why don’t we start with the coffee and then we can have a really good chat about everything. By the way, did you know that impersonating someone can be prosecuted as a criminal offence?’
Bethany paled and Cristiano, who had only thought of that on the spur of the moment, shot her a smile of pure threat.
‘What else did you get up to while you were staying at the Doni apartment? Aside from shamelessly raiding her wardrobe? How light were your fingers? If I recall, the place was stuffed full of valuables.’
‘How dare you?’
‘I know. Nasty of me, isn’t it? But I’d think twice before I start reaching for the moral high ground if I were you.’ He had expected her to be taken aback by his appearance on her doorstep. No, he thought, scratch that. He had expected her to be shocked and defensive, but he hadn’t bargained on the panicky apprehension in her eyes. Then again, she was a lady of unexpected responses and definitely not one whose words and actions could be taken at face value.
Bethany felt like a mouse pinned to the ground by a predator whose aim was to smack her around for a while before ripping her to shreds. When she had walked away from him, admittedly with a finality which stemmed more from cowardice than anything else, the last thing she had expected was to be hunted down. She hadn’t taken him for a man who would lower himself to chasing after a woman who had dumped him without explanation. His pride would have seen to that. Unfortunately, she hadn’t thought ahead to what he might do if he discovered that the woman who had dumped him had also been as genuine as a three poundnote. At least as far as outward appearances went. Now she knew. He went on the attack.
‘I wasn’t trying to reach for any moral high ground.’ Bethany shifted, crablike, against the wall because he was so close to her that she could feel his warm, angry breath on her face. ‘I was just trying to say that I’m not a thief .’
‘Now, I wonder why I’m finding it hard to believe anything you have to say…’
Since there was no arguing with that and trying to plead her innocence on that front was just going to be met with scathing disbelief, she decided that it was time for the cup of coffee. She deserved his anger and she would sit through it with lowered head and genuine repentance. Then he would leave and her life could return to its hollow routine.
‘The coffee…I’ll make you a cup…if…if you want to wait in the sitting room…it’s just through there…’
‘And have you out of my sight? Not a chance. I don’t know whether you’ll do a disappearing act through the back window. You seem to be pretty good at that.’
‘I’m…sorry. I told you that.’ She stared down at the ground but there was no escaping his presence because she could see the dull burnished leather of his shoes. Even when he stepped away to fall in behind her, she was horribly, horribly aware of him and it felt as though she was holding her body in agonising tension just to stop herself from shaking like a leaf in a high wind.
‘Nice house,’ he said conversationally, which didn’t fool her for a minute into thinking that he had dropped his anger in favour of a more reasonable approach to having his questions answered. He was just enjoying the moment, toying with her. ‘Funny, you told me that you lived in London.’
‘I did.’ She had her back to him as she filled the kettle with water and fetched down one of the mugs from the mug treeby the sink. Sadly, she couldn’t take refuge in the task of making his coffee for ever and eventually she was obliged to turn around, albeit reluctantly, to find that he had taken up residence on one of the pine chairs at the kitchen table. It was a reasonably big kitchen, big enough to fit a generously proportioned table, but he still managed to reduce the space to the size of a prison cell.
She shoved the mug of coffee in front of him and sat on the chair furthest away. This