Page 87 of Sapphire Storm

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Just bring your A-game. Come on. I knowyou’ve got it in you. This interview iskey. For all of us.”

This whole nightmare would be easier, he thought, if she’dbe nastier to him. But in the days since they’d boarded the plane, she’d oozedgentle condescension, ignoring the angry looks he’d sometimes given her duringmoments of weakness. Again and again she’d described the new marriage plot asthe best thing for everyone involved. Especially Roman, who she claimed wouldbecome an overnight celebrity the minute the20/20interview aired.And during all her long, pep rally-style speeches about a wedding that involvedno love or authentic feeling, he’d kept his mouth shut. Because he was surethat if he stepped out of line, Ethan would be marched into some big scaryoffice at Sapphire Cove and forced to answer for the contents of a file hismother had kept secret for years.

And, of course, Diana hadn’t mentioned that threat once.She’d let Hank do her dirty work in that regard.

“I’m sorry,” he said now, “I’m just really tired.”

“More coffee then,” Diana said, gesturing for Melanie to hopto. “Would you like more coffee?”

“I’d like to talk to Ethan.”

Dammit.He’d been holding the words in for days now.No wonder they’d slipped out. Still, he should have kept his mouth shut. But hewasn’t lying about how tired he was. They’d been rehearsing for hours, butmaybe it was still jet lag. He’d never been out of the country before, so hecouldn’t be sure. Stress alone had kept him up the first two nights after theirarrival. By night three, he’d collapsed and managed a good eight hours ofsleep. Now he was on something close to a regular schedule.

If anything about this situation could be calledregular.

The anxiety of captivity was wearing him down, but hisprison was stunning.

Allegedly they were in Provence, but he’d have to take theirword for it. They’d landed after dark before a hired car had sped them throughmiles of twinkling, rolling hills. Since then, he hadn’t been allowed to leavethe property. The villa was as spare and modern as the Castle by the Sea wasfussy and elegant. The walls were all plain, rugged sandstone, and severe metalsculptures—some of them vaguely religious—hung from concealed hooks. The blockyfurniture was upholstered in creams and taupe. Off to his left, a wall ofFrench doors stood open to the sundrenched, manicured garden outside.

Diana rubbed the bridge of her nose between her thumb andforefinger. “I believe you and Hank went over this. If the interview sticks,we’ll see what we can set up with you and your friend.”

“He’s not just my friend, Diana.”

If he ever speaks to me again after the way I left himin San Diego, he thought.

“Well, he’s a terrible choice for anything else, darling. Solet’s not add a stressful conversation onto an already stressful process. Whatdo you say? Can we get back to work?”

Suitcase wheels clattered on the flagstones outside. WhenRoman saw Rachel, his professional composure threatened to shatter. Fightingtears, he shot to his feet, closing the distance between them before he threwhis arms around her. Instantly, her mouth was at his ear. “I’ve got a messagefrom Ethan,” she whispered. Then she pulled away as if she hadn’t spoken andturned to her mother.

“All right, now we can really get things underway.” Dianastood and gave her daughter a weak half hug. When they parted, she added, “Ihope you rested on the plane.”

When Rachel released the handle of her suitcase, thepublicist fetched it with the speed of a valet. “Some.” Rachel removed hersunglasses. “It looks like Roman could use a break.”

“What he could use is more rehearsal,” Diana grumbled,refilling her coffee cup from a silver carafe. “You’ve got your script?”

“Printed it out before I left.” Rachel swung her shoulderbag in front of her, pulling the pages in question from the side pouch. “I’lltake him outside and we can run lines.”

Diana studied her daughter skeptically, then Roman in turn.“Five minutes,” she said, “then we’re back in here and back to work. The ABCcrew arrives in twenty-four hours.”

Rachel took him by the arm. The next thing he knew, theywere moving through the frenzied lattices of shadow offered by the regiment ofancient olive trees outside. Their backs were to the villa. Ahead of them, a dark-bottomedpool shimmered, surrounded by square planters exploding with lavender. “He gaveme this.” Across her chest, she passed him her copy of the script. “I slippedit in there between pages four and five. You’ve got a minute or two to read it.Once you make up your mind, give me back the whole thing so I can chuck it.”

Make up his mind?What did that mean? A scrapingsound nearby made him jump. It had come from the direction of the pool. There,one of the security team, a towering hulk of a man with a cue ball head and amenacing scar on one cheek, spotted them and slowed.

“But Romy,” she whispered, looking in the direction of theguard, “don’t cry and don’t go back in there and confront her about any ofthis.”

Hands shaking, he stopped and opened the script.

“What’s that?” Diana barked. She was standing just outsideone of the French doors behind them.

“The script, Mom. What do you think?”

Diana eyed them warily before heading back inside.

It was Ethan’s penmanship, the same sturdy cursive withwhich he’d written the note that had accompanied Roman’s pet hawk. Then thewords seemed to wrap around him, and the gentle buzz of insects, the swimmingpool’s steady gurgle, and the distant call of a bird all seemed far away suddenly.

My Dearest Roman,

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