Veretti’s Dark Vengeance (18 page)

But the door was mysteriously locked. She rattled it, but it was immovable. She was Salvatore’s prisoner.
In a rage she ran to the other end of the cabin and hurled herself against the window.
‘Salvatore! Let me out, do you hear?’
He ignored her.
She was being kidnapped and there was nothing she could do about it.
At last the island came into view. There was the cove where they had parked before, and he was heading for it again, reaching the little landing stage and tying up the boat, securing it with a chain.
The message was plain. Even if she managed to escape him she would never be able to use the boat to escape.
He unlocked the door at the rear and held it open, indicating for her to walk out.
‘You must be mad to think you can get away with this,’ she raged breathlessly.
‘I don’t see anyone who’s going to stop me,’ he replied in a casual tone that was even more infuriating than anger would have been. He sounded assured, even indifferent to her reactions and it made her want to kill him.
‘What do you think you’re going to gain?’ she shouted.
‘I’ll stop you going to England. That’ll do for a start. Are you going to get out of your own accord, or am I going to force you out?’
‘Don’t you dare touch me!’
‘Don’t be silly, of course I’ll dare, and you know it.’
She did know it. There was no yielding in his face, no hint of the softer, more sensitive man she’d once thought she was discovering. There was only harshness, determination and a ruthless indifference to her feelings. He wouldn’t balk at laying forceful hands on her.
While she was trying to calm her thoughts the answer came to her. She would pretend to give in, walk to the house with him, and as soon as she was alone she would make a call for help on her cell-phone.
‘All right,’ she said. ‘Stand back and let me get out.’
‘Apart from your handbag, just take one bag of clothes,’ he said.
It would have been a pleasure to tell him what he could do with his orders, but she must fool him into thinking her docile, so she put the handbag under her arm and reached for a bag.
‘Give it to me,’ he said, taking it from her.
To her relief he seemed to accept her acquiescence without suspicion. Obviously he thought she was ready to yield easily. He would discover his mistake, she thought.
As before they walked up the sand and through the trees to the point where the whole of the tiny island lay before them. A few minutes brought them to the house.
‘Come on, it’s starting to rain,’ he said, taking her arm.
They made it inside just as the heavens opened.
‘You’ll sleep in here,’ he said, leading her into the main bedroom. ‘I’ll make some coffee and later we’ll talk.’
‘Whatever you say,’ she agreed in what she hoped was an indifferent voice.
‘Just one thing first,’ he said. ‘This.’
Before she knew what he meant to do he’d seized her handbag and whisked it away from her, opening it and taking out her cell-phone.
‘No!’ she cried, trying to grab it back, helplessly fighting with him, knowing it was useless.
Of course he hadn’t been fooled for a moment. He’d waited until she was safely here before removing the phone, knowing there was nothing she could do about it.
‘Give me that,’ she demanded.
‘And have you call the shore? I don’t think so. I brought you here for a reason and you’re going to stay until I say otherwise.’
‘You’ve got a damned nerve, acting like a gaoler,’ she raged. ‘Get out of here now!’
‘For the moment, I will. Don’t even think of escaping.’
‘Of course you can’t let me get to England. How would you seize the factory then?’
‘To hell with the factory,’ he snapped. ‘This is about you, about us. I’m not letting you go until we’ve sorted a lot of things out.’
‘Don’t give me that. I won’t fall for it. This is just your way of fighting dirty. You knew that once I was back in England I could earn enough money to fend you off, so you took me prisoner, hoping I’ll run out of cash and you can make me sell to you. Forget it. No matter how long you keep me here I’ll get away in the end.’
He came close and spoke softly.
‘Helena, you have no idea what you’re up against. I’m not playing. This island is mine: my kingdom. My word is law. Nobody contradicts me.’
‘You think I won’t?’ she challenged.
‘On the contrary, I think you’re foolish enough to try, but once you’ve discovered that there’s nobody to help you, you’re not foolish enough to try a second time. Go ahead, fight me. See where it gets you. Then come to your senses.’
‘By coming to my senses you mean doing what you say.’
‘Exactly. I’m glad you see it. It may save a lot of time.’
She barely heard the last words through a sudden crack of thunder. Now the rain was coming down hard. Salvatore looked up, frowning, and she seized her chance, shoving him aside strongly enough for him to fall on the bed, and making a run for it.
She was out in a moment, heading for the front door. Luck was with her. He hadn’t locked it yet and she could wrench it open, fleeing out into the rain.
If she could get far enough away she could hide from him and when the weather calmed she could even swim for it. She was a strong swimmer and might stay afloat until a passing boat picked her up, but for the moment she could only run and run, propelled by anger more than fear. She wouldn’t let him win-she-would-not-
The rain was pelting down, soaking her, turning the ground to mud, slowing her down. She could hear him just behind her and tried to run faster, but she was at the limit of her strength. She wasn’t going to make it-but she must-she must-
It was too late. He had her, pulling her to the ground, holding her in a fierce grip. Now she could feel how fearsomely strong he was. There had never been any chance to escape him. She writhed uselessly but he held her without trouble until she stopped struggling and lay there gasping. Then he rose to his feet and began to walk back to the house, his arm fixed around her waist, forcing her to go with him. She tried to squirm free but she might as well not have bothered for all the notice he took.
Now they were at the house, he was locking the outer door and marching her into the bedroom, still holding her in a grip of steel. He didn’t speak and there was something chilling about his silence as he dropped her down onto the bed and began to work on her buttons.
‘No,’ she gasped. ‘You can’t do this.’
‘Yes, I can. From now on we do it my way.’
He wrenched open her jacket, tossing it aside, and with horror she realised that he meant to undress her forcibly. She lashed out but she could make no impact on him. One by one he removed her garments-blouse, trousers, pants, bra-until she was completely naked.
She lay there, looking up at him with hate. Memories of the passion they had shared flashed through her brain and she wanted to cry out her anguish that something so much like love should end this way, with a union that he clearly intended to force on her. After that there would be nothing left for her in the world.
He stood for a moment, looking down at her nakedness while his own chest rose and fell fiercely. Then he went into the connected bathroom, returning with a large towel that he tossed over her.
‘Dry yourself,’ he snapped. ‘Do it quickly before you get pneumonia. I don’t want your death on my conscience.’
He walked out.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THERE was a blinding light somewhere, insistently penetrating the darkness, calling on her to awaken.
She opened her eyes to find the sun streaming into her room, and Salvatore beside her.
‘I brought you some tea,’ he said briefly, setting it down and departing at once.
The tea was good and when she’d drunk it she felt better. The sleep, also, had helped. She hadn’t expected to sleep at all, feeling sure that she would lie awake fretting, and at first it had seemed that she was right. Pictures and sensations flooded her brain, the sheer strength of him, holding her, stripping her, but then releasing her to spend the night alone. Then she’d seemed to sink into darkness.
Now she was awake. She could still feel his hands on her naked body, but whether the memory came from last night, or other nights when he’d held her in the fires of passion, she could not have said.
She looked down at herself, wearing a slip from the bag she’d brought with her, which contained only underclothes. Last night she’d dried herself hurriedly, put on the only clothes she could find, and huddled under the duvet. She looked around for the outer clothes he’d torn off her, but they had vanished.
He pushed the door open slowly. ‘Are you ready for more tea?’
‘I’d like my clothes back.’
‘They’re still wet; I’ve hung them up to dry.’
‘I need something that covers me better than this,’ she said firmly.
‘All right.’ He opened his buttons and removed his own shirt, handing it to her. ‘I’m afraid this is all I have here at the moment. It will cover you completely.’
It did, buttoning up to the neck and enclosing her in warmth from his body. She regretted that at once. It was too intimate, as was the sudden view of him bare-chested. But he retreated at once, returning in a moment with more tea, and breakfast.
‘Boiled eggs?’ she queried.
‘Don’t you eat them? I thought all the English did.’
‘As long as they’re soft boiled.’
‘If not I’ll do them again. And don’t look at me so suspiciously.’
‘You think I shouldn’t be suspicious after what you’ve done?’
‘No, you probably should. But it’s not for much longer. I want you to hear me out. After that I’ll return your phone, you can call for help, accuse me of kidnap and by tonight I’ll probably be in gaol. You can look forward to that, but listen first.’
‘As though anyone at Venice is going to arrest you!’ she said scornfully.
‘What about the people on the other end? Wasn’t someone meeting you at the airport? There’ll be a hue and cry by now. Cross your fingers and you’ll see me locked up yet.’
If she hadn’t been so wary she might have thought his voice held a note of resignation, almost of defeat. But she suppressed the thought before it could flower. She’d let down her guard with him once. Never again.
‘I look forward to seeing you locked up,’ she said.
He looked at her for a moment, then left without speaking.
The eggs were perfect. She ate every last crumb then got out of bed and went for a wash. Putting back the shirt made her relatively decent, she reckoned.
Going through her bag, she found her things untouched except for the missing phone. There, in its own small compartment, was the glass heart Antonio had given her, and a sudden impulse made her put it on. It would tell Salvatore where her true heart lay, and it gave her a mysterious feeling of safety, as though Antonio was watching over her, as he’d often promised to do.
‘Look him up in gaol,’ she muttered. ‘He doesn’t mean it. He’s just trying to get around me.’
But her own words didn’t convince her. Once again she had the frustrating sense of thinking she knew all about Salvatore, only to find a new side to him that left her as confused as ever.
He was waiting on the terrace as she went out and sat a careful distance from him.
‘What game are you playing?’ she wanted to know.
‘No game. You shouldn’t be surprised that I stopped you returning to England, after your graphic description of what you were going to do when you got there. You knew what you were telling me-’
‘That I could raise the money I needed to fight you-’
‘Helena, let’s be honest. Our fight has nothing to do with money or glass. We were made to belong together, but only if we could get other things out of the way first. We started as enemies but it didn’t stop me wanting you more than I’ve ever wanted any woman. No-don’t say it.’ He held up a hand to silence her. ‘Don’t say anything about that figurine,’ he continued. ‘It was designed long before I met you, and its coming out now was an unlucky accident. It’s just that…’
There he stopped, silenced by pain and confusion. Never in his life had he known how to describe his own feelings, or perhaps there simply hadn’t been any worth describing. The few times he’d managed to find words he’d been talking by rote, saying what was proper, disconnected from meaning.
But now that the meaning overwhelmed him, burning him up with emotions more intense than any he’d allowed himself to feel before, he was struck dumb.
Clown! Idiot! Say something! Anything!
Why didn’t she help him? She was the one who was clever with words.
‘It’s just that what?’ she asked.
He made a helpless gesture. ‘Nothing. You wouldn’t believe me, anyway.’
The hope that had briefly flared in her died again.
‘You’re right, I probably wouldn’t,’ she sighed. ‘Let’s call it a day.’
She rose to go but he stopped her.
‘Are you going to give up without even trying for what we might have?’ he asked harshly.
‘I’m not sure it’s worth trying for. Won’t we just be banging our heads against a brick wall? Let me go now.’
He’d taken hold of her, suddenly terrified at her ability to slip away from him in mind and heart if not in flesh. He grasped her body, knowing that her real self still eluded him but helpless to prevent it.
‘I said let me go,’ she gasped.
He did so, loosening his grip, but not quickly enough. As she pulled away there was the sound of a small crash and, looking down, they saw her glass heart in pieces on the ground.
‘Oh, no!’ Helena dropped to her knees.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said desperately. ‘It was an accident, I didn’t mean-’
She rose, clutching pieces of broken glass and backed away from him.
‘Look what you’ve done,’ she wept.
‘Helena, please-we can get another one just like it.’
He knew he’d made a fatal mistake as soon as he uttered the words, and if he hadn’t known her scorn would have told him.
‘Just like it? How dare you? Nothing will ever be like it.’
‘I know it was a gift from Antonio but-’
‘You fool! It wasn’t a gift, it was the gift, the first thing he ever gave me. I wore it when we married, and when he lay dying in my arms he touched it and smiled at me. Can you give that back to me?’
Dumbly he shook his head, feeling the ground shaking beneath his feet. He’d done a terrible thing and he didn’t know how to put it right, or if there was any way to put it right at all. Her grief tore him apart and his own helplessness nearly drove him mad.
He was used to her strength but the agony of her sudden defeat almost destroyed him. And the sound of her tears brought back ghosts that had appalled him for years.
‘Put it down,’ he said, reaching out to her hands that were still clutching the broken glass. ‘Put it down before you harm yourself.’
Somehow he managed to get it away without cutting her. She didn’t try to move, just stood there shaking with misery.