‘Do you blame me?’
‘Not at all. In your position I should do exactly the same. Always kick the enemy when he’s down. It’s the most efficient way.’
‘So you don’t deny that you’re my enemy?’ she said.
‘I’d look rather foolish denying it now, wouldn’t I? Why expose myself to your derision by trying?’
Before she could reply the door opened and the maid appeared with the next course. He returned to the table and they both remained silent until they were alone again.
‘I could always apologise,’ Salvatore said carefully.
‘For everything?’
‘Everything I can remember. If I forget anything I dare say you’ll remind me.’
‘I can forgive everything except that last remark-“the kind of woman she is”. What kind of woman am I, Salvatore?’
‘Please-do we have to go into that?’
‘I think we do. Surely you’re not asking me to spare your blushes. Or is it mine you’re trying to spare? “A smart miss on the make-married him for his money.” Why don’t you just call me a prostitute and have done with it?’
She had the pleasure of seeing that her frankness made him uneasy.
‘Let’s say instead a very clever lady,’ he said.
‘No, let’s say prostitute because that’s what you meant. Have the courage of your convictions. If you’re going to call me names, do it to my face.’
‘You’re right, signora, I don’t like being bullied-’
‘No, you prefer doing the bullying.’
‘Silenzio!’ he snapped in a voice like a whip crack. ‘If you don’t mind I’d like to speak without being interrupted and without having words put into my mouth. I did not call you a prostitute-’
‘It was what you meant.’
‘Kindly don’t tell me what I mean. I will tell you what I mean. If you were married to Antonio for two years then I must respect that, but it doesn’t change my opinion that you saw a good thing and secured it for yourself. Why else does a young and beautiful woman marry a man in his sixties?’
‘There are a dozen reasons, none of which you would understand.’
‘To be sure, anyone who doesn’t see the matter through your eyes is an ignorant buffoon-’
‘Your words-’
‘But you know the truth about yourself, although for some reason you pretend not to. If I say you’re beautiful I’m not paying you a compliment. Beauty like yours is a trap, a menace. You see it every time you look in the mirror and work to bring it to perfection so that your snares are laid and your victims are helpless.’
‘And you think Antonio was my victim?’
‘No doubt of it. He was a lover of beauty, and an even greater lover of sexual allure. You must have found him easy prey. Did you look for him the way you look now?’
‘Yes, he liked me this way. The more I flaunted myself before other men the more he enjoyed it, because it made them jealous of him.’
‘And did he also tell you to go on flaunting yourself when he was dead?’ Salvatore demanded ironically.
‘Oddly enough he did. He actually bought me this dress and ordered me to wear it because he said, “Don’t you dare hide yourself behind widow’s weeds. I want the world to see you as I knew you.” You were wondering why a widow of only a few weeks dresses in this fashion, well, now you know. I’m obeying my husband’s command.’
He was about to make a sound of disbelief when it came to him that this was exactly the kind of thing Antonio would have said. The old reprobate had a way of coming out with things no other man would have said.
‘I wonder why you obey this particular command right now,’ he mused. ‘Am I supposed to become a helpless victim?’
‘You don’t seem very helpless to me,’ she remarked.
‘That’s because I’m protected. I know women like you. I know how you think, and calculate, what you want and how you go about getting it. You don’t even try to hide it, I’ll give you that.’
‘You flatter yourself if you think I’m trying to add your scalp to my collection. Why would I want to do that?’ Helena asked incredulously.
‘Because I’m an enemy, of course. What could be more satisfying? Since you prefer honesty, let’s be honest. Subdue the enemy first, then make your demands.’
His voice was cold and dangerous. Recklessly she upped the ante.
‘And just what do you think I want from you, Salvatore? I hold all the cards, which means I make the terms. I don’t even need to “subdue” you, the way you imply.’
He drew a sharp breath. ‘You’re a very courageous woman.’
‘No, I’m not. I’m just the woman who’s got something you want and isn’t going to meekly hand it over. Why would I need courage for that?’
‘For several reasons that I can think of but you probably can’t. You’re a stranger here. You should ask around. There are many who will tell you that I always get what I want, because my methods are-irresistible.’
‘I’m shaking in my shoes-I don’t think.’ In a deliberately provocative voice she added, ‘If I don’t choose to sell there isn’t a thing you can do about it.’
‘There’s a great deal I can do about it.’
‘Oh, yes, now I remember! You were going to drive me to the wall and buy me out for peanuts. How could I possibly have forgotten that? Probably because I was in a fit of laughter.’
His face darkened as though he was containing his fury with difficulty, but she was on a high, and nothing would make her stop now.
‘And don’t count on me not knowing what Larezzo is worth,’ she went on. ‘You’ve told me what a powerful man you are in Venice, but powerful men have enemies. I’ll bet there are a dozen people willing-no, eager to tell me about the value, and give me tips on your weaknesses.’
He was on his feet, looking down into her eyes.
‘So you think you can find my weaknesses?’ he said.
She moved a little closer so that her breath brushed his face.
‘I think I’ve found one now,’ she whispered.
He took hold of her arms and she knew at once that she was right. He was trembling. How far, she wondered, did she dare push him? Just a little further?
But she was thwarted by the sound of footsteps, and broke away from him just as the door opened. It was the maid.
‘Signor Raffano is on the telephone.’
Salvatore was pale, but his voice was calm. ‘I’m just coming.’ To Helena he said, ‘Will you excuse me a moment? I must just deal with this.’
‘Of course.’
In the next room Salvatore picked up the phone. ‘Pronto!’
‘I just had to find out how you were doing,’ came Raffano’s voice. ‘Have you set the price yet?’
‘No, this is going to take time.’
‘Difficult, is she?’
‘Let’s just say she’s not what I expected.’
‘What does that mean?’
Salvatore ground his teeth. ‘It means that she wrong-footed me.’
‘Heaven help her!’
‘It might be heaven help me,’ Salvatore admitted reluctantly. ‘This is one very clever lady. I made the mistake of underestimating her.’ In a reflective voice he added, ‘Which I won’t do again.’
Left alone, Helena began to explore the room, which, at one end, became a picture gallery, and she walked slowly along the portraits. Many were of the Cellini family, as the notes beneath them proclaimed. But the last ones were Valettis, stern-faced makers of money in the nineteenth century.
More recently the pictures weren’t paintings but large photographs, one of which made her pause and regard it fondly.
There was Antonio, years before she’d met him, probably in his late thirties, before his hair had turned from black to grey and started to fall out. She’d known him as a ruin, but once he’d been this fine young cavalier. Some of his wickedly handsome looks had remained to the end, and she could still see the Antonio she’d known.