The Silent Widow

But now it was real. He was here. He had come for her.

All at once the terror was back.

‘Leave me alone! Get away!’ Instinctively, she edged closer to the valet stand with its small group of waiting drivers. Safety in numbers.

‘Anne.’

Luis Rodriguez gazed at his beloved wife with wounded, reproachful eyes.

‘It’s me, my darling. It’s Luis. Why are you afraid?’

There was no anger in his tone. Only sorrow. Anne felt her racing heartbeat start to slow marginally.

He was immaculately dressed as usual in a Savile Row suit and silk tie, was newly shaven, and smelled of the Gucci aftershave he always wore, a scent that even now produced an involuntary response between Anne’s legs. In his left hand he carried a bouquet, much more simple than the lavish affair he’d sent to the concert hall. This was a modest, hand-tied posy of spring blooms, but it was full of Anne’s favorites: sweet Williams and irises and softly windblown peonies. He remembered

.

‘What are you doing here, Luis?’ she asked, softening but still suspicious.

‘I had some business in LA,’ he replied casually. ‘I’ll be here for a few days at least.’

Anne’s eyes narrowed. ‘You told me you could never return to the US. That you can’t leave Mexico City.’

‘I try hard not to. But this … was very important.’

She wondered whether ‘this’ meant the business or her. Despite herself, a part of her hoped it was the latter.

She studied his face in silence as if trying to work out a puzzle, while a torrent of conflicting emotions raced through her. Was he telling the truth about having business here? Or had he really come for her? And if he had, what did that mean? Should she be flattered, or afraid?

‘You know I miss you, Anne.’ His voice broke, leaden with love.

‘I miss you too,’ she said truthfully. ‘But you can’t … you should have called.’

‘I don’t have your number.’

‘You could have left a message with the orchestra. I’m not hard to find. You could have warned me, instead of ambushing me on the street like this.’

‘If I’d warned you, you might not have agreed to meet,’ Luis said simply.

‘Well, wouldn’t that have been my decision?’ Anne asked.

‘It would have been. If I’d warned you,’ he agreed, smiling. ‘This way, it’s my decision. I like that better.’

Anne couldn’t help but smile back. This was classic Luis logic. He really was incorrigible, but somehow he always managed to combine his outrageous arrogance with enough charm to make it endearing. She had never met a man like him, and for all Nikki’s warnings, she knew she never would.

‘Have lunch with me.’ He proffered the flowers, trying to press his advantage.

Anne took them and for a split second their fingertips touched. It was the first physical contact between them since the night before she bolted, and it was electric, charged with both desire and fear.

‘I can’t.’ Anne looked away. ‘You know I can’t.’

‘Why not?’ Luis’s voice hardened. ‘Because she says so?’ He nodded up at Nikki’s building. ‘Your so-called therapist?’

The cold fear crept back into Anne’s veins, as if someone had changed the drip.

How did Luis know about Nikki? Come to think of it, how did he know I’d be here at all?

Suddenly she thought back to the mysterious cars she’d been convinced were following her. The ones Nikki said were all in her head.