The Yacht Party (Lara Stone)

‘From my favourite wine shop in Amsterdam. The owner’s brother owns a vineyard in Provence.’

Lara smiled, then turned to the kitchen drawer to get her corkscrew. For the first time since she had moved into Misty, Lara knew exactly where everything was, an unintentional consequence of the break-in: she’d had to put everything back piece by piece. As she opened the wine, she watched Stefan walk slowly around the boat, clearly fascinated by the way she lived.

‘An auction?’ he said absently. ‘Did you win anything?’

‘A week in Harbour Island in a posh villa. Shall we go?’

She had meant it as a joke, but once the words were out, Lara realised she longed to do just that. How many years had it been since she had gone anywhere simply for pleasure and especially with someone she just wanted to spend time with? Wasn’t that what normal couples did? The thought of walking along a pink sands shore, letting cold, clear water wash against her feet, and doing it with someone like Stefan was something she suddenly couldn’t wait for.

As she turned back around holding two glasses of wine, she saw Stefan bent over his phone, quickly tapping out a message.

‘Something urgent?’ she said.

‘I’m telling Eduardo not to bother coming,’ he said, looking up with a half-smile. ‘We don’t want him to rush, do we?’

‘No, we don’t.’

Tonight, she wanted Stefan to stay on the boat; she wanted to laugh with him, have lots of sex and sit on the deck watching the sunrise, wrapped in his arms. Most of all, Lara wanted Misty to be full of happy memories again and that would be a fine start.

Stefan took his wine and gestured up at the rain, now running across the skylight like silver veins. ‘Well, I don’t think we’re going anywhere.’

‘That’s exactly how I want it,’ said Lara, stepping towards him.

‘So where was this auction?’ he asked, his tipped glass a barrier between them.

‘Claridge’s.’

‘Fancy.’

‘I went with Olivia because I knew Victoria Sachs would be there. Michael Sachs’s wife.’

Stefan lowered the glass, his face suddenly serious.

‘I know who she is, Lara. The question is, why did you go? What did you hope to achieve?’

Lara put her wine glass down.

‘I went because I know what they did to Helen Groves and Sandrine, I just can’t prove it. And I wanted to rattle her cage, force an error, get her admit to something.’

‘And did she?’

‘No, but it was better than doing nothing.’

Stefan shook his head in frustration.

‘Poking a hornet’s nest, especially on your own, is dangerous. We talked about this, didn’t we? About taking a step back from the story until we’ve regrouped, involved more journalists. Someone trashed your house on Friday. You said it yourself, it was a warning.’

‘I need to find out what happened to Sandrine once and for all.’

‘Sandrine’s dead, Lara! Nothing is going to bring her back.’

Stefan’s voice was loud in the empty space.

Lara blinked at him.

‘I never said I thought the break-in was a warning.’

She had, but not to Stefan. Why was he being so hardline about this?