Page 70 of One Secret

'I do like eggplant,' she offers, ignoring the double entendre.

'Are you vegetarian?'

'No. Meat lover all the way.'

'Then you should try the stifado too,' Rocco says, pointing a golden, twinkling fork at the dish to his right. 'Greek stew with lamb.'

'Sounds as delicious as it smells.'

Rocco is shaking his head.

'It's good here but, if you really want to taste Greece, you should go down to the public market tomorrow. They bring out all the fresh baked goods, the big vats of soup and stew... I can take you down there and show you around if you'd like?'

I'm immediately irritated.

On multiple levels.

Not only is Rocco Caruso obviously hitting on the woman I've brought to the island under the guise of my girlfriend. But he's doing it on purpose. During their discussion, Rocco's gaze is fixed, for the most part, on Darcy. But, between one overture and the next, it repeatedly flickers to my face. Watching for a reaction.

Like Hector Ramirez, Rocco is testing me. Am I who I say I am? Is Darcy who I claim her to be? Can I be trusted? Just how many buttons do I have and which can be pushed to make me dance like a marionette?

I lean back in my seat and throw a casual arm over the back of Darcy's chair. I suspect my expression is like thunder but do nothing to correct it.

'We'll be leaving first thing in the morning...' I take way more pleasure than I should in shutting Rocco down. 'So your offer, though altruistically meant I'm sure, is immaterial.'

Rocco glances at Felix with eyebrows raised. He seems surprised by this news. Sensing danger, my hackles rise and I can feel adrenaline starting to fire up my nerve endings.

Having been feeding dried peaches to Not-German Inga, Felix's attention is diverted by my comment and Rocco's summoning eyes.

'Actually, Cyrus—I can call you Cyrus, yes?'

'No.'

The room falls silent. Almost instantly. I didn't scream the word. I just spoke it. Without malice but without compromise.

And you could now cut the tension with one of those fancy-dancy butter knives on the table.

For a second, I wonder if I've pushed the stubborn contractor negotiations a little too far. My muscles tense. The balls of my feet find purchase on the carpet. I'm ready to lunge for Darcy and drag her from the room if necessary.

Rocco is frozen save for his hand, inching slowly beneath the lapel of his coat. Probably for the butt of a weapon.

Lana's eyes are suddenly crackling with energy, darting between Felix and me.

Darcy's hand reaches for my thigh under the table.

Even Inga can tell something is wrong, blinking fearfully and vapidly around the room.

Only Vincent seems calm. He chooses now to take a thin cigarillo from his pocket and light up.

Though assessing each of the other diners in turn, the majority of my attention remains fixed on Felix. One of his eyes has narrowed like he's solving advanced calculus in his head.

Deducting attitude from skill and evaluating my overall worth.

Altogether, the pause in conversation only lasts a second and then shatters the instant Felix decides to take my "no" in stride. His yelping bark of amusement is like a pin in a balloon, the pressure in the suite abruptly dropping from a blaze to a simmer.

'Very well, very well,' he agrees. 'I shall look forward to the day in our acquaintance when we're on a first-name basis. I see I am too eager as yet. Not a problem, not a problem... But, to the point at hand...' Felix gets back on target as he dishes up more braised potatoes and inspects a plate of pitas stuffed with salad leaves, spring onion, and lemon-grilled chicken. 'I believe I require you to remain here a little longer than was originally proposed, Mr. Alesi.'

'Excuse me?' My tone crackles with hostility and sends the pressure gauge inching back up. Darcy's fingers squeeze my leg beneath the table.

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