Page 33 of Meet Me at Sunset

‘I’ve known him since we were kids. His grandmother lived on the island – she was Mallorcan – and he used to stay with her whilst his parents were travelling. Too busy to have him around,’ he said, his eyes narrowed.

‘Are you close to the family? I know Andre was in that terrible accident, but you must know Camille well if you’ve been friends all these years …’

‘I know she’s not as perfect as she pretends to be,’ Paulo said, his tone bitter. The sound of other diners washed over them, the background hum of chatter and laughter, the clink of cutlery against plates, as the water lapped against the marina wall on the other side of the cobbled walkway. Paulo fixed his gaze on Isobel, his dark eyes glittering. ‘I know she has secrets. I know things about that family that no one else does, and she should be grateful that I’m keeping my mouth shut.’

‘What sort of secrets?’ Isobel asked innocently.

But Paulo wasn’t falling for her question. He laughed loudly, then shook his head. ‘You may be beautiful, Isobel, but I can’t give up my secrets so easily.’

‘Camille’s husband was killed in a car crash, wasn’t he?’ Isobel said.

Paulo nodded. ‘In Switzerland. It was after a party. We were racing too fast on the mountain road, and—’

‘We?’ Isobel interrupted.

‘Hmm?’

‘You said “we”.’ Was Paulo there too? she wondered suddenly.

‘Did I? It was a … How do you say it in English? Slip of the tongue … Lucas was in the car with his father. He was badly injured.’

‘I know. My husband was one of the team of surgeons who operated on him.’

‘Was he indeed?’ Paulo glanced across at her, his eyes shrewdly analysing her. ‘What a coincidence. The same husband who’s not here right now?’

‘That’s the one.’

‘Descuidado,’ Paulo murmured under his breath, and Isobel laughed.

‘Sí, es muy descuidado,’ she replied casually.

‘You speak Spanish?’

‘Yes, a little.’

‘How come?’

‘I trained as a fashion designer. I interned for a few different companies in Europe – in Madrid, and Milan, and Paris …’

‘Well, Isobel, you’re full of surprises,’ Paulo breathed huskily.

Isobel took a long swallow of her wine. They were surrounded by strangers, and she was feeling reckless. ‘What if I told you I had a secret about Camille, too.’

Paulo laughed dismissively. ‘Like what? That her favourite colour’s blue? That her guilty pleasure is eating chocolate ice cream?’

Isobel felt a shard of ice shoot through her spine. Men made a habit of underestimating her. ‘Oh no. Something much bigger than that.’

Paulo’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully as though trying to figure her out. ‘Well in that case, I’d say that we should get out of here. I’m heading back to Belleza; maybe we can carry on this conversation somewhere more private?’

‘Sure,’ Isobel said casually, though her heart was beating rapidly as she wondered what she was getting herself into.

The two of them sat in silence, sizing each other up, the weight of unspoken secrets between them.

‘Thank you for dinner,’ Isobel said.

‘The pleasure was all mine. I couldn’t leave you stranded in a strange city. I’m not the kind of man to leave you on your own.’

Isobel smiled at the thinly veiled dig at Stuart. She was feeling a little drunk, a little reckless.