“Miss Konstantinos left a few minutes later after meeting with Miss Connelly.”
“How was she?”
Antonia frowned, puzzled.
“Did Miss Connelly seem alright?” Fear fisted its cold hand around his heart. “Unhurt?”
The stewardess’ frown grew deeper. “Miss Connelly was fine when she left the yacht…”
He dragged a lungful of air and expelled it heavily. His relief was staggering. “What time did Miss Connelly leave?” He expunged the emotion from his voice.
“She left an hour ago. The car arrived late. The driver said there was a long line for the limo service due to the wedding.”
Luca nodded brusquely, dismissing Antonia. What did Eleni want with Sabrina? He strode to the salon as if the room would give him clues.
He glanced around quickly. An image of Eleni brandishing a broken beer bottle in a bar flashed through his mind. There was no sign of broken glass, grazie a Dio. But that didn’t mean Eleni hadn’t done any damage.
He removed his coat and sat on the couch. He should really get to the reception. Raphael had already texted asking where the hell he had gone off to. Their mother was looking for him, and Adriano had hitched a ride instead with Raphael to the reception.
But he didn’t want to move. His feet felt as heavy as his heart.
He had done the right thing in letting her go. How could he be with someone he couldn’t trust? Someone who was clouding his judgment? He hadn’t let her explain her actions, her desperate actions that had led her to pursue his friend to this side of the world. Did she love Markos? He hadn’t asked her the question, fearing the answer. Fearing that their time together was only a means to get to Markos and nothing more. Fearing that he himself had driven her to pretend.
When he had read the copy of the letter Markos had sent to his suite upon his insistence, a black cloud of anger and jealousy had blinded him. Something had bothered him about it but Luca couldn’t bring himself to read it again, flinging his arm to the table for Olivia to get it and deliver it to the yacht.
No. It wasn’t pretense, the way she trembled in his arms. It wasn’t playacting, the way she had come undone, sobbing with her release. It wasn’t.
Then what was it?
His mobile pinged again. It was Raphael telling him to come to the luncheon or he would be escorting mama to five consecutive affairs in return for ditching lunch.
He was rising dispiritedly from the couch when he spotted it. A torn check on the floor. He frowned. He picked it up and pieced it together.
It was from Eleni. A check for several thousand euros paid to cash.
He rushed out of the room, startling Antonia, then dashed to the uppermost stateroom and flung the door open.
His eyes roamed over the paper bags and boxes. She hadn’t taken anything with her. But wait. The red ones were gone. So she had left with the jewelry.
He sagged against the doorframe. Hope had given wings to his feet. Now disappointment felled him like a bullet to the chest. He was a fucking fool for thinking someone like her would give up a million euros worth of jewels because of a few days in his arms.
Someone cleared her throat.
He whirled around. It was Antonia standing by the threshold of the open door.
“Miss Connelly said to give this to you personally.” She held out an eco bag that had seen better days.
He recognized the bag and willed his heart not to race. Something tremulous and fragile began unfurling inside his chest. “Are there red boxes inside?”
Antonia frowned, wondering why he didn’t take the bag himself and look inside. She wisely followed his orders. “There are several red boxes…”
“Can you tell me if there’s anything in them?”
Once more Antonia shot him a look that said he was acting strangely, but since he was paying her salary she’d keep her mouth shut.
But she didn’t keep her mouth shut for long. She gasped. “Oh mio Dio!”
She must have opened the necklace and earrings set first. It was the most impressive piece. Not that the brooch and bracelet were anything to laugh at, either. She gasped again as she began inspecting the other boxes.
He kissed Antonia on the forehead, giddy with hope.
“Tell the driver we’re leaving now.”
The villa was a one-hour drive from the marina. It was Markos’ exclusive property and was situated over a bluff overlooking the Ionian sea. No gates blocked the perimeter. Only an outpost for security marked the entrance.
“I’m Luca Argenti, a friend of Mr. Konstantinos. I’m here to see Miss Sabrina Connelly.”
The guard frowned.
He repeated his purpose in halting Liguerian. He had picked up quite a few words of the native dialect as a boy.
The guard shook his head. “There is no one here, sir,” he answered back in the local dialect.