Ruthless - [2]

‘For fuck’s sake,’ said Dolly, too fascinated to even start in on the cakes. Her eyes narrowed. ‘Oh, wait. Not… Alberto Barolli?’

Annie nodded and heaved a sigh. ‘Yeah. He thought I was having an affair with Alberto and he had some private dick trailing me, for God’s sake. I was that mad at him, Doll. I’m his wife. If he couldn’t trust me, what was the point? So when I got back to England, I faced him down about it. And I totally lost it. I said if he couldn’t take my word as the truth, we’d better end it.’

‘Shit.’

‘And you know what that son of a bitch said to me?’ Annie’s eyes were flaring with temper. ‘He said, “Fine. Then you’ll be free to fuck whoever you damned well like.”’

Dolly winced in sympathy. ‘And what about Layla?’

Annie gulped hard. This was the most awful part. Layla was a daddy’s girl, she adored her father. She’d always run to Max rather than to Annie, which hurt. But Layla’s schooling at Westminster was at a crucial point and she couldn’t relocate to Barbados with her dad, it just wasn’t practical.

‘Layla’s staying with me,’ said Annie.

‘And how does she feel about all this?’

‘How do you think she feels?’ snapped Annie. Then she shook her head. ‘Sorry, Doll. Didn’t mean to take it out on you. It’s just been so hard. She’s devastated. Of course she is. And I’m public enemy number one as far as she’s concerned. Her dad can do no wrong.’

‘She’ll come round,’ said Dolly, reaching across and patting Annie’s hand.

‘I don’t know. All I know is I couldn’t go on that way. What did he want to do, keep me in a cage or something? I have business in New York.’

‘But Alberto’s there,’ said Dolly. And she knew – everyone knew – that Annie and the Mafia boss Alberto Barolli went way back. There had been times when Dolly herself had wondered about the closeness of their relationship. Not that she would ever tell Annie that. ‘Have some tea,’ she said.

‘Why not?’ asked Annie, although she thought it might choke her.

She had an hour to kill, and then he’d be gone. Then she’d go home, wait for Layla to come in from school, try and console her – if she could. And somehow, after that, she was going to have to carry on, to salvage something from the train wreck of her life.

2

Talk about the best-laid plans, though. Her plan had been to meet Dolly at the Ritz as arranged, give it at least an hour; that would be ample time for him to get the hell out of her house. But no. When she opened the front door at Holland Park, there was Max’s overnight bag and suitcase still in the hall – and from the study, there came the sound of Layla crying.

Annie closed her eyes and leaned against the door. Please, no more, she thought.

But she pushed herself upright and walked over to the study and eased the door open.

Max was there, leaning on the desk. Layla, wearing her school uniform of plain skirt and white blouse, her dark hair pulled back into a pleat, was holding on to him and sobbing.

Fourteen years old, thought Annie. God, what are we doing? What are we putting her through?

Max looked up at his ex-wife as she stood there. Annie felt her guts constrict as he stared at her. Her husband. Correction: ex-husband. He had chipped away at her love for him remorselessly, but still – even now – she found him physically almost irresistible with his black wavy hair, his tanned skin, his predatory hook of a nose, his dense, dark navy-blue eyes. Even if they were looking at her with something close to hatred, right this minute.

‘Layla?’ said Annie hoarsely. ‘What are you doing home? You’re meant to be in school.’

Layla said nothing, just shot her a tear-stained glance and cuddled closer to Max.

Max cleared his throat. ‘She was afraid I’d be gone before she got home, so she told them she felt ill.’

‘Well, she shouldn’t have done that.’ Annie’d had no education to speak of, and she was always determined that Layla, who was very bright, should not be raised the same way. Layla’s schooling was of the utmost importance.

‘I don’t want you to go!’ shouted Layla, and started sobbing again. ‘Please, Daddy, don’t go.’

‘We’ll still see each other. As often as you want. I’ll come to London to see you, and you’ll come out to see me,’ said Max, rubbing his daughter’s back soothingly.

‘It’s not the same.’

Annie could only stand there, feeling sickened and powerless. This was a bloody disaster. Max was supposed to have been gone before Layla got home – to avoid a scene. Only it was all going wrong, pulverizing her afresh with the pain. She hated what they were doing to Layla. But it was done. And it was best now – wasn’t it? – to just get this over with.

Max straightened, seeming almost to read her thoughts.

‘I’d better go,’ he said, easing Layla away from him.

‘No, Daddy, please don’t,’ she wailed.

As if she was four, not fourteen, thought Annie in anguish, feeling Layla’s torment as if it was her own.

‘I’ll call you,’ said Max, kissing Layla’s cheek. ‘Very soon. OK?’

Layla nodded dumbly, crying more quietly.

Max moved away from her, came towards the open door where Annie stood. He paused there, and their eyes met. If she reached out to him now, said,