The Sicilian's Unexpected Duty(51)

                How many of them were here?

                The hot pins poking her skin were now strong enough to make her brain burn.

                ‘Ladies, look after her for me while I get her a drink.’ With that, Pepe disappeared into the crowd.

                Francesca, the non-wandering-hand woman, an adorably plump blonde who had squeezed herself into a black dress that gave her a cleavage like two pillows, was the first to speak. ‘I don’t think we have met before, non?’

                Cara shook her head.

                ‘How did you come to meet Pepe?’

                At least it was a question she could answer. Even so, it took two attempts for the words to form. ‘His brother is married to my best friend.’

                Francesca’s eyes gleamed. ‘Ah, Luca. Now that is one fine specimen of man,’ she said, turning back to Lena.

                The two Frenchwomen spoke in their native language before Lena addressed Cara. ‘Je regrette un...non English.’

                ‘Lena doesn’t speak English,’ Francesca said apologetically. ‘I am translating.’

                Even if Cara had actually paid attention in her senior school French classes, there was no way she would have been able to keep up with the speed with which the two women spoke.

                As Cara stood there like a spare wheel while the two women conversed loudly before her, that same dreadful outsider feeling doused her all over again.

                ‘I need to find Pepe,’ she whispered, backing away, horribly aware her cheeks were flaming.

                Slipping back into the crowd, she spotted him easily enough, standing by the bar with what looked like a glass of orange juice in his hand. It came as no surprise to find him talking to a woman. This woman’s hand was playing with the lapel of his tuxedo jacket.

                If her brain could burn much more it would boil. Everything inside her felt taut, as if it had been wound into a coil. Perspiration broke out on her skin.

                ‘Where are you going?’ Pepe caught hold of her wrist as she passed him.

                She hadn’t even realised her legs were moving.

                ‘To the bathroom.’ She said the first thing that came into her mind.

                ‘Again?’

                ‘Yes.’

                His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied her. ‘You’re very pale. Are you all right?’

                ‘Yes.’ She tugged her wrist out of his hold. ‘Excuse me. I’ll be back in a minute.’

                The lapel-fingering woman said something to him in French, looking at Cara as she spoke. No doubt she too was asking if Cara was his latest lover. The latest in a long, long line.

                Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, Cara slipped out of the door. This time the adjoining room was full of partygoers all talking and laughing loudly. A small queue had formed by the bathroom.

                She didn’t want the bathroom. She wanted to escape. She wanted to get as far away from Pepe and all the women who had shared his bed as she could.

                As she stood there, feeling helpless, not knowing what to do, the opportunity for escape presented itself.