The Secret Wife

Wrapped in the towelling robe put there for the purpose, Rosie strolled out of the bathroom, feeling reasonably rested and relaxed. The sensation was short-lived. The bedroom harboured a tall, dark, very masculine intruder.

Rosie tensed, green eyes flying over the Italian-styled double-breasted beige suit Constantine was wearing. It gave him the look of a stunningly sexy and dangerous gangster. For a split second, he quite took her breath away and she was transfixed. That sensation didn’t last either.

Constantine frowned at her. ‘Did I not make it clear that for the duration of your stay here you were to behave as if this was a normal marriage?’

Uncertainly, Rosie nodded.

‘Then why did you insist on dining from a tray instead of joining me downstairs for dinner? And why did you refuse my housekeeper’s offer to give you a guided tour of the villa?’

Rosie heaved a stoical sigh. ‘Anything else I’ve done wrong?’

‘You’re not a guest here. This is supposed to be your home. Act like a newly married woman.’

‘I haven’t a clue how a newly married woman acts.’

‘But you have an incredible imagination. Use it,’ Constantine suggested with sardonic bite.

It was already being used. In her mind’s eye, Constantine had mysteriously become a brooding gangster from a shadowy old black and white movie. And mysteriously sharing that same scene was... Rosie, garbed in a fabulous fringed twenties dress, the sole focus of her gangster’s seething passions. Emerging in shock from her first experience of erotic fantasy, Rosie drew in a tumultuous, steadying breath and wondered frantically what was going on inside her head.

‘What’s the matter with you? You’re unusually quiet.’ Constantine ran suspicious black eyes over her.

‘Jet lag,’ Rosie said shrilly, embarrassed to death by that sexual daydream.

‘I’ll see if I can arrange a flight for you every day,’ Constantine drawled without a flicker of a smile on his way out of the door.

While she had been in the Jacuzzi her luggage had been unpacked but Rosie was surprised to see her little brocade jewel case sitting on the dressing-table. In fact, having already had an unhappy preview of the collection of motley garments Maurice had tumbled willy-nilly into the case, she was astonished that he had been thoughtful enough to pack her jewellery into the backpack.

Opening it, she frowned and then poked through several sets of tangled costume beads in an increasingly desperate search for what she had expected to find. Her heart stopped dead and her stomach literally heaved. The Estrada ring was no longer there ... and Rosie lost no time in jumping to the most obvious conclusion. Constantine had been determined to take that ring from her. And, lo and behold, it was now gone! Obviously Constantine had stolen her father’s gift from her!

Rosie raced down the long, sweeping staircase barefoot. The light of battle in her furious gaze, she saw Constantine emerging from a room off the huge hall. ‘I want my ring back!’ she slung at him full volume.

Startled, Constantine wheeled round to face her. ‘What the hell—?’

‘The Estrada ring. It was in my jewel case. Now it’s gone.’

‘Gone?’ Constantine stressed as he curved a hand round one slight shoulder and pressed her into an elegant reception room. ‘Gone where?’

Rosie grimaced. ‘I was hoping you wouldn’t do this.’

‘If you’ve lost that ring,’ Constantine spelt out rawly, ‘I’ll strangle you!’

‘The best line of defence being attack, right?’ Rosie looked deeply cynical and her lip curled. ‘Look, I know you have the ring and that you are responsible for its disappearance—’

‘Christos...do you dare to accuse me of stealing?’ Constantine flared in outrage.

Rosie winced and backtracked a diplomatic inch or two. ‘I wouldn’t use that term. Let’s just say that you have retrieved something which you believe I have no right to retain. But I have every right. Anton gave me that ring.’

‘I am not a thief. If the emerald is missing we will call the police, but not until I am fully convinced that this is not another ploy.’

‘Ploy... what’s that supposed to mean?’ Rosie splintered.

‘It means,’ Constantine stated with hauteur, ‘that I would not at all be surprised to learn that your boyfriend has the ring. I’m already well aware that you’re a liar and a cheat—’

‘You swine!’ Rosie gasped with a shudder of disbelief.

‘And I imagine the ring is heavily insured—’

At that instant, a servant came to the door and spoke to Constantine while Rosie stood with balled fists of fury.