‘Iusepeople?’
Jett sighed. ‘You just don’t understand the effect you have on people like Avery.’
‘Redheads?’
‘Men.’ The kick he gave the clutch, revving Bessy awake, felt like it had got her in the stomach instead. ‘Don’t pretend you don’t know.’
‘No. Spell it out.’ She twisted so she was facing him. His shoulders were tight, both hands on the wheel. (Jett NEVER used both hands, like it was an insult to his skill as a driver or something.) ‘How many poor, helpless males have I driven to commit terrible sins under the hypnotic spell of my siren song?’
‘Ha.’ He checked his mirrors as he pulled out from the car park. ‘If the karaoke at Luca’s twenty-first birthday’s anything to go by, it’s got nothing to do with your singing, that’s for sure.’
He was indulging her. Was it because he sensed she needed to breathe before she dived back down to face the cold, murky reality of Clarkson and the lawsuit? Or because he still saw her as the bratty teenager who didn’t have the emotional intelligence to cope with such heavy matters?
‘Avery’s straight.’ Jett indicated onto the main road that would take them back to the Barbarani Estate. ‘It’s part of his evolutionary make-up to want to say yes to you and give you the key to the evidence room.’
‘Because my surname’sBarbarani? You know you’re literally just reiterating why I have my challenges.’
‘Because ...’ Jett’s eyes flicked over again, and this time they stayed on her a moment longer. ‘You know why, Nella, for fuck’s sake. Stop trying to trip me up. I’m not being sexist, I’m just telling it like it is. Cut Avery a break. He’s not deliberately sabotaging this investigation.’
‘Why are you angry at me?’
‘I’m ...’ He breathed out.
That’s not why he wanted to fuck you.
Everything had been off-balance between her and Jett since he’d come to the penthouse to drag her back here. Or, okay, since the funeral. What she’d said wasn’t exactly a paper cut she could pat better. Her words had gouged deep into layers of skin. Maybe even hit bone. This wasn’t going to heal quickly. But god, she desperately wanted their old banter back, the easy way they could be with each other. Now she was second guessing everything she said.
Now he was leaving.
‘How did you get your scar?’ she asked.
Her chest untightened as his shoulders visibly relaxed. ‘Alien abduction.’
She glanced at him. ‘Think you used that one two years ago.’
‘I didn’t. I’m keeping track – got a spreadsheet.’
She leant back into the seat; the scar question was always a call for truce. Even though it had never really been a game to her, she’d never been able to let his silence on the matter go. Did that dark, rotting part of her want to know in case it was something she could use against him to keep him on the Barbarani Estate, even if she had no intention of staying herself? An evil witch searching for a spell to bind him to her forever.
Tom called again; he’d been ringing so frequently her thigh felt dead when the phone wasn’t buzzing against it.
Jett glanced at it, the tiny bones in his jaw clenching. ‘You know what he wants.’
‘I can’t.’ She pressed her nails into her palm as they soared past the forest. Tiny pinpricks of stars were starting to puncture the sky like spilled glitter glue. They were never like that in the city.
‘Nel.’
‘I can’t.’ This time she couldn’t freeze the tears before they scorched down her cheeks. If she kept facing the trees, maybe Jett wouldn’t notice.
CRSSH.The ground rumbled. ‘What are you ...?’
Bessy’s wheels crunched over gravel as Jett steered her to a stop by an old farm gate. The only reason he would ever sacrifice Bessy to gravel was if he were having a heart attack. What was he doing?
‘Hey.’
His voice pulled the tears out faster. She wiped them quickly with the back of her hand. Her phone vibrated again.
The La Marcas. This was all them. They weren’t going to stop until they’d taken everything, until Nella and what was left of her family were either in jail, dead or stripped of everything they once had. And how dare they! It washergrandfather who was killed fifty years ago, not Antonio La Marca. If they thought Emilio Barbarani had stolen the wine recipe, wasn’t his untimely death enough of a punishment? But no matter what Jett said about Avery, there would be no evidence tying the La Marcas to Clarkson’s death. Just like there was no evidence tying their future son-in-law to the wine poisoning.
