Ruthless (33 page)

It had been a trap. A lure. And maybe, Annie had been saying all the way home from Essex, maybe it had been a diversion, too.

‘They’ve already tried to grab Layla. This could have been a set-up to get us out of the way, so that they could take another crack at her.’

‘Tony’s with her. And Bri’s on the door. And others, out in the road. They’d need a fucking army to get through that lot,’ said Max.

Annie wasn’t convinced. She was deeply shaken by how close they’d come to disaster today. Maybe Rufus and Redmond
had
an army.

‘Where is she? Layla!’ yelled Annie.

Layla didn’t answer.

The big house was silent.

No Rosa.

No Tony.

And no Layla . . .

‘Mum?’ She came out of the drawing room, frowning at Annie, who was wild-eyed with panic, at her dad, at Alberto, Sandor and the others. They all stared back at her, speechless.

‘Fuck’s sake, why didn’t you
answer
me?’ said Annie sharply, but she rushed forward and grabbed Layla in a hug, taking the sting out of the words. For once, Layla allowed the embrace.

‘I was on the phone,’ she said.

‘Who to?’

‘What is this, twenty questions?’ Layla pushed free of her mother in exasperation.

‘Don’t dick me around, Layla. Who were you talking to?’

‘A friend, that’s all.’ Annie kept staring at her. Layla threw back her head. ‘All right, I was talking to Precious, one of the girls at the club. And before that I spoke to Junior.’

Annie shot a look at Max, then back at Layla.

‘Did you tell either one of them where we were going today?’ she asked.

‘Of
course
not. I don’t blab, you should know that.’

It was true, thought Annie, she
should
have known that. Layla, unlike many women, was entirely capable of keeping her mouth shut.

Running an agitated hand through her hair, Annie said, ‘Sorry. It’s been a day and a half, that’s all. Think I’ll go up and take a shower.’

As she headed upstairs, Max came and gave Layla a hug. She didn’t push
him
away, Annie noted as she reached the landing and looked down. She paused there, unnoticed.

‘You OK?’ he asked.

‘I’m fine.’

‘OK,’ he said, and patted her head like she was five years old, and went off towards the kitchens.

The heavies dispersed. Layla turned back towards the drawing-room door.

‘Layla?’

Alberto was standing right beside her.

‘What?’ she asked, still hurt from earlier in the day when he had practically fucking well
ignored
her, after she had tried so hard to impress him.

‘Let’s talk,’ he said with a smile. ‘I’ve missed talking to you.’

Something going on there,
thought Annie, watching the pair of them from up on the landing.
Something serious.
She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Happy or sad. If that was the direction Layla wanted to go in, well, it wasn’t going to be easy for her, that much was for sure. Alberto had big trouble coming, she knew that. She wished she hadn’t felt the need to bring him in on this; she knew he had enough on his plate, that she had only made matters worse for him. Sighing, she carried on to her room.

Layla’s heart had picked up speed. She led the way into the drawing room and Alberto followed, closing the door behind him. Layla sat down on one of the big Knole sofas, and Alberto took off his coat, tossed it aside, and sat on the opposite one. He leaned back in the chair, raising his arms over his head, stretching, rubbing at the nape of his neck. Layla found herself having to suppress a moan.

He looks tired
, she thought. She was used to seeing Alberto as all-powerful, able to solve any problem, able to handle anything, however tough, however dirty. Like her dad, he sometimes came across as frightening, aloof, invulnerable. But now she saw that he was exhausted. That his muscles were aching. That he was human.

‘What happened?’ she asked, watching his face. ‘At the Essex place?’

‘It was rigged. And we got another four-leaf clover to add to the collection.’

‘Rigged?’

‘With an explosive device.’

Layla’s eyes widened with fright. And all the time she had been sitting here, unaware. She swallowed hard, tried to compose herself. But the thought of Alberto hurt was excruciating. She remembered Constantine, his father. She’d adored him. And he had died in an explosion.

‘Your dad saved my life today,’ he said.

‘Well, that’s ironic,’ she said with forced lightness, ‘given that Dad seems to think you’ve
ruined
his.’

‘Your mom,’ said Alberto, nodding.

‘You know he thinks there’s been something going on between the two of you. He’s always thought so.’

‘I’m aware of that, yes. And it’s crazy. You know, if he really wanted me out of the way, all he had to do today was keep quiet. I was about to open a door with a bomb attached to it. But I guess he couldn’t sink that low. I
also
guess he wishes he could have.’

‘He doesn’t think straight where Mum’s concerned,’ said Layla, shuddering at the image he’d just conjured up.

‘Crazy, uh?’

‘Yeah. Crazy,’ she agreed.

A silence fell, broken only by the ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece. Alberto was staring at Layla.

‘What, have I got a spot on my nose or something . . .?’ she asked, half-laughing, horribly self-conscious. She knew that if Precious could see her now she’d be pissed off. She wasn’t acting as she should – cool, alluring. Oh, she knew she looked fine. Her hair was puffed out, voluminous, framing her carefully made-up face. She still wore the white silk shirt above a tight-fitting black pencil skirt, with nude sheer tights and high heels. Precious would have approved of her appearance. But she was finding it incredibly awkward, sitting here talking to him.

‘You look . . . so different,’ he said, his eyes moving over her.

Layla could hardly breathe. ‘In what way?’ she asked, her voice sounding tight and unnatural to her own ears.

He hesitated for a moment. ‘You don’t look like my little sister any more,’ he said at last.

Layla took a gulping breath. So he wasn’t completely blind, after all. Merely distracted.

‘Alberto – I’m
not
your sister. I never have been. I never will be. My mother happened to marry your father once upon a time, that’s all.’

His eyes held hers. ‘This is going to take some getting used to.’

‘Is it?’

‘Mmm.’

‘Do you think you
could
get used to it?’

‘Let’s wait, shall we? And see.’

74

Next morning Layla was up early, doing laps in the pool. Alberto had gone out. Annie was passing Max’s room on her way down to breakfast when she caught sight of him in there, combing his hair in the mirror. It was still damp from the shower. He’d changed his shirt. Curiosity got the better of her. She approached the half-open door, and knocked. Max turned.

‘Something I can help you with?’ he said, tossing the comb down on the dressing table.

Annie walked into the room, pushed the door closed behind her.

‘Yeah. There is, actually. You can answer a question.’

‘Shoot.’

‘Why didn’t you let Alberto open that door?’

Max stared at her, said nothing.

‘Well?’ she prompted.

Max came over to where she stood. Looked hard into her eyes. She caught a fragrant whiff of his skin: clean, male, mingled with the tangy lemon scent of his cologne.

‘You know what?’ he said at last. ‘I nearly did.’

‘But you didn’t. You had the chance to get rid of him, if you hate him so much.’

‘And I didn’t,’ he said.

‘Why not?’ Annie was staring at him as if trying to see inside his mind. She couldn’t, of course. She had never been able to do that. Max was unfathomable. ‘He’s my lover, according to you. You keep taunting him and you hope – what? – that he’ll lose it, fight you? Alberto’s the most restrained person I know, but I tell you, if he
did
lose it, you might be sorry. Don’t be fooled by that cool exterior of his.’

Max’s face had grown still as a rock while she spoke. His jaw was tight. ‘But he won’t lose it, will he? Because he don’t want to upset
you.
’

‘So we have stalemate. And that doesn’t answer my question. You had the chance to finish him. You didn’t take it. Why not?’

Max shrugged and turned away, hunted around for his shoes.

‘I don’t know. Maybe because of his father.’

‘His
father
?’

Max sat on the bed, started putting his shoes on. Annie went and stood in front of him, watching.

‘Constantine and me, we were in tight together for years. We shared a lot.’ Max tied his shoelaces then looked up at her face. ‘Come to think of it, we even shared
you,
didn’t we.’

‘I thought you’d let that go.’

‘I have. He’s dead, after all. And I –’ he tied his other shoe and stood up – ‘am still here.’

Annie stepped back a pace. ‘And so’s Alberto,’ she reminded him. He wasn’t the only one who could goad people.

And he’s getting involved with Layla,
she thought. She wasn’t about to tell him that. He’d blow a fuse. But she couldn’t suppress a smile.

‘What?’ asked Max, irritated.

‘You’re such a maniac,’ she said.

‘Oh?’ He moved closer to her. Now he looked downright angry.

‘Men,’ she sighed. ‘You miss things, don’t you. So single-minded, so fucking focused – and you don’t see the bigger picture.’

‘And what is the bigger picture?’ he asked, his eyes moving from her eyes to her lips then back again.

‘Nothing. It doesn’t matter.’ She turned away, went to open the door.

‘Yeah, it does.’ He grabbed her arm and turned her towards him. Their bodies touched. His arm went around her waist and held her there. Annie bunched her fists against his chest.

‘So come on,’ he murmured from inches away. His breath brushed her lips. ‘Tell me.’

‘Alberto’s not interested in me,’ she said, gazing into his dark blue eyes. ‘He never has been. There’s someone he
is
interested in, though.’

‘Oh? Who?’

Annie shrugged and looked away. Every pulse in her body was beating hard, making her breathless.

‘
Who?
’ he repeated, easing her in even tighter.

‘I don’t know her,’ she lied. ‘But I think it could be serious.’ That much was certainly true.

Oh, Layla, I hope you know what you’re doing.

‘But you don’t know who she is.’

‘No.’

‘Yeah you do.’ He was staring into her eyes.

‘No. I don’t.’

‘You’re such a useless liar,’ he said, and kissed her.

Annie jerked her head away. ‘
Don’t
do that,’ she said.

Max’s eyes were smoky with lust. ‘Why not? I want to. And
you
want me to.’

‘Oh, you know that, do you?’

‘Yeah I know it. Like I know you’ve been bored out of your mind.’

Annie’s mouth twisted in a sour smile. ‘You know that too?’

‘Yep. Why don’t you give it up, shove off to the USA, go and stay in New York.’

‘Maybe I don’t want to.’

He shrugged. ‘Your club’s there.’

‘And my club manager, who doesn’t need me peering over his shoulder. Aren’t you going to point out that Alberto lives there . . .?’

‘It
is
a point.’

‘And that I could go there and “be” with him, as you so tastefully put it?’

‘Yeah. Why not?’

Annie wrenched herself free of his embrace. Now her eyes were full of fury. ‘You utter shit,’ she said. ‘I’ve just told you. He’s interested in someone else. Not me.
Never
me. So why don’t you shut. The. Fuck. Up.’

She pushed past him, went to the door into the adjoining master suite, opened it, stepped through it and turned the key sharply in the lock.

‘
Bastard
,’ she muttered, enraged, and went and flung herself on to the bed. She must have been
crazy
ever to get involved with him at all, let alone marry the sod twice. He was never going to let it go. He was
always
going to throw it in her face. He was a nightmare and she was out of it, and she should be
glad,
because he was—

With a crash the door that linked the master suite to the room next door suddenly flew inward, juddering. Max walked in.

‘Don’t do that,’ he said, coming over to the bed. ‘Don’t walk away.’

Annie sat up, stared at the open door, the shattered lock. ‘You’ve broken my bloody door,’ she told him.

‘
Fuck
the door,’ said Max, and striding back to the door, he wrenched it off its hinges and flung it on to the carpet.

Annie started to laugh.

‘
Now
what?’ asked Max, returning to the bed and glaring down at her.

‘You’re such a bloody head case,’ she said. She hadn’t laughed like this in . . . oh, about eight years.

‘Stop laughing,’ he said, pointing a finger at her.

She couldn’t.

‘This isn’t funny,’ he said.

‘Yeah, it is.’

‘Shut up.’

Annie couldn’t.

‘That’s it,’ he said. ‘I am going to
shut
you up.’

Annie’s eyes were streaming with mirth. She stared up at him. ‘Don’t you
dare
touch me,’ she warned him.

‘Oh, that’s it.
Now
you’ve done it,’ he said, and got on the bed and grabbed her.

Annie just laughed all the more: she couldn’t seem to do anything about it.

‘Stop it,’ he said, and kissed her.

Annie pulled her head away. ‘Did I ask you to kiss me? I don’t think so.’

‘Shh,’ he said, and kissed her, harder, deeper.

Annie stopped laughing, gave herself up to the kiss. What the hell. She could be dead now. She
ought
to be. At any moment some new threat could present itself, and this might never again be possible.

This
was just as wonderful as she remembered. Eight long dry years, and he was back, and Dolly was right, he could drive her crazy out of bed but for sure he could drive her crazy
in
bed, too.