Night Fires

by Sandra Marton

  ‘I think whoever invented opera did it just to confuse good music and bad theatre.’

  She remembered smiling when he’d said it, laughing at his teasing words, and then moments later falling breathlessly into his arms as he kissed her.

  Tears rose in her eyes. How he must hate her! She could imagine him that night in New Orleans, coming back to the carriage house and finding her gone, imagine how he’d felt when he’d seen those pictures of her in the papers the very next day. What had he thought when he’d seen her in Vitale’s arms? What had he thought when he’d read about their wedding plans?

  ‘Gabriella!’

  She looked up, blinking back the tears. Vitale was scowling at her.

  ‘Yes? What is it?’

  His eyes moved over her face and he grimaced. ‘You look cheap,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Your mascara is smudged. Go fix it’

  She nodded dumbly and rose to her feet. Ten minutes in the ladies’ room was like time off for good behaviour. Neither Vitale nor his omnipresent bodyguards could follow her there, but one of them always escorted her to the door and waited outside…

  Oh, God!

  It was James.

  James, in the corridor, walking towards her, dark and handsome in a dinner-jacket.

  There was a woman with him, a stunning redhead. His arm was draped lightly around her shoulders and he was looking down at her and laughing at something she’d just said. The woman was smiling, watching him through shining eyes, and Gabrielle felt a sudden, irrational hatred for her begin to grow within her heart.

  Still, James was all that mattered. She could no more stop herself from calling out his name than she could change the love she would always feel for him.

  ‘James.’

  It was the faintest whisper. She took a step forward. Beside her, her burly escort muttered something, but she ignored him.

  ‘James?’

  Her voice was still soft, but this time her whisper seemed to echo across the corridor, growing louder and louder, and James paused, the smile fading from his face. He looked up, and their eyes met.

  ‘Gabrielle.’

  His voice was harsh. They stared at each other in silence, while Gabrielle’s heart raced. A smile trembled on her lips. She longed to fly across the corridor and throw herself into his arms, to kiss his mouth and caress his face.

  The bodyguard mumbled something and touched her arm. Gabrielle shook free of his hand. ‘James,’ she said again, while tears rose in her eyes.

  James’s mouth twisted. Darkness grew within his pale eyes, and then he stepped away from his companion and moved towards her.

  There were voices behind her. She heard footsteps, sensed Vitale’s presence, and then his heavy arm was around her shoulders, his cologne was gagging her.

  ‘Is this man bothering you, cara miaV

  His husky voice sounded casual, but Gabrielle knew him well. There was steel beneath his tone, just as there was in the press of his hand.

  She didn’t trust herself to speak. ‘No,’ she said finally, her eyes locked with James’s, everything is fine.’

  James looked at Vitale, and a chill cut into Gabrielle’s heart. She had seen that look on his face before, the night the intruder had broken into the carriage house.

  It was a look that said he was capable of anything.

  ‘Let go of her,’ he said softly.

  Time hung in delicate balance. She felt Vitale tense, heard the shuffle of the bodyguard’s feet.

  James took a step forward. ‘I said, let her go.’

  His words were a silken warning. Vitale cleared his throat, looked around him at the plush surroundings of the opera house, and then his arm fell away from Gabrielle.

  In one easy motion, James caught hold of her and drew her to him. She heard Vitale’s muttered oath, knew she would pay a heavy penalty for this transgression, but it was impossible not to move into James’s arms.

  This one moment, captured from the web of time, was worth any risk.

  A smile trembled on her lips. ‘James,’ she said again, and his arms closed tightly around her. She felt the hard press of his body against hers, smelled the clean essence that was his alone, and then his mouth was on hers.

  But this kiss was unlike any they’d shared. James’s lips ravaged hers, his teeth bit sharply into her flesh. Her mouth opened at the pressure and his tongue probed for admittance, mimicking the act of love, making it into an act of vengeance instead.

  The radiant joy that had been within her heart fractured into a million crystalline shards. James despised her, as she’d known he must. Tears filled her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. The salty taste of them filled her mouth.

  She thought she heard James groan. His mouth seemed to gentle on hers, and her heart leaped. She moved in his arms and he caught her even closer to him. Yes, she thought fiercely, yes…

  He thrust her from him with an abruptness that made her gasp. Her eyes flew open; she stared at him as he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, and then he gave her a smile so filled with hate that it drove the breath from her lungs.

  ‘You can have her, Vitale,’ he said. ‘What the hell, I already did.’

  She fell back under the cruel lash of his words. Vitale’s arm curved around her again. Tears rolled down her cheeks as he led her through the opera house and out to his waiting limousine. He handed her in and she curled into the far corner, her hands pressed to her mouth to stifle her sobs.

  Vitale’s rage was terrifying.

  ‘That son of a bitch,’ he muttered while the car sped through the dark streets, ‘that bastard! I’ll kill him. I’ll

  cut off his ’

  The cold promise in his voice roused her. ‘No,’ she said sharply, looking at his shadowy face. ‘We made a deal, remember?’

  He stared at her. ‘He insulted me. No one does that and lives, Gabriella. No one.’

  From somewhere came the strength to hold her head high and meet his threat with her own. ‘If you touch him, I’ll leave you.’

  He laughed. ‘How? You’ll never get out the door.’

  She drew in her breath. ‘There are many ways to leave someone,’ she said softly.

  Silence fell between them, and then Vitale nodded stiffly. ‘What the hell,’ he said, ‘let him live. You’ll never see the bastard again anyway.’

  Gabrielle lay her head back and closed her eyes. ‘No,’ she whispered, ‘I never will.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ‘Your gown is so beautiful, Signorina Chiari.’ The young housemaid’s voice bubbled with excitement. ‘I’ve never seen a train so long, have you?’

  Gabrielle turned in the window-seat and stared at the girl. ‘No,’ she said after a while, ‘I suppose not.’

  ‘And the garden—have you been downstairs to see it? All the little lights they put in the trees, and the umbrella tables, and…’ She paused, then giggled softly. ‘Aren’t I silly? Of course you’ve seen it. Your window looks right out over everything.’

  Gabrielle stared out of the glass again, and then she nodded. ‘Everything,’ she murmured. ‘All the preparations for the circus.’ ‘

  ‘For the…’ The girl’s eyebrows rose. ‘Well, yes, it’s going to be a big wedding, isn’t it?’ She ran her tongue across her lips and took a step towards Gabrielle. ‘Cook says there’ll be two hundred people here tomorrow. Is that so?’

  Gabrielle leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. ‘Ask Mr Vitale.’ Her voice was dull. ‘I don’t know anything about it.’

  ‘Signorina?’ The girl hesitated. ‘Are you ill?’

  The young voice, so filled with excitement a moment ago, was taut with concern. It took effort to open her eyes and force a smile to her lips, but somehow Gabrielle managed.

  ‘No,’ she said gently, ‘I’m fine. It’s been a long day, that’s all. I need some rest.’

  The maid blushed. ‘Of course. Forgive me, signorina. You’ll need all your energy for tomorrow.’ She giggled again. �
�It’s not every day a woman gets married.’

  The door closed quietly, and Gabrielle turned toward the window again.

  How festive the garden looked.

  Lights, tables, flowers everywhere—a smile, a real one this time, moved, ghost-like, over her mouth.

  Alma would never believe the flowers. Vitale had ordered things unheard of in this part of the world. Flowers had been shipped in from Hawaii, from the South Seas, some with names that were as exotic as their colour and foliage.

  Alma. What was she doing on this warm June night? There’d been only some brief contact between them, once when Gabrielle wrote and told her she’d deeded the flower shop to her, again when Alma had written back, thanking Gabrielle for the unexpected gift. Her note had been polite, but beneath the very proper wording Gabrielle had sensed her friend’s hurt.

  ‘You could have told me the truth about yourself, Gaby,’ Alma had written at the end. ‘I thought I was your friend.’

  Gabrielle sighed and got to her feet. She had no friends, not any more. She had only Tony Vitale— and tomorrow, she would become his wife.

  A rush of terrible images tumbled into her mind. She saw herself walking down the aisle towards a smiling Vitale, saw his mouth move over hers after the ceremony, saw herself moving through the afternoon, Vitale’s arm around her waist, saw the door to his bedroom close after her and then—and then…

  A sob burst from her throat. How would she live through tomorrow and all the tomorrows that came after?

  Gabrielle stripped off her robe and got into bed. Sleep had become her benefactor.

  Sleep brought dreams.

  Dreams of those few precious days she’d shared with James in New Orleans.

  Dreams were all she would ever have of him.

  But on this night, the dreams she longed for evaded her. She thrashed in her bed, slipping from one troubled nightmare to another.

  And then, suddenly, she was wide awake, and a scream was rising in her throat.

  There was a hand over her mouth, a man’s hand. Her eyes widened as she looked up into the face leaning over her.

  It was James.

  Her pulse began to race.

  He smiled down at her in the moonlit dark. It was a smile that turned her blood to ice.

  ‘That’s right, baby,’ he whispered. ‘It’s me.’ His smile fled. ‘And if you value your life, you won’t make a sound.’

  Gabrielle stared at him, stunned. How had he got into her room? For that matter, how had he got into the house? It should have been impossible to gain access to the Vitale compound. Electronic devices controlled the gate and there were dogs, too, huge Rottweilers that were kept kenneled during the day and given the run of the place after dark.

  ‘Get up—and be quick about it,’ he snapped as he slid back the wardrobe doors that lined one wall and pulled something from the rack. “Put this on.”

  The sable coat Vitale had bought her slithered towards her across the silk sheets. She sat up and stuffed her arms into the sleeves of the coat. She hated the fur, not just because it was too warm for a June night but because she hated the thought of all the small creatures who had died for it.

  But she did as James ordered, then stuffed her feet into the high-heeled silk slippers that had been Vitale’s idea, while her mind raced. What was happening?

  ‘James. What…?’

  He grasped her elbow and hurried her across the room. ‘Just keep moving,’ he whispered, pausing at the door. Her heart pounded as he cracked it open and peered into the hall. ‘All right. Not a sound now, Gabrielle, I’m warning you.’

  The hall was dimly lit; shadows hung in the corners and over the wide oak staircase. Someone would hear them. Vitale’s men were everywhere in the house, and Big Tony himself slept only two doors away. They’d kill James if they found him here.

  She pulled free of his hand. ‘Do you know what Vitale will do when he catches us?’ she whispered.

  James’s teeth glinted in the dark. ‘If he catches us. Don’t worry, baby. You can always tell him I forced you to come with me. Now move.’

  ‘He’ll kill you,’ she hissed. ‘James, for the love of God…’

  ‘Move,’ he snarled.

  ‘James, I beg you…’

  His arm slid around her waist and he pulled her against him. The heat of his body was like a furnace. She felt her skin blaze beneath the weight of the fur.

  ‘Listen to me.’ His lips were against her ear; the warmth of his breath seemed to enter her blood. ‘If you don’t do exactly as I tell you, I’ll wake this whole damned house. I’ll tell Tony you arranged this meeting, that you slipped me a key to the gate.’

  ‘Are you insane? He knows that’s impossible. I have no…’

  ‘Yes, I know. You have no wish to leave him or this place.’ His arm tightened around her. ‘But you’ll never convince Big Tony of that. Not after what he saw that night at the opera. I can still make you want me,’ he said hoarsely, ‘and Vitale knows it.’ He looked into her eyes. ‘Shall I prove it to you?’

  His mouth dropped to hers, his kiss as hard as his words. Desire flashed through her. She sighed against his lips and suddenly, his kiss gentled.

  ‘James,’ she whispered brokenly, ‘oh God, James…’

  His breath hissed between his teeth. ‘Damn you,’ he said. ‘I ought to leave you here.’

  Tears filled her eyes as she looked into the face of the only man she would ever love.

  The man whose life she held in her hands.

  ‘Yes,’ she said quickly, ‘leave me here, James. Please. No one will ever know.’

  His mouth narrowed. ‘What a damned fool I was,’ he said.

  ‘You weren’t. You were never a fool. I—I—”

  Gabrielle clamped her lips together. She couldn’t tell him the truth…

  His arm curved around her waist and he pulled the door open. ‘OK. Here we go. Remember, not a sound.’

  He hurried her through the silent house.

  She waited for someone to stop them. Waited for alarms to go off when they went out the front door. But no one stopped them, no bells rang, no dogs raced toward them through the night.

  Her heart began to race with excitement. The gate was just ahead. Even at a distance, she could see that it was open. She was free. Free! She was…

  Who was she kidding? She could never be free. She had made a deal with Vitale and she would keep it. What was freedom compared to the knowledge that James was alive? It was the only thing that had kept her going these past months. If she stepped outside those gates, if she violated her part of the agreement…

  She came to a stop. ‘I can’t. 1 can’t leave Vitale.’

  James spun towards her and spat a curse that was like a knife-thrust to the heart.

  ‘Damn you,’ he said, and he swung her up into his arms.

  ‘Put me down. Please, James. Don’t take me away. Don’t!’

  Struggling against him was useless. She felt helpless, just as she had the last night they’d been together.

  She had been afraid then, but not as much as she was now. Then, she had feared for her own life.

  Now, she feared for his.

  There was a car waiting at the kerb. James set her down on the pavement while he opened the door, and then he pushed her into the passenger seat. Seconds later, the engine coughed and the car sped off into the night.

  Ages seemed to pass until they pulled into a garage beneath an apartment building overlooking the East River.

  James took her arm as he led her to a bank of lifts. His touch was impersonal; she knew he was only holding her to keep her from running, and she wanted to tell him not to bother, it was too late to flee, there was no way she could slip back into Vitale’s house now. Too much time had elapsed: they must know she was gone.

  Why had James stolen her away? What had happened? Vitale’s rage would be all-consuming. She knew he’d want to kill James, but there had to be a way to calm him long enough to make him realise tha
t he would gain nothing by doing it.

  He had her. He would always have her—so long as James was alive.

  ‘Inside.’

  She looked up, blinking as she realised they’d left the lift and were standing before an open door. Lights came on as she stepped inside, and the door slammed shut behind her.

  They were in James’s apartment. Gabrielle would have known that if she’d come here without him. His presence was everywhere, in the well-worn leather chairs that flanked a charcoal-grey couch, in the shelves filled with books, even in the gleaming hardwood floor that stretched to the wall of glass beyond.

  The room was like him: big, masculine, without pretense.

  James moved past her, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it on the couch.

  ‘Coffee or brandy?’ he asked.

  ‘Why did you bring me here?’

  He looked at her, then turned to a cabinet built into one long wall. ‘Brandy,’ he said, taking down a pair of balloon goblets and a decanter filled with an amber liquid. He splashed somey into the goblets, then handed one to her. ‘Drink up.’

  She raised the glass to her lips. The smell of the liquor was harsh, and she shook her head. ‘I don’t—’

  ‘Drink it.’ His voice was rough. ‘You need some colour in your cheeks.’

  Her eyes met his, and the flat coldness of them made her shudder. She took an obedient swallow.

  The brandy was strong. It exploded in her throat and she began to cough. James crossed the room to her.

  ‘Easy,’ he said, taking the glass from her hand and setting it down, ‘just take a deep breath.’ He tilled her face to his and looked at her. ‘Are you OK?’

  Gabrielle nodded. ‘Yes.’

  They stared at each other. A muscle ticked in his jaw, and she thought suddenly of the dark bruise that had once lay there. Her gaze swept up his face to his cheek. The scar from the car accident was barely visible, a thin white line angling across the tanned skin.

  James. James, my love.

  Her breath caught and she looked away. ‘Yes,’ she said again, and she managed a smile, ‘I’m fine.’

  James’s hand spread along her cheek. ‘You’re not,’ he said sharply. ‘You’ve lost weight.’ His fingers cupped her chin, lifting her face. ‘There are shadows beneath your eyes.’