CHAPTER NINETEEN
Sapphire had the weekend off work and would normally make the most of it, catching up with her cousin and shopping for frivolous items, but this time she spent most of it stewing in a hot flush of indecision, wondering if she could ever face Marco again.
She’d been tempted to talk her problem through with Finbar, knowing that his ironic spin on it, would make it appear amusing and less serious. Much as she adored him, though, she wasn’t sure he could keep such a juicy piece of news under wraps. Hot gossip was embedded in Finbar’s DNA and Sapphire knew it would kill him to keep quiet. So she kept it to herself, her body heating up with humiliation every time she recalled the romantic interlude she longed to forget.
Her mobile rang, stirring her out of her quandary, and the unmistakable melodic timbre of Marco’s voice resonated throughout her flat. ‘Sapphire, I’m assuming you are fit for duty?’
She would have laughed if she wasn’t so miserable. So, that’s how they were to play this out – he was back to acting all sergeant majorish and she would be pliant and submissive. Except she had no intention of doing as she was told anymore, and if he didn’t like it then he could lump it. ‘Yes, of course, but don’t make me sound like some sort of commando; I’m not going off to fight in the Congo.’
‘I have business to attend to, so I shall be away for a few days. Some of the crew are due a firefighting refresher course, I just wanted to check that you knew about it.’
‘Yes, Marco, I’ve been doing this job perfectly well without your back-up, so don’t worry, I’ve booked a day at the fire station on Friday.’
‘Fine, it’s just … I wondered if you would be coming in to work, before I left.’
‘I have the weekend off, was there something you needed to discuss?’ She fiddled with her hair, hating their stilted conversation.
‘I thought it might be pertinent to have a chat.’
‘Oh?’ Her stomach swooped at his forbidding words. Hadn’t she been down this road before? She rested her head against the door frame, thinking fast. If he was going to dismiss her then he could do it in company time, not her own, because she was done with second-guessing him and trying to live up to his idea of a perfect employee. ‘I’m sorry, I’m very busy.’
‘Very busy – sitting at home?’
Bloody cheek. ‘Yes, I’m doing housework,’ she offered, gazing around at her immaculate flat.
There was silence for a moment until she heard yet another exasperated sigh from Marco.
‘Have a good trip, won’t you?’ she concluded lamely, hoping their conversation was finished.
There was a longer pause before he said, ‘No worries, I’ll see you shortly.’
She smiled into the phone. ‘Bye, and don’t call me Shortly.’ As soon as she said it she knew he wouldn’t get it. There was another pause, which she filled. ‘Sorry, it’s something Finbar says. It doesn’t matter.’
‘Ah, the ever-present Finbar and his witty banter.’
She caught the hostility in his voice and wondered why Finbar rattled him so much. It wasn’t the first time he’d shown his dislike of Finbar and she felt the need to stick up for him.
‘Well, he makes me smile, which is more than some people do.’ She ended the call, her heart heavy and her body weary. Her eyes were gritty from lack of sleep and she felt miserable and lost. Not for the first time, she thought about leaving her job to save her sanity. It would be wonderful not to have to deal with Marco and all his ambiguities. Tears filled her eyes. No, it wouldn’t be wonderful, it would be horrible. And therein lay the problem. She feared she was in love with Marco, and a more unsuitable man on this planet to fall in love with, did not exist.
She wrapped her arms around her chest as the age-old ache of rejection surfaced once more. It was forever present in her subconscious: in her mother’s desertion and her father’s remarriage – both of them happy to pack her off to a convent like the inconvenience she obviously was.
She tried to compose herself. Her old life was over and she was aware that she had not made a particularly good job of it, so far. The tight pain in her chest increased, crushing in its intensity at the thought that she had to start afresh.
She’d spent most of her life toughening up and wouldn’t allow one man to break down the walls she’d built around herself. Marco was clearly out of reach, and she was less important to him than a squashed frog on the road. She needed to deal with that fact and move on. A tear of self-pity glided down her cheek and she dashed it away determinedly. When another tear plopped onto her arm, she slid down on the sofa, finally giving in to the torrent of emotion she’d been bottling up. She reached for the tissue box, her shoulders heaving, as she accepted that there was not one person in the whole world who loved her as she wanted to be loved.
***
Marco didn’t for one moment stop to wonder if it was wise to call on Sapphire, or even if it was too early in the day; he simply pressed the doorbell and readied his large paper bag containing croissants and coffee: his peace offering.
She opened the door and his eyebrows lifted in surprise at her T-shirt that barely covered her bottom. He averted his eyes politely. ‘Thought it would be good to have that chat sooner rather than later.’ He offered up the bag, bearing the name of the café around the corner. ‘Croissants and coffee?’ he added, although the bag was pretty much a dead giveaway.
Sapphire’s eyes darted from his face to the paper bag and back again, reminding Marco of a trapped rabbit. Maybe it hadn’t been such a brilliant notion to visit one of his employees at home on a Sunday morning.
‘So, when you said you’d see me shortly, you meant … here at my home?’ She pointed down to her doorstep and gave him an uncertain smile.
‘Yes,’ he replied, his own smile frozen in place as he cursed himself silently. What on earth had he been thinking?
‘There’s a problem at work?’ she asked, shifting from one bare foot to the other.
‘No.’ An uninvited guest at a wedding party bearing an inappropriate gift would be welcomed more willingly than this, he thought, as various emotions played out over Sapphire’s face, none of them particularly encouraging. In fact, he was sure it was only her inherent good manners that stopped her from slamming the door in his face.
He deserved it, he knew, but he persisted. ‘If you keep me standing here much longer your feet will freeze to the step. ‘Plus,’ he rattled his bag, ‘if the coffee gets cold it tends to taste like an old ashtray.’
It occurred to him, far too late, that she might have male company, which would make him the biggest idiot ever. He stepped away from her door, preparing to retreat.
Sapphire sighed. ‘Oh, God, come in then,’ she relented, rubbing at her bare arms.
‘Great to see you too,’ he muttered as she led him along the hallway and into her kitchen.
‘This is the warmest part of the flat – underfloor heating.’ She gestured towards a stool pushed up against the tiny work counter. ‘Sit down.’
Marco sat and placed the croissants and coffee on her worktop. He scanned the tiny kitchen trying to focus on something apart from Sapphire’s breasts, undoubtedly braless under her thin T-shirt. He lowered his eyes, but then all he could see were her legs, long and tanned. He huffed out a breath; he was beginning to feel like a dirty old man. ‘I assume you haven’t eaten breakfast yet, looking at your attire. You have a penchant for boy bands?’
‘Oh, this?’ She looked down at her top with the picture of One Direction on the front. ‘We flew them to Newcastle a couple of years ago. Harry gave it to me.’ She plucked at the hem. ‘He was nice.’ She gazed at it for too long, as if hoping it would turn into something more glamorous than a washed-out T-shirt she slopped around the house in.
‘And you have black smudges under your eyes.’ He wished he had held his tongue. Not the best of lines, if he was honest, but her eyes looked as if she was on her way to a Halloween party and he thought she would rather know about it.
‘Thanks for that.’ She scrubbed underneath her eyes with one hand while trying to pull down her T-shirt with the other.
Marco watched in amusement. ‘Really, I’ve seen you in a worse state – I wouldn’t worry about it.’
Sapphire sighed. ‘Are you ever going to let that go?’
‘My memory is becoming politely hazy, as time goes by.’ He tried out a smile to put her at ease, beginning to wonder if he was the one needing assistance. He was normally in control of situations that he had initiated, but he was making a whole mess of this one. ‘Maybe we would both be more comfortable if you put some clothes on, but don’t do it on my account,’ he said, although he really did feel it would help if he could to look at her without having to focus intently on her shoulder or some other innocuous part of her body.
He picked out two croissants from the bag. ‘Chocolate or almond? We have both.’
Sapphire stared at him and then down at the bag.
‘Question too hard, is it? I’ll give you one of each. I happen to know you like cappuccino, so we’re on safe territory there.’ He lifted out two large, lidded paper cups and set them on the table, next to the plates.
Finally, Sapphire spoke. ‘This is all very cosy if unexpected. Can I ask why you are here?’
‘Well, I have a favour to ask.’
‘So, this is not about, err, the other night?’
‘The other night?’
‘Erm, I just wondered if …’ She trailed off and eyed him warily, waiting for an explanation.
Marco admired her honesty as he was having trouble himself processing what exactly had happened the other night, apart from the notion that he needed to apologise. He caught her eye and got ready to give her the speech he’d prepared.
‘I think I will get changed, if you’ll excuse me for a minute.’ She broke eye contact and hurried out of the kitchen, leaving Marco’s apology stuck in his throat.
He sipped his coffee and glanced around her flat, taking in the designer lights and quirky coffee table fashioned from glass and hewn wood. Two large and brightly coloured abstract pictures filled one wall, and smaller charcoals, grouped in squares, decorated another. The abstracts were spectacular and he edged towards them to take a closer look, inadvertently knocking off a haphazardly positioned blanket from the arm of the sofa.
As he bent down to pick it up he spotted an empty box of tissues, along with a pile of soggy tissues tucked in the corner of the sofa. So, that was why her eyes looked so wild – she’d been crying on the sofa. He stared at the snapshot scene that spelled out her unhappiness as he hugged the blanket to his chest, his heart going out to her. No one should be without someone to comfort them when they were in need.
He spun around guiltily as her bedroom door opened, expecting to see a sad Sapphire, but she emerged from the bedroom looking fresh and composed.
She shot him a puzzled glance and he reined in his expression, dropping the blanket back on to the sofa. ‘Great pictures – who painted them? I can’t see a signature.’ He waved a hand towards the largest image.
‘Oh those,’ she said airily, glancing up at the walls briefly. She headed for the kitchen without answering him and pulled up a stool. ‘Yummy,’ she chimed, tearing into a croissant. She lifted the lid from her coffee and inhaled the aroma.
Marco followed her back into the kitchen, bewildered. Only a few minutes before she’d acted as if breakfast was the worst idea in the world and yet now she was attacking her croissant as if she hadn’t eaten in weeks. He nodded slowly as realisation dawned. She was acting a part for some reason – to keep him at arm’s length, he would guess.
He glanced at the huge pictures once more, as if they would throw up their secret. Maybe her father was an artist, or had given them to her as some kind of inheritance. Whatever it was, she didn’t want to talk about it. It was no concern of his anyway; he was mostly just showing a polite interest.
Sapphire seemed noticeably edgy until he turned back to his own breakfast and the topic was forgotten. It was a timely reminder of her sensitivity, though, and it made him unaccountably nervous about what he was going to ask. He wanted Sapphire on his side and couldn’t, at that precise moment, come up with a better plan than the one he had hatched.
‘I have to go to the Isles of Scilly to look at a hotel. We’re thinking of turning it into an upmarket retreat and I can’t find anyone to come with me.’
‘And you want me to find someone?’
Marco wondered if she was being deliberately obtuse. He sipped his coffee while he contemplated his next words. ‘If that’s what you would prefer, although I was hoping you might like to join me.’
‘I’ve never been to the Scillies; I wouldn’t be of any use.’
He laughed. ‘Neither have I, and I’m not asking you to be a guide. I just want some womanly advice on the suitability of the location and the possible packages we could promote to tempt the richer clientele down there. Scilly has several Dark Sky Discovery Sites and you gave me an idea.’
‘Oh, what idea was that then?’ She pulled off another piece of croissant as she considered his offer.
‘I shall tell you that when we get there,’ he grinned.
‘Blatant bribery, then.’ She nodded.
‘Yup. Nice to see you do actually eat, by the way.’
‘You have a thing about my eating habits, don’t you?’
‘Not really, I just think you’re too thin.’ He gave her a shrewd look, catching the surprise in her eyes.
‘Thanks.’ She placed the piece of croissant back on her plate.
‘I’m sorry.’ He sighed inwardly. ‘I didn’t mean it disrespectfully, but I hardly ever see you eat. And also, I hate waste.’
Sapphire scoffed. ‘What would you know about waste apart from the fact that you can throw away whatever you want, knowing there will always be more where that came from?’
‘Don’t assume you know everything about me, Sapphire,’ Marco said evenly. ‘My life was not always as it is now. I was sent to live with my grandma on my mother’s side, in a very poor village for many years and learned a thing or two about managing to keep body and soul together. Maybe I have more of a hang-up than I thought. We are united in hang-ups.’ He patted her hand and she tensed.
He pulled away. ‘Sorry.’
‘No, don’t be – it’s my fault; I’m not a very touchy-feely person.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘I would never have guessed.’ He saw her eyes flash, immediately defensive, and prayed his comment wouldn’t start off another spat.
‘Sorry,’ Sapphire said.
‘It doesn’t matter.’ He waited. ‘So, what do you say?’
She stuffed a large piece of croissant in her mouth, as if to stop herself from answering, as his eyes lingered on hers. ‘I’d rather not, if you don’t mind,’ she said eventually, her eyes flat and solemn.
Marco deflated. He hadn’t considered that she might say no, and immediately wished he’d sent her an official itinerary instead, although that would undoubtedly have caused even more trouble, he reasoned. She really was the most contrary person.
‘Would it help if I said please? I believe it really is a beautiful place to visit.’
Sapphire broke off another piece of croissant and stared at her plate, giving no indication that she was mulling over his offer.
The silence lengthened and he deflated a bit more. Being turned down for a date, however it was dressed, was new territory for him. ‘If we don’t change direction, the airline will go down the pan, I’m afraid. I need to get a firm contract from a travel agent and this is the only way I can think of doing it.’ It was shameless, he knew, but he was pretty sure it would do the trick.
She turned solemn eyes up to him. ‘I suppose so, then – if we have no choice.’ She tried out a smile. ‘Okay,’ she added, apparently steeling herself to get used to the idea.
It wasn’t the most euphoric acceptance he’d ever had, but she had said yes, and he was going to hold her to it before she changed her mind. ‘Great. I’ll delegate the wonderful Finbar to hold fort while we’re gone.’ He tried hard to hide the sarcasm in his voice.
Sapphire bit her lip and glanced at the clock on her kitchen wall and Marco felt a kick of disappointment in his chest as he recognised an action that normally would be perpetrated by him. Another first, he thought, swallowing down the humiliating realisation that his time was up. Unlike most women, Sapphire was clearly desperate to get rid of him. He took a last gulp of his coffee and pushed to his feet. ‘I should go.’
‘I’ll see you out.’ Sapphire scraped her stool back rather too eagerly and it was all Marco could do to sit down again and refuse to leave. Knowing he had no choice, he followed her back down the hallway, thanking her as she turned the catch on the door. He appreciated how door-to-door salesmen must feel when outstaying their welcome.
Marco eyed Sapphire for a moment as a pang of insecurity hit him. She was watching him quietly, her eyes sad, her face wan, and he found he wanted to make her happy. He wanted to see the smile that lit up her face so readily for Finbar.
He hovered at her doorway, longing to tell her that he was sorry about the night in Edinburgh – but the timing wasn’t right; he’d left it too late. In the end, he settled for raising a hand towards her face, hating the way she tensed as he brushed her lips with his thumb. ‘Piece of croissant,’ he said.
‘Oh,’ she said, throatily, her fingertips tracing over the place Marco had touched. ‘Marco?’ She sighed and rested her head against the door frame, giving him a level stare.
‘Yes?’ He knew she didn’t want to go away with him and didn’t intend to let her back out. They were going to spend some time together, whether she liked it or not.
‘Is it wise that we do this?’
‘Do what?’
She shrugged. ‘You know.’
He did know – and his ego wilted even more. ‘It’s simply business, Sapphire.’
‘Yes, I know that.’ She sounded doubtful and her gaze wandered in every direction apart from his. ‘Just for a couple of days, you say?’ Her voice was a quiver of concern. She toyed with a silver necklace at her throat and shifted from foot to foot again.
‘Sapphire, is there something you’d like to talk through?’ It was clear that she was upset and he wanted to help, but he wasn’t exactly having an easy time of it himself.
‘No. God, no. Everything’s fine.’ She was worrying at the necklace again, her fingers zinging up and down the chain.
He wished they could be more open with each other. ‘Just bring your normal travel bag and I shall send a car at nine thirty. You’ll enjoy it, I promise.’
‘Fine.’
‘Great,’ he replied, rooted to the spot.
‘Cool.’ She stared. ‘Goodbye then.’ She made to close the door and it roused him enough to move out of the way.
‘Tomorrow, then.’ He’d barely finished talking before he found himself face to face with the front of her door.
He let out an unsteady breath as his emotions levelled out, although a strange ache in the back of his throat made him swallow hard. He hadn’t wanted to leave her and it was a strange reality for him.
He shook his head as he made for his car, aware that he was behaving irrationally and wasn’t entirely sure his impulsiveness was a good idea. All of his instincts told him to run, but, he reasoned, it would be an ideal opportunity to ask her about the airline once they were away from the day-to-day routine of work. Yes, taking her with him was a good plan, of that he was almost sure – if only that niggle in the back of his mind would ease off.
***
Finbar rushed over to Sapphire’s flat at her request and was now sitting in the same spot that Marco had recently vacated. He was at his prime in the role of problem solver and he clutched a mug of tea with suppressed glee, pursing his lips, his frown deepening as he pondered over her predicament.
Sapphire watched him anxiously. ‘That’s what he said, Fin, that he wanted me to help him with a hotel he’s going to buy.’
‘Yeah, right, and he can’t think of anyone else to take with him to the bottom end of nowhere. Have you opened a celebrity magazine recently? I think you’ll find there are plenty of women hanging off his arm who would be only too pleased to go with him.’
This was a shock to Sapphire. ‘He sees other women?’
Finbar was quick on the uptake. ‘Other women?’
‘No, I don’t mean it like that.’ She bit her lip to stop herself from asking more questions surprised at how much this news upset her.
Finbar scrutinised her expression, his eagle eyes glinting at what he was taking in.
She rearranged her face into a mask of polite interest. ‘So, why me, do you think?’
He sipped his tea and shook the hair out of his eyes, enjoying the moment. ‘There are three possible scenarios here: one is that he likes you and values your opinion; two, he just wants to get you into bed; and, three, he wants to pump you for information on the airline and its workers.’
Sapphire smiled. ‘Which one would you run with?’
‘Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I don’t think it’s the second one.’ He held a hand up as she tried to talk over the top of him. ‘Last month he was photographed skiing down the mountain at Klosters with an Amazonian blonde whose daddy owns a chain of hotels and restaurants; it was in all the magazines. And, let’s face it, the closest you get to skiing is eating their yoghurts.’
‘Great. Thanks for the honesty.’ Sapphire laughed bleakly. ‘So, the odds on him being desperate for my body are quite slight. Is that what you’re trying to say?’ She didn’t know whether to be happy or sad at Finbar’s declaration, but she was certainly regretting her decision.
A dreamy expression crossed Finbar’s face. ‘I can picture it now: you and the delicious Marco, miles away from anywhere, on a rough and craggy island, with just the puffins and sheep for company.’ He shivered in delight.
Sapphire almost spurted out her tea. ‘That’s supposed to sell it to me, is it, puffins and sheep? I don’t know what he’s thinking, to be honest. He gives out such mixed messages when he’s near me.’
‘Just be careful, you know?’
‘I know, don’t worry.’ The revelation that he dated women on a regular basis strengthened her resolve to keep her distance. She didn’t have him down as a player, but then again, she only saw the side of him that he wanted her to see. She certainly couldn’t imagine that he would want to take her to bed when rich beauties were apparently queueing up for their turn.
In fact, Marco had probably been dreaming of one of those said beauties when he’d pulled her down on the sofa with him; it was obviously a mistake he regretted – he couldn’t even bring himself to mention it. She shook her head. ‘This is ridiculous,’ she said to Finbar in dismay. ‘He still thinks I’m not much better than a hooker – and a drunken one at that.’
‘Yes, sweetie, you’re right, and we all know that no man would ever try to have sex with a prostitute, don’t we?’ He chinked mugs with her. ‘This could be interesting. Keep me up to speed, won’t you? It all sounds most Mills and Boonish and I have to confess to feeling rather jealous.’
‘Of which bit – getting up close with puffins and sheep or that Marco might want to have sex with me?’
Finbar fluttered his eyelashes to let her know he wouldn’t deign to answer such a question. ‘Seriously, though, don’t lose your head to this man.’
‘I don’t intend to,’ Sapphire replied. The thought of him philandering with sexy, rich women was enough to bring her back down to earth. even though there was a tiny part of her that wondered if Marco did actually like her a bit. Why else would he want to be alone with her?
Or maybe she should add an overactive imagination to her long list of personality defects to deal with, once Marco had driven off back to Italy in his flashy car. The thought made her stomach clench and she realised she’d already answered her own question: she was undeniably in love with Marco Cavarelli.