‘Trust me,’ he murmured again and began to lead her to the bed, drawing her down beside him.

Elise reached for him blindly and felt him, hard and purposeful as a weapon in her hand. But he bided his time, kissing her breasts first and then beginning to kiss her everywhere. Now there was nothing she could do but trust him, yielding herself to the fire in her flesh that mounted, consuming her.

He’d promised her tender care and he was keeping his word. The touch of his lips and fingers was gentle, with nothing to alarm her. But now she was such a contrary creature that, far from appreciating his restraint, she felt as if he were torturing her. She wanted more than this-much more-and he was making her wait.

She tried to urge him on, using her hands to incite him. Everything in her screamed, Please-but nothing would prevail on her to yield that far. Instead she sent the message with every caress, every flickering touch-a silent demand for pleasure and fulfilment.

Stroking his back, she could just make out his spine, the flexing of his muscles, then the swell of his behind, which she enclosed and drew towards her. Understanding, he reached out to part her legs, but she was ahead of him, welcoming him between them. There was one last moment when she seemed to be poised on the edge of a precipice, waiting to know if she would fly or fall.

She felt him seeking entry-slowly, with devastating control, easing himself in, forward, giving her the time she needed. Little by little he became part of her, gliding in easily because she was moist with desire, ready for him, gladly accepting each new revelation. And suddenly she was soaring into the clear air.

Now he was deep inside her, moving slowly, withdrawing just enough to return, then repeating the movement with renewed power.

The ultimate moment was a revelation, telling her that her body had been made for this. The violence of her pleasure was almost scary, and scarier still was the need to yield to it-fierce, overwhelming. Years of control and caution fell away from her, leaving her free to become the woman she had always been at heart.

Elise gripped him hard, wanting to draw him more deeply into her, to take control of him until he became nothing but an instrument for her delight. When a man was this good, a woman had the right to his services, didn’t she? The right to take and demand until she was satisfied. And she would never, ever be satisfied because the craving to feel him inside her, moving fiercely yet subtly, creating pleasure where pleasure had never existed before, was an endless need.

The cry that broke from her as she reached the pinnacle was part triumph, part despair that the end was in sight. She arched upward, her arms about his neck, while they thrust against each other until the moment when they both had to recognise that it was over.

He laid her gently back on the bed, his eyes fixed on her face. His breathing was coming in harsh gasps and his eyes were a little wild. Somehow she sensed astonishment-not in his expression but in his whole body. Whatever he’d expected to find in her bed, he’d found something else.

She let out a yell that was half a laugh, closing her eyes again, then giving a long sigh of contentment. Suddenly the whole world was wonderful. When she opened her eyes again he was leaning on one elbow, regarding her with wry interest.

‘Who are you?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know,’ she cried, throwing back her head and arching upwards in delight. ‘I don’t know and it’s wonderful.’

‘As long as it’s wonderful, that’s all right,’ he said.

‘Do you know who I am?’

Vincente shook his head. ‘No, I no longer have any idea.’

‘No longer,’ she echoed, laughing. ‘That means you once thought you did, but you were wrong, d’you hear?’

‘Yes, I was wrong,’ he said quietly. ‘I was wrong.’

It was in the early hours when Vincente slipped out into the silent street, got into his car and drove away in the direction of the River Tiber. At last he stopped and went to lean over the side, looking out over the water to where the lights of the Vatican City gleamed against the dark, like the promise of blessing in a wicked world.

Regarding the beautiful scene, his heart full of recent joys, he yet found a darkness inside him that he couldn’t shake off. His flesh still seemed to burn with the intensity of his desire and hers, and the fulfilment she had offered that had been like no other in his life, but his mind was haunted and troubled.

‘Buon giorno, signore.’

Lost in his thoughts, Vincente hadn’t heard anyone approach. Now he turned sharply and saw a mean-looking, undersized man with sharp, glinting eyes.

‘Do I know you?’ he demanded.

The man gave a silent laugh. ‘Probably not. So many people who hire me choose not to know me later. I respect that, but I do like to check that my work was satisfactory.’

‘Oh, yes. You,’ Vincente said distastefully. ‘Leo Razzini.’

‘The same.’

‘I did hire you, but it was some time ago.’

‘It was a long job and a hard one, but I worked well for you, didn’t I? I found the lady and the fat idiot she was married to, and I helped lure him to Rome so that you could offer him a job. It should have been easy for you after that. Pity he had to go and die. Still, you managed to-shall we say?-“persuade” her here in the end.’

‘I advise you to shut up and leave,’ Vincente said in a hard voice.

‘Of course you despise me now. With the job done and the lady in your power, you can afford to despise me. But my work was satisfactory. At least admit that.’

‘If this is an attempt at blackmail I warn you to go no further,’ Vincente raged softly. ‘I have enough friends in the police to have you locked up for years before you could get anywhere near her.’

‘Signore, please!’ Razzini sounded genuinely hurt. ‘Blackmail is something I never indulge in. It wouldn’t be safe. Some of my customers have made much worse threats than yours, and I know they mean them.’

‘Then what the devil do you want?’

‘A kind word, perhaps. I live by recommendations. After all, I can hardly advertise my line of work, can I? So if you hear of anyone needing my services, you might put in a word for me. Tell them how many others you put on the job before me, and that I was the one who cracked it. That’s all I ask, apart from the very generous fee you paid me. I hope you feel I provided value for money.’

‘I have no complaints with your service,’ Vincente said harshly.

‘It was the right lady that I tracked down for you?’

‘Yes,’ Vincente snapped.

‘I’m glad of that, because it wasn’t easy. You couldn’t give me much information to go on, but I did my best, and it all fell into place in the end. Don’t the English have a saying-all’s well that ends well?’

Vincente clenched his hands and thought of murder.

‘Shut up!’ he snapped. ‘Shut up! And if you know what’s good for you, clear out and never let me see you again.’

It was disconcerting that her first thought on waking was of Vincente, as though he were still there with her in the bed, still possessing her body. But then she opened her eyes and found that it was day, and the early sun was streaming in, and she was alone.

Elise had a dreamy memory of him kissing her forehead before he left, which seemed strangely formal after what they had shared. But perhaps that was for the best. In the night they had become different people, and that quiet kiss had seemed to mark the return to their daytime selves.

Who would have thought she would return to Italy like this?

When Ben had dragged her away from Rome she could never have foreseen the way she had awoken on her first morning back, yawning and stretching luxuriously in the great bed.

She felt full of vigour, leaping up and plunging into the shower. She breakfasted on coffee, feeling no need of anything else, and hurried to get dressed. Her exhilarated mood had calmed and now she was thinking of Angelo again, wanting to see again the places where they had been together in a time when happily ever after had seemed possible.

He had been twenty, a charming handsome boy and a ‘poor student’, he’d always claimed, although he’d seemed to do little studying and always had money to spend. Elise had suspected the existence of a well-off family in the background who’d urged him to study, paid him an allowance but took little further interest.

But she’d been too much in love to spend much time puzzling about the discrepancies. He’d loved her. She’d loved him, and their shabby apartment had been a haven where nobody was allowed to intrude.

Before leaving she took out the cellphone Vincente had given her the night before and turned it off. Deeply as he’d affected her, today was Angelo’s and she didn’t want to be disturbed.

There were a dozen places to visit, but her feet seemed to find their own way through the streets to the great Trevi Fountain. It was as magnificent and beautiful now as it had been then, the great half circle dominated by the statue of Neptune. It was here that Angelo had urged her to toss in a coin and promise never to leave him, or Rome. And she had promised with all her heart.

But the very happiness of the memories made them terrible to face. The young man she had loved was still here, sitting by the water, laughing at her as she hurriedly sketched him. She was clever at drawing and he had told her that she must become a great artist.

‘Not me,’ she’d protested. ‘I can draw well enough for fashion but real art would be beyond my reach.’

It was true, but she had a facility for capturing a likeness. Her picture of him had caught his essence-not just his face but his air of anarchic humour. She remembered how they’d gone back to his room and he’d stretched out on the bed, watching her as she converted the sketch to a water colour. He’d been delighted when she gave him the finished picture.

‘I shall have it framed and hung in a place of honour,’ he’d vowed. ‘Now come here.’

He’d held out his arms for her to join him on the bed, and she’d forgotten the rest of the world.

That had been almost their last happy time. A week later Ben had arrived. Now she wondered if Angelo really had framed the picture, and what had happened to it.

She stood looking at the water sparkling in the sunlight. Nearby was a young couple, tossing coins, vowing to return to Rome and love each other for ever.

‘For ever,’ she murmured. ‘If they only knew.’

Before leaving the fountain she closed her eyes and spoke to Angelo in her heart.

I’m sorry, she said. I’m so sorry for what I did to you. I never stopped loving you.

Suddenly her mind was filled with memories of the night before, when only Vincente had existed, and the warmth began to spread through her body again. She had loved Angelo passionately, but she had been an ignorant girl, with no knowledge of what a man’s skill could do for her, the heights to which it could drive her. She knew now that Angelo had been an unskilled boy, but she had loved him truly and never wanted more. Not then.

She shut off the thought. It was a betrayal of Angelo even to think of Vincente at this moment.

I love you, she told him again. Whatever-whatever happens, you will always be my true love.

Elise spent the next few hours going around the little cafés where they had been together, pleased to find so many of them still there. But in her heart she knew she was only putting off the moment she didn’t want to face, and finally she hailed a taxi and told the driver to take her to Trastevere.

She got out a short distance from the apartment and strolled through streets that had once been familiar to her. They were different, more prosperous. Some of the shops had been updated and when she went inside there were no faces that she recognised, although many of them had been family businesses.

The greatest shock was awaiting her when she came to the little street where the shabby buildings had huddled together. They were all gone and in their place was a building site, crawling with workmen.

‘Can I help you?’

The speaker was a middle-aged woman with a cheerful face.

‘I was looking for a place where I used to live,’ Elise said. ‘But it’s not here any more.’

‘That’s right. They’re spending money on Trastevere now, bringing it up to date. It doesn’t do to be sentimental about the old days.’

‘I suppose not. What about the people who used to live in this street?’

‘All rehoused. They won’t be back. These apartments will cost a mint when they’re finished. Whatever was here before has gone for ever.’