Page 7 of Hard Lessons

He frowned, a neat crease forming between his eyebrows.

She raised one eyebrow. What, didn’t he trust her? Didn’t he think she could flirt and seduce without it meaning anything?

“Behave,” he growled. With his jaw set tight, and knowing there was no time to argue, Luca quickly split away toward dimly lit seating nestled in the shadows.

Serena stepped up to the dark wooden bar, her heels clicking on the tiled floor for several steps until she hit a rug.

Two members of bar staff were working and the faint tang of cigar smoke filled the air. It seemed to be emanating from a room to her right.

Serena sat on a tall leather stool that reminded her of a chocolate button. She kept her chin tilted and her spine straight.

Act as if I’m supposed to be here.

That was what she always told herself when she was somewhere she shouldn’t be, which in her life, seemed to happen fairly often.

The chink of cutlery told her a restaurant area was situated through an archway in the wooden paneling. The scent of herbs now laced her nostrils.

“Drink, ma’am?” A barman smiled as he wiped a glass with a blue cloth. He had a wide gray handlebar moustache that was curled comically at the ends.

“Yes, please, Pinot if you have it.”

“Certainly.”

He set about pouring and Serena had a sneaky look at Luca. Dressed all in black, he almost blended into the dark seat he’d chosen. Before him was an empty glass, left behind from a previous customer. It looked as though it could be his.

“Here you are.” A glass of wine was set before her.

“Thank you.” She opened her Prada purse and pulled out a twenty-pound note Luca had given her beforehand.

He took the money and gave her nine pounds change. “Enjoy.”

Serena smiled. “I will.”

Going by the photograph of David Watson he was nice enough looking, with neat hair and a kind smile, and this kind of job—flirting, preening, getting close to someone for blackmail—she could do easily. Maybe she could have been an actress in another life.

Because whatever she made it look like, she loved Luca. He was the only man she wanted to be with, to get up close and personal with. Though she supposed, she should be thankful that God had blessed her with the looks and the body to make her irresistible to men. At least that was what Luca told her often enough—she was irresistible, and she was all his.

She took a sip of her wine, the chill lacing her tongue.

A group of men emerged from the restaurant. Pot-bellied and ruddy-cheeked, none of them were her hit.

One brushed close to her, his arm skimming her back.

She saw Luca tense.

I hope he can keep his cool.

Luca was away from his home turf and clearly on edge. It wasn’t helping that they’d barely had time to catch their breath since arriving and now were at Giovanni’s beck and call.

The men wandered to the window and took up residence in low bucket seats. A waiter was quick to deliver a decanter filled with amber liquid and a tray of crystal tumblers.

The place oozed old money, secrets seemed to be etched into the fabric of the walls, and oriental-style carpets were worn at the edges. The pictures hanging to her right were portraits of old men staring sternly at the artists.

A couple entered from outside, the door slamming shut. The woman wore a smart blue suit and held a briefcase. She looked efficient and businesslike.

Serena was pleased she was no longer the only female, it stopped her being so conspicuous, but she was beginning to wonder if David Watson was really here, and if he was, would The Rook and Tower be the right place to get incriminating pictures of him?

“Whiskey on the rocks.” A deep voice at her side.

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