, expensive designer bag that contained her passport, her cards, her cash, her keys and her phone—virtually her entire life.
Her bag that was no longer there.
It wasn’t under her chair, she realised, her blood running cold, her heart pounding and the food in her stomach turning to lead. It wasn’t beneath the table. It wasn’t anywhere.
‘What’s the matter?’ asked Rico, who sounded as if he were six feet below the surface of a distant canal.