Veretti’s Dark Vengeance Read Free Page B

some refreshment. This way please.’
He led them into a room where a long table was laid out with cakes, wine and mineral water, and began to serve them. As he was handing a glass to Helena he looked up suddenly, alerted by someone who’d just come in and was calling him in Venetian.
‘Sorry to trouble you, Rico, but do you know where Emilio is?’
Helena recognised the name. Emilio Ganzi had been Antonio’s trusted manager for years.
‘He’s out,’ Rico said, ‘but I’m expecting him back any moment.’
‘Fine, I’ll wait.’
It was him, the man she’d seen in the office, and now Helena had no doubt that this was Salvatore. She stayed discreetly back, taking the chance to study her enemy unobserved.
He bore all the signs of a worthy opponent, she had to admit that. Antonio had said he was a man who expected never to be challenged, and it was there in the set of his head, in an air of assertiveness so subtle that the unwary might fail to see it.
But she saw it, and knew exactly what Antonio had meant. Salvatore was tall, more than six foot, with black hair and eyes of a dark brown that seemed to swallow light. Helena wondered if he worked out in a gym. Beneath his conventional clothing she sensed hard muscles, proclaiming a dominance of the body as well as the mind.
His face told two different stories; one of sensuality just below the surface, one of stern self-control. He would yield nothing except for reasons of his own. Remembering the angry frustration in his voice so recently, and comparing it to the civilised ease of his manner now, she guessed that the control was in full force.
Yet, despite being masked, the sensuality asserted itself in the slight curve of his mouth, the way his lips moved against each other. There was an instinctive harmony in his whole being, a sense of power held in reserve, ready to be unleashed at any moment.
He was moving among the group, discovering that they were English and switching easily to that language, asking politely why they had wanted to visit a glass factory, and why this one in particular. His manner was friendly, his smile apparently warm. Under other circumstances Helena would have found him charming.
When he noticed her he grew still for a brief moment, which was what men always did, noticing her beauty, only half believing it. For a moment she contemplated her next move.
Why not have some fun?
Driven by an imp of wickedness, she gave him an enticing smile.
‘Can I get you a glass of wine?’ he asked, approaching her.
‘Thank you.’
He produced it, took one himself, and walked aside with her, enquiring politely, ‘Are you enjoying yourself?’
She preserved a straight face. He had no idea that she was the enemy that he was so confident of defeating. As a model she’d often needed acting skills. She used them now, assuming a note of naïve enthusiasm.
‘Oh, yes, I really am. I’m fascinated by places like this. It’s wonderful being able to see how things work.’
She gave him the full value of her eyes, which were large and deep blue, and had been known to make strong men weep. He rewarded her with a wry half-smile, clearly saying that he liked her looks, he wasn’t fooled by her methods, but he didn’t mind passing the time this way, as long as she didn’t overdo it.
Cheek! she thought. He was appraising her like a potential investment, to see if it was worth his time and trouble.
Helena was as free from conceit as an accredited beauty could well be, but this was insulting. After the remarks she’d overheard it was practically a declaration of war.
But she had also declared war, although he didn’t know it. Now it was time to discover the lie of the land.
‘It’s just a pity that the tours of this place are so short,’ she sighed. ‘No time to see all I wanted to.’
‘Why don’t I show you a little more?’ he asked easily.
‘That would be delightful.’
Envious looks followed her, the woman who’d captured the most attractive man in the room