Christmas at Claridge's Read online

  ‘Tranquillizers?’ Chiara frowned, not quite understanding.

  ‘To cope with the stress of Clem burning water.’

  Everyone laughed, even Clem, and even Rafa. ‘Ha, bloody ha.’ She grinned, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. ‘I’ll have you know I’ve done a lot of growing up since I’ve been out here. I make my own bed every morning, I brush my hair, I even wear underwear now—’

  ‘Come again?’ Chad interjected.

  ‘Don’t ask.’ Tom sighed. ‘She was notorious.’

  ‘And now I can cook.’

  ‘One thing,’ Tom specified.

  ‘One very difficult, cool thing that happens to be your favourite meal.’ She stuck her tongue out at him, and Chiara and Chad laughed. Rafa was watching their teasing with vague amusement, though the only sign of it was in the expression in his eyes, still a closely guarded secret.

  ‘So what’s next then in your dramatic reinvention of yourself?’ Tom asked, lacing the words with irony. ‘Learning to dress yourself?’

  Clem gasped in mock outrage, spreading her arms wide and gesturing to the flawless-looking jumpsuit.

  ‘All right, I’ll give you that.’ Tom laughed. ‘You’ve got that down pat. It does look amazing.’

  Her eyes met his at the loaded words. The jumpsuit, after all, had been the proverbial straw. He winked at her. She was truly forgiven.

  ‘I’ve still got to learn to drive,’ she said happily, nestling back in the chair. ‘That’s on my “To Do” list. It is a bit pathetic not being able to drive at my age.’

  ‘You should do that while you’re here,’ Chad said, snapping a breadstick. ‘This coast road is pretty quiet, and if you’re going to learn clutch control anywhere, it’ll be on these hills at the back. Is there anyone in the port who does lessons?’ he asked Chiara and Rafa.

  Chiara shook her head. ‘No. But there is a man in Santa Margherita, only ten minutes away.’

  ‘Well, I’ll think about it. It’s not like I’ve got much free time,’ Clem said non-committally dipping some focaccia in oil. The way her life was progressing, she might be better off learning to drive a boat first.

  Chiara sat forward in her seat, her eyes bright. ‘Rafa can teach you.’

  ‘What?’ Clem almost dropped the bread in her lap, but she was too shocked to worry about hydrogenated fats on suede.

  Rafa leaned in to Chiara and spoke hurriedly – and angrily – to her in Italian, his voice a low growl. Neither Clem nor Tom could understand, but Chad could.

  ‘Don’t worry about that. The schedule’s fine, I don’t see it being a problem,’ Chad interrupted them. ‘We’re on target. Half an hour here or there isn’t going to mess things up.’

  Rafa looked back at him with studied blankness, his jaw tight, the brief, light-hearted glimmer in his eyes gone again. He slumped in his chair and looked out to sea, his unhappiness at the suggestion blatantly clear.

  Clem gave an uneasy laugh. ‘Honestly its fine,’ she mumbled. ‘I probably won’t—’

  ‘No,’ Chiara said firmly, slapping Rafa on the arm. ‘It is the very least he can do after you gave him the extra work at the house. The money was very much needed.’

  Rafa shot her a fierce look to be quiet – the two of them like an old married couple – and she lapsed into a tense silence.

  Clem looked away, embarrassed, as Tom and Chad caught each other’s eyes, both baffled by Rafa’s evident unhappiness with the plan.

  A well-cut shadow fell upon them and they all looked up to see Gabriel standing beside the table, a polite smile stretched thinly across his handsome face. ‘I am sorry I am late,’ he apologized, his gaze coming to rest on Clem’s face. ‘I hope I have not missed much?’ There was an expression in his eyes she couldn’t quite read.

  Clem felt Chiara’s, Tom’s and Rafa’s stares as his hand lightly, intimately, brushed over her hair while he took his seat beside her. She shook her head and forced a smile back, still shaken by the depths of Rafa’s animosity towards her.

  ‘No,’ she managed, picking up her menu. ‘You’re just in time. We were, uh, j–just getting ready to order. Is there anything you’d particularly recommend?’

  ‘Why don’t I streamline the process and order on everyone’s behalf?’ Gabriel smiled, more genuinely now. ‘I know the food very well here and the chef always does a few specials for me that aren’t on the menu.’

  ‘That sounds great,’ Tom said.

  ‘I’m in,’ Chad echoed, placing his menu back on the table.

  ‘I prefer to order my own choice,’ Rafa said.

  Gabriel looked up at him, pinning him with a cold stare, before turning to Chiara. ‘How about you Chiara? Are you happy for me to order for you?’

  She nodded. ‘Of course,’ she replied politely.

  ‘So that’s settled then. Majority rules, I’ll order.’

  ‘Hey! What about me?’ Clem pouted.

  ‘I already know what you like,’ Gabriel smiled, squeezing her hand and making her blush at his blatant intimacy.

  He raised his hand for the waiter, who came running, ordering a feast for the entire party in immaculate Italian, without once looking at the menu, but his eyes all the while on Rafa, who was staring back at him with ill-concealed contempt.

  Clem stared up at the vaulted ceiling, the crisp white pillow puffed like a balloon around her head. Gabriel was asleep beside her, his shoulders and back exposed above the thin white sheet. Usually, when she couldn’t sleep, she just rested her eyes on his face and body, examining the proportions of him in minute detail, as though it would unlock the sexual power he held over her, but it wasn’t working tonight. She felt jittery and agitated, squeezing the muscles rhythmically in her legs, trying to wring out the restlessness that made her want to run.

  She sighed in frustration and turned onto her side, her eyes falling to the two tight muscles bunched like fists in the small of his back. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she just sleep? She was taking Tom to the boatyard tomorrow and she needed to be on form for the site visit. It was the most prestigious element of the commission, and it was imperative Tom was impressed.

  Clem felt thankful that Chad and her brother had hit it off so well, so quickly. Chad’s support had been vital these past few months and Clem had seen how relieved Tom had been as he’d learned how fully Chad had project-managed Clem’s ideas in his absence. At least she hadn’t been completely free-wheeling out here.

  Things couldn’t have gone better between Tom and Gabriel either, so it couldn’t be that on her mind. The two men – both on their best behaviour for her – had quickly dominated the table, their conversation swinging from the global recession to Six Nations rugby to the American elections to Brioni cashmere, and pretty much everything in between – except Clem; both men appeared to have a tacit agreement that she was off limits that night. They had talked easily and fluidly, navigating a careful, wary path between their fledgling business alliance on the one hand and vague new personal relationship on the other. Clem hadn’t realized how nervous she felt about it, until Tom had winked reassuringly at her when Gabriel left the table briefly to take a call, and she’d felt her shoulders drop and spread an inch.

  Rafa had continued to be his usual, taciturn self, of course; she didn’t expect anything more from him. He despised her and made it plain to everyone. She knew Chad had long since picked up on it, and she’d seen him frowning and looking embarrassed on her behalf on more than one occasion during the evening, but there was no question of firing Rafa, not if Gabriel wanted the frescoes to be re-established, which he did.

  Her jiggering body fell still as she thought back to the exchanges between Rafa and Gabriel. She had been so focused on smoothing the path between her brother and her lover that she’d left no space on her emotional hard-drive for anything else. But there had been a hardness in Gabriel’s tone whenever Tom had included his old pen pal in the conversation, his smile fading like a spent breeze every time their eyes met. Had he
picked up on Rafa’s animosity towards her? Had he overheard Rafa’s resentful words to Chiara just as he reached the table, the painter’s contempt all too clear in his words and face?

  She wanted to say yes. She wanted to believe Gabriel had been defending her, putting the smaller, poorer man back in his place. But she knew it wasn’t true. Or at least, not the whole truth.

  She watched as his ribs spread lightly with every breath, the power in his incredible body dormant now, but she had glimpsed a fraction of his strength earlier. Their love-making had been rougher than usual, almost angry, and he had been on her the moment the door closed, ripping off the jumpsuit with such urgency that it had torn slightly at the seam on the shoulder.

  It hadn’t just been lust. It had been Gabriel staking his claim. For some reason, she realized, he saw Rafa not as a labourer or an artisan or an equal. But as a rival.

  And once he started down that path . . .

  Had he . . .? Clem held her breath at the sudden thought and slid her hand underneath the pillow, exhaling with relief as it closed around the silken pouch. It was still there. She had taken extra precautions now that she was sharing her bed on a regular basis and had hidden it inside the lining of the pillowcase, but she couldn’t assume that was enough; not now that Gabriel was on alert. She lifted her head and slipped the silk packet out of its hiding place. Rolling over smoothly, she reached down over the side of the bed and pushed it under the mattress. She looked back at her sleeping lover, but he didn’t stir so she lay back, her heart hammering wildly and driving sleep even further away for another night. That didn’t matter, though. All that mattered – all that ever mattered – was that the secret was still hers.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The next morning, Clem felt as hellishly tired as she’d feared, but it was only really proved to her when Tom bounded into the folly like an over-excited puppy.

  ‘Why are you so happy?’ she mumbled, drawing her knees up to her chest as she sipped coffee from the armchair. She was waiting for the call from Stefano to say the boat was ready.

  ‘Hey! The sun is shining, I’m in Portofino and I’m just about to ride on a Riva in order to go check out a yacht.’ He grinned, arms outstretched. ‘Exactly what isn’t there to be happy about?’

  Clem arched an eyebrow. She thought people with broken hearts weren’t moved by superficialities like those. ‘OK, Mr Happy. Well, just to warn you, I’m being a grouch. I slept like shit.’

  ‘You look it . . . damn, this place is cute.’

  She watched impassively as he scampered up the stairs, taking in the small, round bedroom dominated by the massive bed. ‘Feel free to look around,’ she called out sarcastically.

  He came back down the steps, every movement fizzing with vim.

  ‘So, you and Gabriel hit it off then,’ she remarked lightly, but inwardly dying for his feedback as he started trying to work the TV remote to find a sports channel.

  Tom stopped exploring and straightened up thoughtfully. ‘Yeah, last night was surprisingly fun. But I don’t know whether I like him for being so likable, or whether I hate him for it.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Well, this place, that face. He’s kind of got it all going on, hasn’t he? I really want to hate him just on principle.’

  ‘He’s lovely,’ Clem said, peering over the top of her cup.

  He threw a quizzical look at her. ‘Lovely? Huh. Interesting word.’ He put his hands on his hips. ‘You could have chosen – oh, I don’t know – perfect?’

  Clem blinked slowly. ‘Nobody’s perfect, bro. Not even me.’

  Tom laughed again, and she couldn’t help but crack a grin at his ready smiles. It felt good to bask in his energy after all this time, like lying in a sun spot after a winter of blizzards.

  Her phone buzzed and she saw the text from Stefano, saying that he was down by the jetty waiting for them. She sighed and drained her coffee, then stood up, tugging down her white shorts and blue striped shirt, which was already untucked. She picked up her iPad. ‘Chad’s meeting us there; he’s going to go on to Rome after. You ready?’ she asked, knowing his answer even before it left his lips.

  ‘Sis.’ He grinned, loping over to her and throwing a heavy gibbon-like arm around her shoulder. ‘I was born ready.’

  Boys, Clem thought to herself, as she watched Tom throw his head back, his arms spread across the back bench, his hand subconsciously stroking the leather seats that he’d inspected through slitted eyes as they’d climbed aboard. His reaction was exactly the same as Luca’s, and no doubt Gabriel’s, too, when he’d first bought the boat – the thrust and guttural roar of the engines, the sleek purity of its lines, it just spoke to something in men, much like Clem’s legs and Stella’s bosom.

  Mario, the owner of the shipbuilders, was there, ready to meet them as they moored on the far side of the bay an hour later, and they climbed onto the powder-blue bikes that everyone used for moving around the giant docks.

  Clem let Tom go ahead and stay abreast of Mario whilst he gave her brother the tour he’d given her over two months earlier. She remembered how awed she’d been then by the storeys-high scaffolding, the convex glass roofs vaulted like cathedrals above them.

  The yacht was no longer red and rusty-looking, but powdered white with the first basecoats. It was quiet in there today, no banging, drilling or shouting accompanied them, no teams of men in boiler suits and knee pads – all other work had to cease while the hull was being sprayed. Just one air bubble or grain of sawdust and the paint wouldn’t take. Chad arrived and Mario went with him into one of the offices to deal with some paperwork, as Clem took Tom over to a separate scaffolded tower, which allowed them to see the profile of the boat from what would be the waterline, rather than having to look up past the belly of the hull. It wasn’t stupidly big, not a billionaire’s boat with a helipad and a swimming pool, but 30 metres long, with two tiered upper decks and a sharp, elegant prow. It was stunning and as understated as twelve million pounds possibly can be.

  ‘D’you like it?’ she asked.

  ‘I love it so much I’m going to keel over.’ Tom grinned.

  Clem groaned. ‘Oh my God, that’s awful, Tom! No wonder Clover left y—’

  The words were out before she could stop them and she looked at him in dismay. ‘That was an idiotic thing to say. I don’t know why I said it.’

  Tom laughed lightly. ‘It’s fine, Clem. I’m not going to break, you know.’

  She looked at him sceptically. ‘No? This time yesterday you looked three days from death.’

  ‘Well, you were right; the sun does make you feel better. I feel different out here already.’ He shrugged, his face in profile to her as he scanned the boat’s proportions. They were quiet for a while. ‘Do you know how much a boat like this costs?’

  Clem shrugged. ‘Ballpark,’ she mumbled.

  ‘He’s a big fish, sis.’ Tom looked across at her, and she knew what he was really saying: she was out of her league with this one.

  ‘And I’m a big girl,’ she replied. ‘So you can stop looking at me like that.’

  ‘This level of wealth complicates everything.’

  ‘I don’t see why. I’m not interested in his money. Or anyone else’s.’

  ‘Just because you don’t care about the money doesn’t mean it won’t affect your relationship. This boat is only a toy to Gabriel and it’s worth more than we’ll probably ever earn. You’re in a whole other world with him and I just don’t want to see you get hurt, that’s all.’

  She gave a small, dismissive laugh. ‘As if! No man’s ever broken this heart, and they’re not going to either.’

  She saw Tom’s expression. ‘What? Don’t look so sad. You should be pleased for me.’

  ‘Why?’ he shrugged. ‘It means you’ve never been in love. That’s sad.’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘Yeah, because I’m so gutted to have missed out on years of crying into my pillow. No wonder rom-coms are wasted on me.’

&nbs
p; ‘But you do cry into your pillow,’ he said quietly. ‘I’ve heard you.’

  ‘I d-d-do not! I’m drunk, you numpty!’ she scoffed. You know how emotional I get after tequila.’

  Tom nodded, but didn’t say anything further to contradict her, and she saw that same familiar pity shining from his eyes whenever she was reflected in them.

  A sharp whistle made them both jump and they looked down. Chad and Mario were on the ground, looking up at them.

  ‘Want to climb aboard?’ Chad called up.

  Tom gave a big thumbs-up sign and Clem, relieved by the distraction, began leading him back down the steps.

  ‘Just wait till you see the plans for the amethyst bar and the marble bath,’ Clem said quickly over her shoulder to him. ‘They rock.’

  ‘Quite literally.’ Tom quipped. ‘Are you sure she’ll float with that much stone inside her?’

  ‘Ha ha.’

  Their feet pattered down the metal steps in unison and she heard him clear his throat. ‘By the way, I got talking to Chiara about the hotel last night. I said I’d pop in and have a look at the proposals you’d made. You don’t mind, do you?’

  ‘Are you kidding? You’d be doing me a favour. I bit off way more than I could chew with Chiara,’ Clem said, turning on the steps to look back up at him. ‘But I’m warning you, you’re going to be banging your head against a brick wall. She’s stubborn as hell. She won’t commit to anything.’

  ‘Well, having lived with you all my life, I reckon I can probably handle her.’

  ‘Trust me, you can’t,’ she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder and continuing their descent. She couldn’t hear him smiling at her back, but she could feel it. ‘Tom, you can’t!’

  She slammed the car door behind her and looked back in through the window. ‘Right, so Luigi’ll drop you back at Chiara’s and he’ll come back for me, yeah?’