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wasn’t up to such a big job at this time.
    Surely Jack would understand?
    It was a relief to find, as she made her way back to their table, that when she looked over at him, sitting there drumming his index finger on the white linen tablecloth, her only feelings were wry ones. He really was a most impatient man. Impatient, demanding and not happy, unless things were going his way.
    Remembering this, Vivienne conceded Jack probably wouldn’t react well if she rejected his proposal. No doubt he would argue with her then offer her more money, neither of which would work. If he knew her better, he’d know she couldn’t be bullied, or bribed into anything she didn’t want to do.
    But maybe it wouldn’t come to that. Clearly, she was already over what had taken possession of her earlier. Her brain was now crystal clear and firmly in control of her body.
    ‘Coffee not here yet?’ she said politely as she pulled out her chair and sat down.
    ‘Nope. So, is it a yes or a no, Vivienne? Give it to me straight.’
    Vivienne almost smiled. Oh yes, things were right back to normal. But she still wasn’t about to be bullied into saying yes prematurely.
    ‘I think, Jack, that it would be wise for me not to commit myself till I see Francesco’s Folly in person.’
    ‘Okay, I’ll pick you up early tomorrow morning. Around seven. So don’t go taking too many of those sleeping tablets the doctor gave you.’
    Vivienne gave an exasperated sigh. ‘Marion’s a good friend but she talks too much. What else did she tell you about me?’
    ‘Not much. She did say that you owned rather than rented your apartment. But that was only because I asked her. She didn’t volunteer the information.’
    ‘I see. And why did you want to know that?’ she asked, thinking to herself that he’d probably been trying to gauge her financial situation. Knowledge was power, after all.
    ‘No good reason. It surprised me, that’s all, how starkly furnished the place was. It didn’t have your signature warmth and style.’
    ‘Oh,’ she said, taken aback that he would notice. Her chest tightened as it did whenever she thought of the reasons why her apartment was the way it was. You couldn’t explain something like that. When Marion had asked her the same thing, she’d just said she hated clutter. Of course, it went deeper than that. Much, much deeper.
    ‘I haven’t long had the apartment renovated,’ she said. ‘The decorating’s not finished yet.’
    ‘Ah. That explains it, then. I thought maybe the boyfriend had taken some things with him when he left.’
    Vivienne rather liked the disdain with which Jack said ‘the boyfriend’ rather than Daryl’s name.
    ‘Daryl didn’t own anything,’ she bit out. ‘Only his clothes.’ And she’d bought most of them. His salary as a mobile phone salesman didn’t extend to trendy designer wear. God, but she’d been a fool where that man was concerned. Quite unconsciously her right hand went to the fourth finger on her left hand, where her engagement ring had resided until a month ago.
    She’d bought that, too, Daryl having promised faithfully that he would pay her back.
    But he never had.
    Currently, it was languishing in the top drawer of her bedside table, a visual testament to her stupidity.
    Vivienne realised suddenly that Courtney Ellison must have paid for the rock she’d been proudly displaying in those photographs published in the gossip section of last Sunday’s paper. No way could Daryl have afforded a diamond that size, not unless it was a fake one. Actually, it wouldn’t surprise her if it was a fake diamond. A fake diamond to go with his fake persona.
    The coffee arrived at that point, in a silver pot, along with a jug of cream and a plate full of after-dinner mints. The waiter poured the coffee then left them to do the rest. Vivienne added cream and two cubes of sugar to hers. Jack left his black.
    ‘He didn’t leave you because of you , Vivienne,’ he said abruptly after