Chapter Six
It was funny, thought Olivia. The day before, Marcus had looked as beguiling as ever.
But now, sitting in front of him in the café with nothing to distract her, she could see the flaws.
It was like looking at a bad painting, the kind that dazzled you from afar but showed up its imperfections on closer inspection.
There were dark circles around his eyes, which were faintly bloodshot.
His teeth were discoloured, from too much coffee and red wine.
His hand shook slightly when he picked up his cup – was he nervous?
And his clothes were threadbare, faded, and had the faint whiff of charity shop: stale, with a base note of dry-cleaning fluid and mothballs.
He held no power over her any more. Christopher had put her back together and restored her faith in love, and that was better than revenge.
Far more wholesome. But she wasn’t going to let Marcus get away with it altogether.
She needed to do something. Was that petty, she wondered?
Maybe, but it would give her a sense of satisfaction.
And the perfect opportunity had presented itself. Timing was everything.
‘An auctioneer!’ he was saying now. ‘You fulfilled your dream. That really is something to be proud of.’
‘I’m very proud,’ she answered. ‘It took me a while to make my way to the top, but I’m there.’
‘I’d love to see you in action.’ The innuendo was dripping from him. It made her stomach roil slightly, to think that once she would have revelled in his flirtation. He really did think he still had it.
At the next table, Rebecca pretended to be scrolling on her phone, but in fact she was listening intently to their conversation.
She was wearing a beanie pulled down low over her hair, and a dupe padded jacket from her dad’s market stall that she’d packed in case the temperature fell.
She was pretty sure neither Marcus nor Olivia would recognise her.
She was adept at making herself invisible when she wanted to be.
Curiosity had brought her to the café, after the conversation she’d overheard yesterday.
She still couldn’t believe Olivia had been drawn back to Marcus – what was she thinking?
Somehow, he had managed to regain her trust. She watched as he leaned into Olivia and showered her with compliments.
She seemed to lap up every last word, gazing back at him as if he were the only man in the world.
Was she insane? Didn’t she know what she was jeopardising?
During the short flight from London, Rebecca could see Christopher was everything you could possibly want from a man.
Why would Olivia risk losing him for this lowlife?
It was all she could do not to walk over and interrupt their conversation, in the hope that it might bring Olivia to her senses.
‘I’m so glad we bumped into each other,’ Olivia was saying to Marcus, touching his sleeve. ‘There’s something you might be able to help me with.’
‘Go on.’ His eyes glittered with interest.
‘I’ve seen something rather special in a shop. I think it’s a sleeper.’
‘Oh?’ He perked up even more.
‘I haven’t bought it yet as I wanted to do a bit of research. And I didn’t want to show too much interest. But I’ve looked into it and I’m ninety-nine per cent certain it’s a Francesco Bertorelli.’
‘Nice.’ He nodded knowingly. ‘He’s becoming very popular.’
‘Exactly. I’ve been tracking him. He’s getting excellent prices. High five figures. I wondered if perhaps you could go and have a look for me? Let me know what you think.’
‘Well, of course,’ he said. ‘I’m very flattered you want my opinion.’
She put out her hand to take his across the table, lacing their fingers together. She gazed at him.
‘You taught me everything I know.’
This, of course, was not true at all. He had barely taught her anything, because he knew nothing. All his knowledge was regurgitated. It had no depth. She had spent years and years continuing her studies, learning from men and women far more erudite than him. And now she knew as much as anyone.
She saw a gleam of excitement in his eyes. She could almost hear his brain ticking over, weighing up the opportunity. She might only have spent one brief summer with him, but she knew how he worked. He would not be able to help himself.
He had, she realised, no soul. Just a never-ending desire to feed his own ego and profit from other people’s gullibility.
‘So where is this painting?’ he said, trying to keep his tone casual.
As she told him exactly where the shop was, she marvelled at how he managed to keep his face impassive. She knew he was already making a plan. A leopard did not change its spots.
Christopher’s emergency meeting that afternoon was over far more quickly than he had anticipated. His junior, Callum, had been meticulous in gathering the information they needed, and he felt proud of his protégé.
Within half an hour they had integrated the newly discovered figures into their report and adjusted their approach accordingly.
Satisfied it was watertight, and congratulating his team on work well done, Christopher decided he would head out to find Olivia and surprise her.
He’d felt awful about ruining almost a whole day of what was already a short honeymoon, so he would make it up to her. Perhaps Bellinis at Harry’s Bar?
He headed out of the hotel and into the street, looking her up on Find My Friends – they had activated location-sharing on their phones so they could keep track of each other if they were meeting up for the evening in London.
He saw she wasn’t too far away. It looked as if she was in a café.
He smiled at the thought of surprising her, and imagined her face lighting up.
He loved her happy-go-lucky approach to life, the way she embraced everything with such enthusiasm.
She was sunshine, he thought, and he began to walk faster, eager to find her as he opened the café door.
Inside, it was crowded. It was mid-afternoon on a cold day, and the scent of freshly ground coffee and pastries made his mouth water – he hadn’t eaten lunch. He scanned the tables and then he saw her. And his heart dropped.
She was sitting in the window.
With another man.
He was everything Christopher was not – soigné, debonair, handsome. Older than him, certainly, but distinguished. The sort of man women passed in the street and turned to look at. They were holding hands across the table, their fingers interlaced, deep in conversation.
Christopher remembered the first time she had done that to him, and how he had felt special, with the warmth of her skin on his, her eyes never leaving his face, the smile that lit her up from the inside. She was looking at this man in the same way.
Oh, he thought sadly. I’m not so special after all.
Marcus promised to text Olivia with his findings, as soon as he got a chance to see the painting.
‘I probably won’t get there until tomorrow, though. I’ve got another tour to do today.’ He tapped his watch to indicate he was in a hurry.
She bit her lip, feigning anxiety.
‘I hope no one else buys it.’
He gave her a reassuring smile. ‘I’m sure they won’t. Hold your nerve. It’s probably been there for months.’
She nodded. ‘It’s tucked right away at the back.’
‘Well done you for spotting it.’
‘You trained me well.’
He nodded modestly, then raised his hand to stroke her cheek gently. ‘It’s been wonderful to catch up with you, Olivia. You haven’t changed a bit.’
She sat as still as she could as she felt his fingers on her, trying not to show her revulsion.
She shut her eyes, because then she wouldn’t have to look at him, and she willed him to stop but he kept on stroking her skin, then ran his thumb across her mouth.
She remembered that move of old – how once she had thought she might die of ecstasy at his very touch.
Now, it was all she could do not to bite him, savagely, until she drew blood. Thank goodness he stopped.
‘I have to go,’ he said. ‘I mustn’t keep my clients waiting.’
She nodded as he stood up and bent down to kiss her, steeling herself for the touch of his lips on hers. He held the kiss for a moment too long and she tried not to shudder. She wanted to scream.
‘I’ve dreamed of seeing you, for so many years,’ he murmured. He held a pretend phone to his ear. ‘I’ll call you.’
She nodded, smiling up at him in farewell, then breathed a sigh of relief as he left the café and walked into the slipstream of the crowds in the square.
She stood up, realising he had gone without paying for their coffee.
She rolled her eyes and signalled for the bill, hoping Christopher’s meeting would be done by now.
She needed the reassurance of his solidity, his integrity.
Marcus had made her feel slightly soiled.
Christopher turned away from the café and walked across the square with his hands in his pockets and his eyes to the ground, unable to believe what he had just seen.
A stranger stroking her face, her eyes shut.
Their lingering farewell kiss. His promise to call.
What was going on? And who was he? Someone Olivia knew only too well, by the looks of things. Someone she had planned to meet.
He stumbled back to the hotel, his head down.
What was that saying? ’Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
He wasn’t sure that was true, though no doubt he would learn to live with the pain, like a knife under his ribs.
At the moment, he was blocking it out, for he needed to focus on getting out of this city with its magic, its colour, its glitter – the epitome of romance. He would never come here again.