Cristina’s mouth pinched together in the silence that followed.
“No. Not yet,” Emma thought she heard the older woman say.
* * *
Emma’s shift seemed to drag by. Cristina slept through most of it. The silent mansion itself seemed to mock Emma, as if it knew about her stupid hopes in arriving there the past two days, had full knowledge of her naïve wish to run into Montand again. What did she imagine would happen? That he would seek her out, mad to be with her? That when she explained that she didn’t mind his using her to assuage his lust, because she needed him to do the same for her, that he’d immediately give her what she needed? It would be a lie anyway, because she did mind. Or at least at times she found the idea of him making love to her with no other impulse but lust unbearable.
Her body was less worried about it.
She was thankful when the annoyingly slow hands of the gold and glass clock on Cristina’s nightstand read ten thirty. Not too long now—
Her skin prickled when she heard a slight rustling sound out in the living room. She sat up straighter.
Someone is out there.
She hurried out of the bedroom, entering the living area in time to see Mrs. Shaw’s stiff-backed form walking away quickly.
“Mrs. Shaw?” she called, shocked by her unusual presence so late and the fact that she was leaving without speaking. In the distance, Emma heard the muted sound of steps on the stairs. The housekeeper was gone. Had she been spying? Why?
Something caught her gaze on the coffee table in front of the couch. A dark blue, flat leather jewelry box sat there. It definitely hadn’t been there before. Emma saw a white linen card lying beneath it. She hastened over to the table and picked up the card, reading the typewritten message.
Emma,
You are made of much finer stuff than me.
I’m sorry.
Her face slack with shock, she flipped open the lid on the box. Nestled in velvet was a delicate gold chain with an exquisitely filigreed and etched charm attached. She’d never seen anything like it. She fingered the object in awe. It was a butterfly; or was it a spritelike fairy creature? The necklace was strikingly lovely and unique.
She jumped when the phones in the suite rang. A tingling sensation rippled through her limbs, her fingers still touching the precious gold charm. Worried about waking Cristina, she sprung up to answer in order to halt the noise.
“Hello?” she said cautiously, her heart starting to pound in her ears in the silence that followed her greeting.
“Emma.”
It wasn’t a question. He’d known it was her, just as she’d known it was him somehow when she’d started at the sudden, sharp ring as she stared at the unique necklace.
“Yes?” she replied through a tight throat.
“It’s Montand.”
“I know,” she breathed out quietly.
Again, that silence that sent the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end.
“How are you?” he asked, and she knew by the tone of his voice he was asking about what she’d impulsively confessed to him the other night about Colin, but also his reluctant, yet powerful seduction . . . his subsequent rejection. All of it.
“I’m fine,” she assured.
“And Cristina?”
“Not well,” she whispered very softly. “She asked about you earlier.”
A short pause.
“What did she say?”
“Not much. She just asked if you were here. I think . . .”