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  For herself, she ate sparingly, and limited herself to only two glasses of wine. She wasn’t used to drinking much at all, and she had no wish to weaken what little defence she had. Instead, she concentrated on moving the food round her plate, and listened to what Alex’s parents had to say.

  It was obvious no progress had been made in discovering Virginia’s and Maria’s whereabouts, and once during the meal Sonya’s voice broke as she spoke about her granddaughter.

  ‘I pray to God Virginia is looking after her!’ she exclaimed, crossing herself in the age-old religious gesture of faith. ‘He knows she seldom showed any interest in the child when she was here.’

  She groped for her handbag, and, extracting a tissue, blew her nose rather forcefully, and her husband reached across the table to pat her hand. ‘Courage, Sonya,’ he said gently, and, meeting Alex’s eyes across his parents’ gaze, Camilla felt a shuddering impact in her heart.

  Because his wife was upset, Alex’s father pre-empted Camilla’s intention to excuse herself after supper. As soon as they left the table, Vito declared that he and Sonya were leaving. ‘It’s late,’ he said, although it was only a little after ten o’clock. ‘And your mother’s tired. Come by tomorrow, and we’ll talk again. I have some ideas, but they can wait until morning.’

  Alex inclined his head. ‘OK,’ he said, and Camilla hung back as he accompanied his parents into the entrance hall. ‘We’ll find her, Mama, and Maria. As God is my witness, I’ll never give up.’

  Camilla was hovering outside the library when he came back, rehearsing what she intended to say. Perhaps it would be wiser if she just packed her bags and went back to England, she thought uneasily. She wasn’t doing much good here, and the situation disturbed her.

  And not just the situation, she admitted honestly as Alex walked back along the corridor towards her. Virginia’s husband disturbed her, not least because he was her friend’s husband and she was attracted to him. It was crazy, she knew, particularly in the present circumstances. But the awareness she felt just wouldn’t go away, and she couldn’t stay here and let it develop.

  However, Alex had ideas of his own, and when she started to say that if he didn’t mind she’d say goodnight too, he shook his head. ‘Join me in a nightcap before you retire,’ he drawled, moving towards her so that to avoid him she was obliged to back into the library. ‘What’ll it be? White wine again? Or will you share my choice? Scotch?’

  ‘Don’t you think—?’

  The words were out before she could prevent them, and Alex’s mouth took on a mocking twist. ‘Don’t I think—what?’ he enquired, following her into the library and closing the heavy doors behind him. ‘You have an annoying tendency of starting sentences and not finishing them, Miss Richards. For instance, I still don’t know what you were going to say when you started telling us about your particular field of litigation.’

  Camilla swallowed. She had thought he had forgotten that, and it was disconcerting to find he hadn’t. It was equally disconcerting to realise that his mind had not been blunted by the amount of wine he had consumed, and she had to make a determined effort to counter his cool-eyed appraisal.

  ‘So,’ he said, walking across to the tray of drinks that resided on an inlaid cabinet, ‘talk to me.’

  ‘Wh…what about?’

  Camilla feigned ignorance, and his mouth compressed. ‘OK. Let’s start with what you’d like to drink. And don’t say nothing. I hate drinking alone.’

  Camilla sighed. ‘Do…do you have any mineral water?’

  Alex gave her a dry look. ‘Water?’

  ‘Or fruit juice. Anything will do.’

  ‘But not Scotch?’

  ‘I…don’t like whisky,’ she replied quickly. ‘I don’t like any spirits, really. Just…just…’

  ‘Wine,’ he said flatly, finishing the sentence for her. ‘All right. Here you are. Try that.’

  He held out a stemmed wine glass to her, and Camilla took it reluctantly. But she was so anxious about what it was he was giving her that she didn’t pay enough attention to the actual exchange of the glass. In consequence, her fingers brushed his, and in an effort to avoid them she almost dropped it.

  The incident brought both his hands to save it, and for a moment one of them was wrapped around hers. She felt the cool hardness of his skin against hers, the strength behind the long brown fingers that trapped hers so easily within their grasp, and her throat contracted. He was so close; much closer than he had been all evening and, against her will, she inhaled the warm heat of his body. He smelled so clean and fresh and masculine, with only the faintest hint of musk to indicate that he, too, was affected by their increased awareness of one another. She looked up at him almost instinctively, and eyes as dark as sable swept over her startled face. But they were not sympathetic eyes. They were narrowed and enigmatic, staring at her from between thick lashes, and no emotion entered their depths as he released her.

  Trying to still her leaping senses, Camilla looked down into her glass as Alex poured his own drink. She tried to concentrate on wondering what it was he had given her, but the actual content of the drink was of infinitely less importance than what was happening to her here. Dear God, she thought, she had never experienced such a feeling of sexuality; never been aware of her own body as a counterpart to any man’s before. Sex, as she defined it, was a delineation of the genes, an acknowledgement of the body’s physical needs, a necessary part of procreation. Her own experiences had not led her to believe it could be any more than that, certainly not this sudden loss of control in which her own identity was in grave danger of being obliterated.

  ‘So…’ Alex had poured himself a generous measure of Scotch and come back to her ‘…you were about to tell me what you were going to say before supper. What is it you don’t deal in, Miss Richards?’

  She swallowed. ‘Please—must we be so…so formal? As your mother said, my name’s Camilla—’

  ‘I know what your name is,’ he retorted, swallowing a mouthful of his drink, and surveying her with impatient eyes. ‘Answer my question, why don’t you?’ He paused. ‘Or can’t you?’

  Camilla wished he would go and sit down. She wished that she could sit down, but, short of taking the initiative and doing so, she was obliged to stay where she was.

  ‘I…I can’t remember what the question was!’ she exclaimed, playing for time, and his lean face darkened ominously.

  ‘Yes, you can,’ he contradicted coldly. ‘I want to know what it is you don’t deal in, and I’d advise you to stop playing games. It’s late, and I’m in no mood to be made a fool of.’

  ‘I’m not making a fool of you.’ Camilla sipped her drink almost unthinkingly, and broke into a spontaneous cough. ‘Ugh, what is this? I asked for fruit juice.’

  Alex’s mouth compressed. ‘It is fruit juice,’ he told her grimly. ‘With ice, and a touch of tequila. It won’t hurt you.’ His tone became sardonic. ‘I promise.’

  Camilla viewed the drink with definite misgivings. ‘Even so—’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake…!’

  Alex glared at her, and although she knew she should stick to her guns Camilla gave in. ‘All right,’ she said, and as if to prove she meant it she took another sip from the glass. ‘I suppose it’s very nice.’

  ‘Your approval overwhelms me,’ he said acidly. ‘Shall we continue?’

  This time Camilla didn’t make the mistake of trying to avoid the question. Instead, she hesitated only a moment before saying, ‘I…don’t deal in…lots of things. But—’ this, as he looked as if he was about to break in again ‘—I think the one you mean is—was—divorce.’

  Alex regarded her closely. ‘Virginia mentioned divorce to you?’ he queried tensely, and Camilla closed her eyes for a second before continuing.

  ‘No,’ she said, speaking fearlessly for the first time. ‘No, she didn’t—’

  ‘Then why did you—?’

  ‘Oh—it was the tone of her letter,’ she admitted unwillingly
. ‘I…I sort of got the impression that…that she wasn’t…happy.’

  ‘Happy!’ Alex stared at her. ‘You got the impression that she wasn’t happy? That’s not what you said before.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then why did you come here?’

  ‘I told you. Virginia invited me.’

  ‘Invited you? Or asked for your professional assistance?’

  ‘Invited me.’ Camilla was indignant. ‘Oh…I admit I was worried about her. But she knew there was nothing I could do here. Not…not professionally, anyway.’

  Alex studied her for several heart-stopping moments, and then, as if accepting what she had said, he turned away, emptying his glass as he did so. There was nothing unusual in the action. Indeed, in other circumstances Camilla would scarcely have paid any attention to such an ordinary procedure, but Alex’s attitude was one of weary acquiescence, and her heart overrode her common sense. Instead of putting down her drink and making good her escape while she had the chance, she stayed where she was, the need to do—or say—something to comfort him overwhelming all other considerations.

  ‘I…I’m sure there’s no need to worry,’ she burst out recklessly. ‘Virginia may have just needed to get away for a while, to be on her own—with her daughter, of course,’ she added hastily. ‘You…you probably had…had an argument or something. This…this may be her way to attract your attention—’

  ‘My attention!’ Alex turned back on her then, his dark face suffused with anger. ‘My God! Do you think that’s all this is? A lover’s quarrel? A family argument that ended in Virginia’s walking out?’ He uttered a harsh laugh, and as if growing impatient with the empty glass in his hands he threw it at the bookshelves, where it shattered into a thousand pieces. ‘God, do you think I’d be going to all this trouble if I thought Virginia were in her right mind?’

  Camilla backed up against the door. ‘Her…right…mind?’ she echoed faintly, a dozen different interpretations splintering in her head. ‘You mean…you mean…Virginia’s insane?’

  ‘Sanity?’ He glared at her. ‘Sanity’s a legal term, as you should know only too well. But no, Virginia’s not insane; not in the way you mean, anyway. But drugs do bend the mind, don’t they? Particularly a mind as receptive to corruption as Virginia’s!’

  CHAPTER SIX

  IN SPITE of waking with a nasty taste in her mouth the next morning, Camilla had slept soundly. Which was something of a miracle, she thought, considering the state she had been in when she had reached her room the night before. Indeed, she had been sure she wouldn’t sleep a wink, but the tequila must have been stronger than she’d thought. Alex’s ‘touch’ must have been fairly heavy, she suspected. But it was probably just as well, in the circumstances.

  Cleaning her teeth in the bathroom, she felt the full horror of what he had told her sweep over her once again. Virginia was an addict, addicted to so-called ‘hard’ drugs, like heroin and cocaine. She had been in and out of clinics for the past three years, but she had been taking drugs for much, much longer than that.

  Which meant she must have been using drugs before she got married, Camilla acknowledged now, straightening to view her pale complexion without enthusiasm. If what Alex said was true, Virginia had started smoking marijuana as soon as she had left school. In the circles she had moved in it was considered no more addictive than ordinary cigarettes or alcohol. And it was freely available, as Camilla knew from her own experience.

  Not that Camilla had ever felt the urge to experiment with drugs. Her experience had come from the contacts she made in the course of her work, contacts that had swiftly persuaded her that any kind of drug abuse was dangerous. She had learned that the need for the stimulant soon outweighed all else, and often homes, and families, were sacrificed to finance the habit.

  And that was what Virginia had done—was doing. Again, if Alex was telling the truth Virginia would do anything to satisfy her craving. Even to the extent of kidnapping her own daughter in an effort to force Alex to give her what she wanted, Camilla acknowledged grimly.

  But what did she want? Camilla could only guess. The letter she had received had spoken of cruelty and abuse—but who was abusing whom? And, again according to Alex, it wasn’t the first time Virginia had put her daughter’s life in jeopardy. Once before she had used the child as a blind to reach a dealer in Honolulu. And, on top of the horror of taking her own daughter into such places, she had crashed the car on the way back. Virginia hadn’t been hurt. Predictably, all she had received were a few cuts and bruises. But Maria had suffered a fractured skull, and for days she had been unconscious.

  Oh, Virginia had been contrite, Alex had told Camilla bitterly. While Maria lay in a hospital bed, she had been full of remorse, even agreeing that she couldn’t go on destroying herself and putting a child’s life in danger. So another stint at a rehabilitation centre had followed, reinforcing, he had hoped, her tenuous conviction that there was no future in continuing the habit.

  But recently the situation had begun to deteriorate once more. And, although Virginia had denied using any of the substances she had used in the past, the signs were unmistakable.

  However, even Alex had not expected Virginia to involve Maria again. After what had happened before he had believed she had learned her lesson, and, although she had shown no great affection for the child in the past, he had never dreamed she might deliberately take Maria away. When he had left for New York ten days ago he had warned his staff to be on the alert, but that was all. And when Virginia had said she wanted to go shopping in Honolulu, no one had thought anything of it. Ever since the accident Carlo or one of the security guards always chauffeured her into town, and when she and Maria had been dropped at the Ala Moana centre it was on the understanding that they would be picked up again a couple of hours later.

  It was only when Virginia and Maria hadn’t shown up at the appointed time that suspicions were aroused. And even then no one had wanted to worry Alex unnecessarily. In consequence, it had been a full twenty-four hours before they had caught up with him in New York and, by then, it was too late. Virginia had left the island under an assumed name, and the trail was already going cold.

  Now Camilla used her damp hands to push her hair back from her face, and stared unblinkingly at her reflection. Was it true? she wondered. Could Virginia have done all the things her husband accused her of? But, if she hadn’t, where was she? And what was she doing?

  Camilla sighed. She didn’t have any answers. And, although she didn’t like to condemn her friend unheard, she couldn’t help remembering how Virginia had looked the last time she’d seen her. The edginess, the lack of concentration, the brittle exuberance which Camilla had excused as nerves. Was it possible that, even then, Virginia had been on the point of breaking?

  Leaving the bathroom, Camilla padded into the bedroom, where coffee was cooling on the bedside table. Mama Lu must have brought it earlier, while she was still asleep, and decided not to wake her. Or had that been Mama Lu’s decision? Camilla pondered. Perhaps her host had regretted his outburst of the night before, and was eager to avoid another encounter. For he must know she would have questions, even if last night she had been too stunned to make any coherent response.

  Seating herself on the edge of the bed, Camilla poured herself a cup of coffee, and sipped it slowly. Her mind was in a turmoil, and she didn’t know what she was going to do. The simplest thing would be to book herself a return flight to London, and leave Virginia and Alex to seal their own fate. It was nothing to do with her, really. Now that she had some inkling of what had been going on it would be much more sensible to go home.

  And less embarrassing, she acknowledged ruefully. Even if Virginia did come back, she would be the last person her friend would want to see. Whatever reasons Virginia had had for writing had been negated by her actions. She wasn’t a prisoner here; she hadn’t been mistreated. And, if what Alex had told her was true, she shouldn’t believe a word Virginia had said.

  Ther
e was another reason why she should leave too, Camilla admitted now, putting the empty cup back on the tray. Aside from everything else, she had her own feelings to consider. It would probably be extremely unwise to stay here while Alex was going through such a difficult time. Actions could be misconstrued, and when emotions were near the surface all sorts of mistakes could be made.

  For example, the way she had reacted to him the night before, she reminded herself unwillingly. In ordinary circumstances she would never have felt that way about another woman’s husband, never let him know she was aware of him in such a shameless way. For he had been aware of it, she conceded, which was probably why he’d told her what he had. She had the feeling that baring his soul to a virtual stranger was something Alex Conti had never done before. It had just been his way of defusing a potentially embarrassing situation; of reminding her why she was here.

  And that was probably why she had been left to sleep on this morning, she thought with a sigh. Alex would obviously prefer to prolong the interval till he had to speak to her again. He might even wish he didn’t have to speak to her at all. After all, he had enough problems to contend with, without shouldering any more.

  Still not sure what she was going to do, Camilla took a shower and dressed, trying not to think about anything. Beyond her windows, another perfect morning was unfolding, and as she dried her hair, and threaded it into a chunky pigtail, she let the beauty of the view console her. If nothing else she had seen Hawaii, she thought wistfully, or at least a small part of it. It was a pity she hadn’t been able to enjoy it, but she would have some memories to take back to England with her.

  She had no problem finding her way outside this morning. The sun-splashed terrace was just as delightful as on the previous day, and although it was after nine o’clock the table was waiting, but laid for one—as she had expected.