They went back into the house, and found Mary Ann struggling to keep some sort of conversation going.
Manolo came into the room. "Dinner is served, Mrs. Calder," he said.
Everyone rose and marched into the dining room.
"Now let's see," Arrington said, surveying the beautifully laid table. "We'll have Mr. and Mrs. Bacchetti to my left, and Mr. and Mrs. Bar-rington, here, to my right."
Stone winced as if lashed. Everybody sat down, and a cold soup was served.
"This is a beautiful house," Dino said.
"Thank you, Dino; Vance let me redo the place after we were married, so I can take full credit. Stone, where are you and Dolce going to make your home?"
Stone dropped his spoon into his soup bowl, splashing gazpacho over his jacket.
Dolce took up the slack. "Papa offered to give us his Manhattan place, but Stone has insisted that we live in his house," she said. "I'm so looking forward to redecorating the place. It's a little… seedy right now."
Stone could not suppress a groan. Dolce knew that Arrington had had a big hand in decorating his house. The soup was taken away, before Arrington could throw it at Dolce.
"And how is your father?" Arrington asked solicitously. "And all those business associates of his? The ones with the broken noses?"
Stone stood up. "Excuse me." He left the table.
Arrington caught up with him at the front door. "Running away, are you? You complete shit! You married that bitch?"
"I have a lot to explain to you," Stone said. "Can we have lunch tomorrow?"
"Lunch? I don't ever want to see you again! Not as long as I live!"
"Arrington, you're going to have to listen to me about this."
"The hell I do!" she hissed, then pushed him out the front door and slammed it behind him.
Stone was already in his car when he saw Dolce in his rearview mirror, coming out of the house. The gates opened for him, and he floored the accelerator.
He made a couple of quick turns, headed nowhere, just trying to be sure that Dolce wasn't following him. He made the freeway, then got off at Santa Monica Boulevard, so he could keep an eye on several blocks behind him. Sweat was pouring off him, and he was breathing rapidly. When he had to stop for a traffic light he took the opportunity to put the car's top down, and the breeze began to cool him. His breathing slowed, and he began to feel nearly normal, except that he was numb between the ears. He did his
best to drive both Dolce and Arrington out of his head, tried to think of nothing. For a while he was in a nearly semiconscious state, driving by instinct, uncaring of his direction.
When his head cleared he found himself at a traffic light in
Malibu. He dug his notebook out of his pocket, looked up the number and dialed the hands-free phone.
"Hello?" she said, her voice low and inviting.
"It's Stone; I'm in Malibu. Are you alone?"
"I sure am," she replied.
"Not for long." He headed for the Colony.
Chapter 45
Charlene met him at the door, wearing nothing but a short silk robe. Neither of them said a word. He kissed her, then, without stopping, lifted her off her feet.
She climbed him like a tree and locked her legs around him. "Straight ahead," she said, removing her lips from his just long enough to speak. "Hang a right at the end of the hall."
He followed her directions and came into a large bedroom only steps from the sand. The sliding doors to the beach were open, and a breeze billowed the sheer curtains. She unlocked her legs and dropped to the floor, tearing at his clothes. Together they got him undressed and her robe disappeared. They dived at the bed.