Mediterranean Tycoons. Michelle Reid

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      Oh, yes. ‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘for that very thin excuse.’

      After that they finished the journey to the accompanying sizzle of his frowning impatience and her numbed silence. Lizzy stared out of the window as they skimmed over the top of the glistening blue lake. An hour later they were crossing the tarmac at Linate Airport to a private jet wearing the De Santis logo on its shiny white fuselage.

      The interior was a luxurious statement to corporate living. Luc saw her seated, said something to a hovering steward, then strode off to check with his pilot.

      Two minutes later he was back, and the engines were running. He took the chair next to Lizzy and clipped home his seat belt, instructing her to do the same thing.

      They took off into pure blue skies and she still hadn’t got a clue as to where they were going. In truth she just didn’t care. Today had been the worst day of her life and right now she felt like a traffic accident, one of the walking wounded that functioned by sheer instinct and nothing else.

      ‘I sent him away while you were changing,’ Luc rasped out suddenly, bringing her face around to stare at him.

      He was lounging in the seat beside her, the absolute epitome of casual nonchalance, but Lizzy saw the tension around his mouth.

      ‘Why?’ she breathed.

      His golden eyes flickered over her. ‘He upset you.’

      He upset her? ‘He’s my father,’ she snapped out. ‘He’s allowed to upset me!’

      ‘I am your husband,’ he countered. ‘I am allowed to remove all upset from your life.’

      Lizzy threw him a look of burning dislike. ‘You upset me. Does that mean you’re going to remove yourself from my presence?’

      ‘Not while we are flying at ten thousand feet.’ He grinned—then stopped grinning and sighed instead. ‘Stop spitting hatred at me, Elizabeth, and explain to me why your father believes he can treat you the way that he did today.’

      So she told him about her mother in a cool, flat, dignified voice, unaware that he watched every fleeting expression that passed across her face because she refused to look at him as she talked.

      ‘So you see,’ she concluded, ‘he sees his worst fears for me materialising in our wedding today.’

      The steward arrived then with coffee and sandwiches, bringing a halt to the conversation while he transferred everything from a tray to the low table in front of them. Luc waved the steward away when he went to pour out the coffee and leant forward to do it himself.

      ‘Do you look like your mother?’ he asked curiously.

      Lizzy nodded. ‘I’m like this constant reminder to him of what she did.’

      He handed her a cup of warm dark coffee. ‘And where is she now?’

      ‘She—died, two years ago.’ Her voice had turned so husky she took a sip at the coffee to cover it up—then frowned at the bitter sweet taste. ‘You’ve put sugar in this.’

      ‘You don’t take sugar?’

      ‘No,’ she said—then, curiously, ‘Do you?’

      Sitting back in his seat, he took a sip from his own cup. ‘We don’t know very much about each other, do we?’

      No, Lizzy thought bleakly, we don’t. ‘Well, do you take sugar in your coffee or don’t you?’ she demanded.

      ‘Strong, black and sweet,’ he answered, then turned his head to look at her, his golden eyes darker than usual and reflecting an expression she could not quite read.

      But she felt it make its old strike at her solar plexus and frowned as to why it had. They couldn’t be discussing a safer subject unless they switched to the weather.

      ‘It seems to me, cara,’ he then said ruefully, ‘that your family is as dysfunctional as mine, which makes us more in tune than you would like to think.’

      Opening her mouth to argue with him, she closed it again, because she realised he was probably right. ‘I still don’t like sugar in my coffee,’ she said firmly, and put her cup on the table.

      He just laughed, and rang for the steward to bring another cup.

      For some unknown reason her mood lightened. She even ate a couple of sandwiches and felt herself begin to relax.

      ‘Where are we going?’ she finally decided to ask him.

      ‘Well, that took its time,’ Luc mocked, getting up to stride down the cabin. ‘The Caribbean,’ he enlightened as he opened up what turned out to be a drinks cabinet and selected a bottle from the row. ‘I have a place there, hidden away on a paradise island with only pelicans for company—want one?’

      He turned to show her what looked like brandy. Lizzy shook her head.

      ‘Scared you will get tipsy again?’

      ‘Scared I’ll fall asleep.’

      ‘Fortunately for you—’ he came back with two glasses and sat down again ‘—falling asleep on board this plane is not a problem because we have a bed to sleep in through that door you can see at the other end of the cabin.’

      Expression as bland as he could make it, he waited for her nervous glance towards the door set into the bulkhead, then silently offered her a glass.

      It was either take it or endure another round of sarcastic comments from him, Lizzy knew that.

      ‘With a nine-hour flight ahead of us, with or without the brandy, you are going to discover a need for that bed.’

      ‘With or without you?’ It was out before she could stop it.

      His golden eyes lit up. ‘Was that an invitation?’

      ‘No, it was not!’ she denied.

      ‘Then take the brandy,’ he said. ‘You are safe with me—for now.’

      It was the for now that made her feel edgy, but it was the lazy challenge in his tone that made her take the brandy from him and defiantly toss it to the back of her throat.

      ‘Not a good idea, cara,’ he said as he watched her fall into a fit of gasps as the brandy burnt like fire all the way down to her stomach.

      He was right and it wasn’t. The brandy went straight to her head. She lasted a full long hard-fought-for hour before she succumbed to the need to lie down and close her dizzy eyes.

      Luc offered to help her down the cabin. She refused with a stiff dignity that cost her plenty to make it all the way into the small bedroom without stumbling over her own feet.

      A few minutes later, wearing only her bra and panties, she was curling up beneath a soft duvet covered in the smoothest linen, and dropping into a muzzy sleep with what felt like the world playing drumbeats on her head.

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