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question is asked in such a way that he is only expecting to hear the one answer. The answer that suits him.
     
    “Yes, my darling I do. It very much suits you.” I see that I have pleased him with my response, as his thin dry lips stretch to what is a narrow upturned line of a smile. It is a feature that I very rarely get to see. When I do, it is usually has a negative motive or reasoning behind it.
     
    Wrapping one of his semi-muscular arms around my waist, he pulls me to him so that he can place a kiss upon the side of my neck, in the sensitive area, where I am aware of my pulse beating irregularly. Just below my ear, his lips remain there for a second or two longer than I desire or can handle and so squirm at the touch.
     
    “You smell exquisite Emelie. Is this the perfume I bought for you from Paris a few months back?” I hear him sniff in the aroma of the scent.
     
    “It is. I thought this evening would be the perfect opportunity to wear it. I wanted to please you my darling, in every way.” Searching his dead grey eyes, I hope that I haven't gone too far too soon for what I have planned. I am reassured and see I have nothing to worry about as yet, when he apathetically chuckles in his usual manner.
     
    “And pleased me you have. Come, we have time for a drink here before we need to make our reservation. This evening should be one of celebration, don't you think?” His rhetorical question only requires a knowing smile from me as a reply.
     
    Taking a hold of my arm, he protectively links it through his, never taking his hand from upon mine. Yet again, we morph into the ball and chain. As we ascend to the roof terrace, we put on yet another display of a happy, loving married couple and tonight I guarantee, it will be my best ever performance to date.
     
    “Good evening Dr Acerbi. Do you require a table this evening?” The head barman cannot do enough for us. He knows exactly which room we are residing in and therefore knows we can afford the best service possible. Stefano is generous when it comes to tipping people, but there always seems to be an ulterior motive behind it. It all comes down to greed once again. A person only has to be handsomely rewarded for their services the one time and then they see money signs flashing before their eyes. Afterwards they tend not to stop and why would they? Once Stefano has them firmly hooked on, like a fish to bait, they can then very often be asked to go above and beyond their regular duties.
     
    “That would be very much appreciated Christian. My wife and I shall only be staying an hour or so for drinks, so one of the sofas will be sufficient.”
     
    “Certainly Sir. Please come this way.”
     
    Christian dressed in his freshly washed, starched and perfectly ironed uniform leads us the way to the far side, where we have a magnificent three hundred and sixty degree view of the city. As we sit on the dark wicker outdoor furniture we have the pleasure of seeing the most spectacular sunset. The sky with its burnt orange and fiery red haze, glows as the sun descends behind the grey stoned, Victorian buildings.
     
    Stefano proudly sits opposite me and from behind him, the tall tower of what is St. John's College Chapel, looks over its people and greenery. With its Gothic and ornate stonework, it stands out from everything else around it.
     
    “You do look truly beautiful this evening Emelie. The evening sun does wonders for your complexion.”
     
    I am taken aback by Stefano's observation and remark, especially as he says it in a rich Italian accent, one that he very rarely uses, unless talking with family. I cannot remember the last time he even made an effort to notice me, never mind compliment me on it and so I am slightly puzzled by the sudden change in him. It is as though, a complete opposite has replaced him, I will not deny that it unnerves me a little. I was not expecting this at all. The memories of earlier today come flooding back. Could he really be