‘Which brings me to what I wanted to discuss with you.’ He talked rapidly, barely taking a breath between sentences, to make sure Nico didn’t interrupt him. ‘If your mother would agree, I’d like to use Ca’ d’Angeli for some of the location work. I’d probably need it for a month or so. You and she could take a holiday, leave a servant to keep an eye on the place, make sure we didn’t do any damage. You’ve no need to worry, I assure you. We wouldn’t make any structural alterations, and probably wouldn’t change the decor at all – it fits the book perfectly. Antique furniture is fine for any period and, if you remember, the house in the book is very much like Ca’ d’Angeli. Even the garden is perfect. But do you think your mother will agree, or not?’
‘I wasn’t expecting this!’ Nico said. ‘I own the house so it is my decision, but I’d have to consult my mother, for courtesy’s sake, and she may not like the idea.’
‘It would pay very well – I don’t suppose sculptors make a fortune, do they? And the house must cost a lot in upkeep. Think of what you could do with the money!’
Nico looked sideways at Laura. ‘Would you stay with us at Ca’ d’Angeli while you’re in Venice making this film? Then, when you aren’t needed for a scene, you could pose for me.’
She heard Sebastian shift in his chair, felt tension in him, carefully didn’t risk looking in his direction. Cupping her hands round her coffee cup, she nodded. ‘Okay.’
After all, what difference was there between posing for a photographer and posing for an artist? What you were doing was basically the same: a matter of training in patience and response, giving the photographer or artist what they wanted. Certainly a photography session involved lots of movement, using props, changing mood – smiling, being serious, looking tigerish or sweet, playing up to the camera as if it was a man you loved – and when you were posing for an artist you had to keep still, not move a muscle, hold a pose for ages. She could imagine that that would be exhausting, and probably tedious, if it went on for too long. But it would be fascinating to watch Nico working: she had never known a sculptor before and she would have plenty to think about while she was modelling for him. No doubt he would give her a break every so often.
‘If I do the film, that is,’ she added. ‘This is a chan
cy business. Projects fall through all the time, or take years to get into production. This film may never get made at all, or I may not be available on the date they start shooting. But if I do get that part, I’d be happy to pose for you whenever I have any free time.’
‘You aren’t likely to have much. This part would call for you being on set most of the time,’ Sebastian said.
She smiled at Nico. ‘I’m bound to get one day off a week, at least, so don’t worry.’
‘We have a deal?’ he said, getting up. ‘Well, I’ll talk to my mother and let you know our decision, Sebastian. Now, I’m afraid I have to get back. I’m at work on something important. Thanks for the breakfast. I normally just have coffee and some fruit – a touch of luxury is always welcome. And it was a very useful meeting, for both of us.’
Laura got up to leave, too, but Sebastian stopped her. ‘Don’t go yet. I want to talk to you.’
When the door had closed on Nico and she and Sebastian were alone, she pulled free. ‘I’ve got another appointment at ten, I can’t be late.’ She hadn’t meant to say anything more to him, but suddenly her anger flared. ‘Why did you write that note to me this morning, Sebastian? Why are you threatening me?’
‘Note?’ He looked mystified. ‘What are you talking about? Which note?’
‘Oh, don’t play stupid games! You know what I mean! The note you left on my pillow.’
‘Oh, that! I didn’t write it, I found it by the door. Someone had obviously pushed it underneath—’ Sebastian stopped. ‘What did it say?’
She stared at him, trying to read his expression, not sure whether or not she could believe him. The envelope she had received soon after she arrived had been pushed under the door, and it had been from the same person.
Could Sebastian be telling the truth?
‘What did it say?’ he insisted.
‘Never mind.’
‘I do mind. If you thought I might have written it, then presumably it was anonymous. What sort of filth is someone writing to you? It must be pretty nasty or you wouldn’t have looked at me that way. I want to see it, Laura – I’ll come down to your room and get it. You should tell the police if someone’s sending you junk like that. Have you rung them?’
‘You know I can’t speak Italian and, anyway, what could they do? Both of them were printed—’
‘Both?’ he exploded. ‘There was another one?’
She could have kicked herself. ‘Oh, forget it!’
‘Are you crazy? How can I forget something like that? One threat was serious enough – but two? What did the other one say?’
‘Same sort of thing.’
‘You still haven’t told me what they say!’
‘Threats,’ she muttered. ‘Get out of Venice or else …’
‘When did you get the first one?’
‘Just after I arrived yesterday.’