price—which is how they always prefer to buy. Remember that when you’re negotiating with Salvatore.’
Oh, yes, she thought. I’ll remember.
Salvatore showed her to a sofa and turned to the drinks table.
‘I think I can offer you something a little better than this afternoon,’ he said.
‘But this afternoon you were only a surrogate host for the real owner,’ she reminded him gaily.
‘How true,’ he said, refusing to rise to the bait. ‘I suppose I owe you an apology.’
‘Don’t apologise. I’ve never been so entertained in my life.’
She saw a flash of real anger in his glance, suppressed so quickly that anyone less alive to his reactions might have missed it. It was dangerous to taunt him, but that only made it all the more exciting.
The wine was excellent, almost a statement of superiority in itself. She sipped it slowly for a brief moment, then set it down.
‘A little more?’ he asked.
‘No, thank you. I’m keeping my wits about me tonight.’
‘In that case, why don’t we eat?’
He led her to a table by a tall window that opened onto a balcony looking down onto the Grand Canal, and politely held out a seat for her.
At first the Venetian cuisine held her silent, being too delicious to interrupt. But at last she glanced up, smiling, to say,
‘This really is the best food of my life, just as you said.’
‘Signora—’
‘Why don’t you just call me Helena? Surely we’re already beyond the need for formalities?’
‘I agree. Helena—’
‘I expect we’re ready to get down to business now. We’ve both had time to get our thoughts in order.’
‘Ah, business. You’re right. Name the price.’
She stared.
‘Did I hear right? You dare say that to me—after everything I heard you say today?’
‘You tricked me.’
‘Just as well, or I wouldn’t have known what you were really thinking.’
‘You were enjoying yourself, weren’t you?’ he accused.
‘Well, can you blame me? You were so certain you could make me dance to your tune that you were an irresistible target.’
He made a wry face, conceding her point.
‘Perhaps I was a little incautious,’ he agreed. ‘I naturally assumed that you’d be glad to sell for the best price you could get.’
‘Why naturally? Perhaps I want to stay and enjoy my husband’s legacy.’
He made a sound of impatience. ‘Please, let’s not have that pretence.’
‘Ah, yes, of course, you’re so sure you know the truth about me.’ She began to quote, speaking in the Venetian she’d heard him use earlier that day. ‘“Some smart miss on the make who married Antonio just before he died, to get her hands on his money. She may have fooled him, but she won’t fool me.”’
‘What?’
‘“If she thinks she’s going to take over here, she’s mistaken,”’ Helena continued quoting. ‘“And if she thinks I don’t know the kind of woman she is, she’s even more mistaken.”’
She waited for him to reply but he only watched her with eyes as hard as stone.
‘I went to the factory in all innocence,’ she continued. ‘I just wanted to see it after Antonio had told me so much. It was sheer chance I happened to pass the office while you were on the phone. I’m glad I did. When somebody has a cruel and insulting opinion of you, it’s always best to know.’
Salvatore rose sharply and strode away from the table as though he couldn’t bear to be near her. Turning, he stared as though he’d just seen her for the first time, and didn’t like it.
‘You—speak—Venetian?’ he said slowly.
‘Antonio taught me. He bet me that I couldn’t learn that as well as Italian. And there’s something else you’d better get straight. Here.’
Opening her bag, she took out a paper and held it out to him. It was her marriage certificate.
‘Look at the date,’ she said. ‘If Antonio had lived a little longer we’d have celebrated our second anniversary. I did not marry him “at the last minute”.’
She had the satisfaction of seeing him redden.
‘And nor do I need his money,’ she finished. ‘I didn’t marry him for money and I don’t need a quick sale now. Please understand that.’
‘All right.’ He held up his hands. ‘We got off on the wrong foot—’
‘No, you got off on the wrong foot, jumping to conclusions about me and spreading inaccurate rumours all over Venice. I could probably sue you for slander.’
‘Have you finished?’
‘No, I’ve barely started.’
‘Suppose I don’t want to listen?’
‘Did I ask what you want?’ Helena saw his surprise and moved in for the kill. ‘It isn’t nice being bullied, is it? Not that I suppose I do it as well as you, but give me a little time to practise.’
‘And I’m sure you’ll take every opportunity,’ he observed, regarding her ironically.
‘Do you blame me?’
‘Not at all. In your position I should do exactly the same. Always kick the enemy when he’s down. It’s the most efficient way.’
‘So you don’t deny that you’re my enemy?’ she said.
‘I’d look rather foolish denying it now, wouldn’t I? Why expose myself to your derision by trying?’
Before she could reply the door opened and the maid appeared with the next course. He returned to the table and they both remained silent until they were alone again.
‘I could always apologise,’ Salvatore said carefully.
‘For everything?’
‘Everything I can remember. If I forget anything I dare say you’ll remind me.’
‘I can forgive everything except that last remark—“the kind of woman she is”. What kind of woman am I, Salvatore?’
‘Please—do we have to go into that?’
‘I think we do. Surely you’re not asking me to spare your blushes. Or is it mine you’re trying to spare? “A smart miss on the make—married him for his money.” Why don’t you just call me a prostitute and have done with it?’
She had the pleasure of seeing that her frankness made him uneasy.
‘Let’s say instead a very clever lady,’ he said.
‘No, let’s say prostitute because that’s what you meant. Have the courage of your convictions. If you’re going to call me names, do it to my face.’
‘You’re right, signora, I don’t like being bullied—’
‘No, you prefer doing the bullying.’
‘Silenzio!’ he snapped in a voice like a whip crack. ‘If you don’t mind I’d like to speak without being interrupted and without having words put into my mouth. I did not call you a prostitute—’
‘It