‘And which of these many countries have been on a war footing?’
‘Caballeros isn’t on a war footing.’
‘Not yet. In which of those countries was sanitation a problem?’
‘I’ve got water-purifying tablets in my luggage.’
He hid a smile. She thought she had all the answers but didn’t have a clue what she’d be walking into. ‘That would make all the difference but you won’t be needing them.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because you’re not staying in Caballeros. I’ve booked you into a hotel in Aguadilla.’ Aguadilla was a Spanish-Caribbean island relatively close to Caballeros but spared by the hurricane and as safe a country as there was in this dangerous world.
‘You did what?’
‘I cancelled the shack you’d been booked into in San Pedro,’ he continued as if she hadn’t spoken, referring to the Caballeron capital. ‘We’ve a Cessna in place to fly you between the islands for all your meetings.’
Her cheeks flushed with angry colour. ‘You had no right to do that. That shack was where Pieta was going to stay.’
‘And he would have hired my firm for protection. He wasn’t a fool. You’re a vulnerable woman...’
‘I am not.’
‘Look at yourself through Caballeron eyes. You’re young, rich and beautiful and, like it or not, you’re a woman...’
‘I’m not rich!’
‘Your family is rich. Caballeros is the sixth most dangerous country in the world. Things were bad enough when the people had roofs over their heads. Now they have lost everything and they are angry. You will have a price on your head the second you set foot on their soil.’
‘But I’m going to build them a hospital.’
‘And many of them will be grateful. Like all the Caribbean islands it’s full of wonderful, hospitable people but Caballeros has always had a dangerous underbelly and more military coups than any other country since it gained its independence from Spain. Guns and drugs are rife, the police and politicians are corrupt, and that was before Hurricane Igor destroyed their infrastructure and killed thousands of their population.’
It was a long time before Francesca spoke. In that time she stared at him with eyes that spat fire.
‘I was already aware of the risks,’ she said tremulously. ‘It’s why I agreed for your firm to be hired to protect me. Not babysit me. You had no right to change my arrangements. No right at all. I will pay you the full amount but I don’t want your services any more. Take your things and get off the plane. I’m terminating our contract.’
He’d been told she would react like this. Both Daniele and Matteo had warned him of her fiery nature and fierce independent streak, which her grief for Pieta had compounded. That’s why Daniele had taken the steps he had, to protect Francesca from herself.
‘I’m sorry to tell you this but you’re not in a position to fire me.’ He gave a nonchalant shrug, followed by an even more nonchalant yawn. Dios, he was tired. He hadn’t slept in two days and could do without the explosion he was certain was about to occur. ‘Your sister-in-law has made an addendum to the authority she gave you. If at any time I report that you’re not following my advice with regard to your safety, her authority is revoked and the project disbanded.’
THE SHOCK ON Francesca’s face was priceless. ‘Natasha did that? Natasha?’
‘At Daniele’s request. I understand he wanted her to cancel the authority altogether. This was their compromise.’ As he spoke, the aeroplane hurtled down the runway and lifted into the air.
Now her features twisted into outrage. ‘The dirty, underhanded...’
‘Your brother and all your family are worried about you. They think you’re too emotional and impulsive to get this done without falling into trouble. I am here to keep you out of trouble.’ He leaned forward and spoke clearly. He needed her to understand that this wasn’t a game and that he meant everything he said. ‘I have no wish to be a tyrant but if you push me or behave rashly or take any risks I believe to be unnecessary, I will bring you straight back to Pisa.’
Her lips were pulled in so tightly all that showed was a thin white line. ‘I want to see the addendum.’
‘Of course.’ He pulled it out of his inner jacket pocket. She leaned forward and snatched it from his outstretched hand.
The colour on her face darkened with each line read.
‘That’s a copy of the original,’ he said in case she was thinking of ripping it into pieces.
She glared at him with malevolence. ‘I spent five years working for my law degree. I know what a copy looks like.’
Then she took a deep inhalation before placing the document on her lap and clenching her hands into fists. ‘Do not think you can push me around, Mr Lorenzi. I might be young but I’m not a child. This project means everything to me.’
‘I appreciate that,’ he replied calmly. ‘If you act like the adult you claim to be there won’t be any problems and the project will be safe.’
Her answering glare could have curdled milk.
* * *
Francesca was so angry she refused to make any further conversation. If Felipe was perturbed by her silence he didn’t show it. He worked on his laptop for a couple of hours whilst eating a tower of sandwiches, then pressed the button on his seat that turned it into a pod bed.
Doing the same to her own seat, she tried to get some sleep too. She’d found only snatches since Pieta had died in the helicopter crash and that had been haunted sleep at best, waking with cold sweats and sobbing into her pillow. She didn’t know which was the harder to endure, the guilt or the grief. Both sat like a hovering spectre ready to extend its scaly grip and pull her into darkness.
Had it really only been a week ago that her mother had called with the news that he’d been so cruelly taken from them?
For the first time since his death, tears didn’t fill her eyes the second her head hit a pillow. She was too angry to cry.
She knew it was Daniele she should be angry with and not Felipe. Her brother was the one who’d gone behind her back and drawn up the addendum that effectively put Felipe in charge of her as if he were a teacher and she a student on a school trip. But Felipe, the hateful man, had signed it and made it clear he would enforce it.
It would be different if she were a man. He wouldn’t be throwing his authority in her face and patronising her with her lack of worldliness if she were Daniele or Matteo. Her age and gender had always defined her within her family and it infuriated her to see it spread into the rest of her life.
She appreciated she’d been a surprise arrival, being born ten years after Daniele, twelve years after Pieta and their cousin Matteo, who had moved in with them when she was still a baby. The age difference was too stark not to be a factor in how they all treated her. To her father she’d been his princess, for her mother a female doll to dress in pretty clothes and fuss over. Daniele had fussed over her too, the big brother who’d brought her sweets, teased her, tormented her, taken her and her enamoured girlfriends for drives in his succession of new cars. She’d been his baby sister then and was still his baby sister now.
Only Pieta had treated her like a person in her own right and she’d adored him for it. He’d never treated her like a pet. His approval had meant the world to her and she’d followed his footsteps into a career in law like a puppy sniffing its master’s heels.