‘You’ve been lying to me, straight-faced, for years,’ said Max, shaking his head in wonder.
‘Lying? No. That’s bullshit. I just didn’t tell you, that’s all.’
‘Oh yeah. The Mafia “code”. Your fucking “omerta”.’
‘That’s right.’
‘What a shitload of bollocks. You didn’t tell me you were seeing him. You fucking well deceived me. How the hell can you say you didn’t? You bloody did.’
‘I had to. The code—’
‘Fuck the code. And fuck you.’ Max dragged his hands through his hair then rubbed them over his face. He walked over to the wall, turned, walked back to the bed and stopped there, staring down at her.
‘And what the hell happened then?’ he asked. ‘Supposing I believe a damned word of it, that is. You heard the tale about that concubine who kept spinning tales for the Sultan to stop him cutting her head off?’
‘The Arabian Nights,’ said Annie, and shot a sour smile at him, even though her heart was hammering with dread. ‘Damn, you mean you’ve actually read a book in your life? News to me.’
Constantine had devoured books. Max? She had never seen him pick up a book of any description, not once. Two such different men she had fallen in love with. Max so fiery, and Constantine so controlling.
‘Is that what you’re doing? Spinning tales to save your neck?’ asked Max.
‘Do I have to?’
Max paced around the room, hands in trouser pockets, eyeing up the rugs, the four-poster bed, the big carved-oak dressing table. Then he stopped and looked at her sitting there in the bed, grey with exhaustion, big shadows under her eyes.
‘People in this town expect me to discipline you,’ he said. ‘Severely.’
‘For what?’
‘For what? You serious? You been sneaking off to see another man for years. A man you were married to. A man you jumped into bed with when I was off the scene.’
‘Are we really going to have that conversation again? It happened years ago, Max, and I thought you were dead.’
‘Everyone expects me to make you suffer.’
‘As I already said – for what?’
‘You seriously expect me to believe that you saw him again, met up with him – and you didn’t sleep with him? Why else would you carry on seeing him, and not tell me?’
‘I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t tell anyone.’ Annie sighed heavily and swiped a hand over her face. ‘Those are the Cosa Nostra rules. I don’t know how you found out about him. You never would have, from me. I swore a blood oath, Max, and that means something.’
Annie held out her hand, showed him the white scar on her palm.
‘You see this?’ she said.
‘What about it?’
‘That’s where Constantine cut me. When I married him, I married into the Mafia way of life too. It’s a serious commitment. He cut my hand and burned a picture of the saint and let the ashes fall into my cupped hands, and he said that if I ever betrayed that oath, then I would burn in hell, just like the saint was burning.’
‘And you believed that shit?’
‘It was an oath, Max. A blood oath. I would have thought that you, with all the people who work for you, would understand that.’ Annie stared at him. ‘So who gave him away?’
‘It was his sister,’ said Max.
Annie’s attention sharpened. She’d suspected it, but she found it hard to believe that Gina would betray her brother. ‘What, Gina? Really? You’re joking.’
‘That’s the only sister he had. Yeah, Gina.’ Max started pacing again, shooting her hostile looks as he did so. ‘She lost her marbles and started making phone calls. They went to Gary at the Blue Parrot. From then on I knew.’
‘God, I bet he was pleased when that happened,’ said Annie. ‘He’s moving his girlfriend into the Palermo to take over management there, did you know that?’
‘I knew it. And why not? Dolly Farrell’s gone.’
‘Gone? Someone killed her.’
‘I know that too. Your mate Hunter’s been on to me, asking what I know.’
‘And do you know anything?’
‘Should I?’
‘She was shot, Max. Someone shot her dead.’
‘Not me.’
‘Did I mention you?’
Max shrugged. ‘Maybe she was keeping bad company.’
‘Everyone loved Dolly.’
‘Not everyone. Case in point – she’s dead.’
Annie closed her eyes tight, rubbing at them with her fists. ‘Look, can we go on with this in the morning? I’m tired, I need to sleep.’
‘No, we fucking can’t. It couldn’t have been just one visit. How many times did you see him behind my back?’
‘There was more than one visit,’ admitted Annie. ‘There were quite a few.’
‘You cow,’ said Max, and came to the bed, very sudden.
He moves fast, she thought. Don’t I know that, better than anyone?
Suddenly he was leaning over her, and his hand was on her throat. It wasn’t squeezing, she took some comfort from that. His eyes might be blazing mad as they glared into hers, but his hand wasn’t squeezing and it could, easily.
‘Max . . .’ she tried to get out, but she couldn’t speak. It came out a groaning wheeze.
‘Shut up,’ he snapped.
Their eyes locked. Then, as suddenly as he’d grabbed her, he let her go. Annie’s hand flew to her throat. Max started pacing the room again, his movements tense with anger. Suddenly he stopped and turned to her. He paused. Seemed about to say something. Then he went out of the door, slamming it shut behind him. She heard him go off down the stairs, cross the entrance hall. The front door closed with a bang.
He was gone.