Forever (40 page)

White-faced with anger, Colonel Valerio
barked a dozen orders as he ran along the
Chrysalis
's main
deck, two storeys above the Riva. Here and there he took short cuts
so" that he would be in place, waiting for her by the time she
crossed the bow.

Waiting. To scare her off.

He unsnapped his hip holster as he ran.
Brought up the weapon he was carrying, a dark, oily MAC-10 machine
pistol.

If the warnings reverberating from the
bullhorn speakers didn't scare her off, he knew what would.

A spray of bullets.

It worked like a charm. Every time.

From the corner of her eye, Stephanie was
aware of the
Chrysalis
's bow coming up. It was almost time
for another turn.

She let the Riva slow enough so that the bow
began to descend. Just ahead, she caught sight of a huge indented
square in the yacht's hull - with a massive taut chain angling down
into the water!

Her heart began to pound. The anchor chain!
My God! It was right in front of her - the speedboat leaping
towards it! Quick! Right - right]

Frantically, she spun the steering wheel as
far to the right as it would go, praying that she could somehow
avoid smashing into that chain!

As she watched, the gap between speedboat
and anchor chain narrowed, the huge heavy links growing larger and
larger in front of her horrified eyes. Now she could clearly see
the rough rusty surface of once-smooth steel, calculated the gap .
. . fifteen feet, twelve, ten, seven ... the chain was looming, the
Riva still speeding towards it. It was too late. She would
crash.

Her breathing had stopped and her body
tensed as she waited for the shrill screech of fibreglass on metal,
the smashing of the hull -

Five feet. . . four. . . three . . . then
the world was reduced to a single foot-long link frozen in her
mind. She threw her arms protectively up in front of her when the
Riva, just beginning to turn, slewed into the chain, the impact
shattering the hull and throwing her high into the air and tossing
her overboard like a lifeless limp rag doll.

But God was merciful. The world went black
before she hit the water.

'Eduardo!' screamed Zarah. 'What do you
think you are doing?'

He turned towards her, precariously
balancing himself on the middle railing with bare toes. 'I have to
help her, Mother. I'm going to dive down.'

'No!' Zarah shouted. 'No! For the love of
God, I forbid it!' Violently shoving Ernesto aside, she ran over to
her son.

'I have to, Mother. She could be
drowning!'

'Then let her!' Zarah reached out and
grabbed him around the thighs, tugging him off the railing with
arms like steel. Her face was a hideously contorted mask. 'You
fool!' she hissed. 'Don't you seel This woman -' She glared at him.
it's exactly what she wants! To come on board!

He tried to pull away from her, but she held
tight. 'Mother!' he blurted. 'Let go of me!'

'No!' she hissed shrilly. 'You cannot rescue
her. I forbid it. Eduardo, you will not. I do not care if she dies.
No one gets aboard this yacht. Do you hear me?' She shook him
violently.
No one!
'

At Sea

The blackness became a grey fog, and the fog
a white shroud of mist. And then that, too, dissipated, and the
first thing Stephanie laid eyes on was the most handsome young man
she had ever seen. He was staring down at her, smiling gently.

'I kissed you,' he said softly. 'Just like
in the fairy tales. And you woke up.'

'Are you an angel?' she whispered.

He laughed softly. 'No, I'm afraid not.' His
English was perfect, tinged with a mere hint of an accent.

'Then I'm not dead?'

'Oh no, definitely not.' He smiled again. 'I
dived into the sea and heroically fished you out. So you see, if it
is heaven you're seeking, you're going to have to try harder the
next time.'

Slowly Stephanie moved her head on the
pillow, using the excuse of looking around to break his intense eye
contact -

- and realised, with a start, that she had
never been in this room before! It certainly didn't belong in a
hospital - it was far too luxurious and ultramodern for that. All
silvery-blue lacquered walls, padded white leather ceiling,
seamless black-and-white wall-to-wall carpeting.

Everything, she noticed, was silvery blue
highlighted with black and chalky white - from the king-size bed
she was in, with its curved padded head- and footboards and
built-in nightstands trimmed with silver, to the round platform it
was centred upon; from the low, sleek leather couches accented with
gold lame pillows in the far corner, to the silk festoon blinds
drawn over the large windows.

Slowly she turned her head and stared up at
him. 'Where - where on earth am I?' she whispered hoarsely.

'In good hands,' he replied soothingly,
reaching out and gently rearranging her bangs over her forehead.
'You have absolutely nothing to worry about. Everything is all
right now. You are going to be fine.' He smiled and repeated, 'Just
fine. You were very lucky, you know.'

Lucky . . .?

And then it all came rushing back to her.
The
Chrysalis
, the Riva, the accident.

God, how could she have been so stupid! What
had got into her? She could so easily have killed herself . . .
almost had, as a matter of fact. Small wonder that she ached all
over, that she felt as if she had been beaten to within an inch of
her life.

A sudden thought occurred to her. 'Have I
been here for long?' she asked tremulously.

He tilted his head. 'Oh, not too long.'

Something about his evasiveness caused a
fear to clutch at her insides. 'How long?' she demanded
sharply.

He gestured dismissively. 'Only two
days.'

'What!' Stephanie exclaimed, and abruptly
tried to sit up. She regretted it instantly; a thousand splinters
of pain shot through every part of her body. Slowly, she lay back
down and sighed wearily. 'Two whole days . . .' she whispered. 'Two
entire days . . . gone . . . just like that . . .'

He stared at her. 'What is two days when you
have your
life!
Remember, you were in quite a bad accident.
Dr Vassiltchikov says it is a miracle you are even alive. But what
we all find even more miraculous is that your X-rays do not show a
single broken bone. Not one!' He held her gaze. 'I would say you
were born under a very, very lucky star.'

She looked at him steadily. 'You're right,'
she said. 'I'm being highly ungrateful. I owe you my life.'

He shook his head. 'I was merely on
hand.'

Suddenly her eyes filled with tears, 'it was
so stupid of me! I don't know what got into me!'

He reached for her hand and held it. 'Forget
it. Just thank God you are in one piece, which is more than can be
said for the Riva.'

'The Riva! Oh, shit!' She shut her eyes
momentarily. 'They're going to love me at the Club,' she added,
wincing.

'Don't worry, I have already taken care of
it. They were very understanding and asked me to convey their best
wishes. Also, they let me collect your things. Your clothes are in
the wardrobe over there, your toiletries are in the bathroom, and
your passport is in the nightstand beside you.'

Her eyes widened. 'But... in that case . . .
where am I?'

'Oh, I would guess approximately sixty miles
west of the Bay of Naples.'

'Naples!' she gasped. 'You don't mean
Naples, Italy?

He smiled. 'You didn't expect Naples,
Florida, did you?'

'But ... but I was just in Spain!' she
sputtered. 'In Marbella!' Her eyes were wide. 'Where am I? Where is
this room?' She stared around uncomprehendingly.

'Hmm, I suppose it did slip my mind to
mention it.'

'I'll say it did,' she snapped tartly, a
spirited kind of anger flashing in her eyes.

'Nor have we been introduced yet,' he went
on smoothly, 'a circumstance in which I certainly have the
advantage over you. From your passport, I know that you are Ms
Monica Williams from the United States.' He was still holding her
hand, and now raised it to his lips. 'To remedy the advantage,' he
said softly, his lips a mere breath on her fingertips, 'let me
introduce myself. I am Eduardo Aloisio Collor de Veiga.'

'De Veiga! Then I'm-'

He nodded. 'That's right. An honoured guest
aboard the motoryacht
Chrysalis
: He chuckled. 'Though I will
say, your arrival made more of a splash than most guests', if you
will pardon the pun!' He cocked one eyebrow engagingly.

Despite herself, she smiled weakly.

He let go of her hand and gently tucked the
sheet up around her neck. 'Now, try and get some more rest.
According to Dr Vassiltchikov, it's the best medicine under the
circumstances. If you need anything, no matter how minute, do not
hesitate. Simply press the appropriate button on the nightstands.
They are all labelled, see?' He showed her. 'Steward, maid, doctor,
cook . . . you can summon any of them with the touch of a finger.
And these operate the curtains, lights, doorlock, and bath
water.'

'Like magic.' A ghost of a smile hovered on
her lips. 'Maybe I have gone to heaven.'

He smiled. 'I certainly hope you will think
so,' he said, his words and gaze conveying unmistakable meaning.
'And now I will leave you to rest.'

She watched him cross the carpet to the door
and open it, his every movement reminding her of a big lean jungle
cat.

She struggled to sit up. 'Eduardo?' she
called out softly.

Holding the doorhandle, he turned his head
and looked questioningly over at her.

She caught her breath. He was bathed in the
light of a recessed spot, and, if anything, it only seemed to
accentuate his sculptural good looks.

How incredibly handsome, how unpardonably
gorgeous he was. His suntan the colour of honey, his hair so thick,
and such a rich shade of black it seemed almost blue. Though his
face was still softened by youth, it was angular, the features
defined and virile.

She suspected such handsomeness often
spelled trouble for him.

And, if I'm not cautious, it can just as
easily spell trouble for me, she thought. I'll be well advised to
keep my emotions in check.

'Yes?' he asked softly.

For a long moment she could only hold her
breath and stare back at him. Finally, she averted her eyes, shook
her head, and murmured very softly, 'Thank you.' Then she lowered
her head to the pillow and shut her eyes. Pretending to drift off
to sleep.

He looked at her a moment longer and then
stepped out, quietly shutting the door behind him.

After he was gone, she opened her eyes and
lay there, staring up at the creamy leather ceiling.

Stiffly, slowly, she made herself sit up,
swung her sore legs out over the bed, and inched her body up until
she was standing. Then she gingerly slipped out of the Egyptian
cotton nightshirt someone had dressed her in, and which certainly
wasn't part of her wardrobe, and dropped it on the bed.

A series of rapid, unexpected knocks on the
door startled her. She was elated. He's back already! she thought
happily, suddenly feeling no pain. He can't stay away from me!

Grabbing the top bedsheet, she held it in
front of her nude body and called out, 'Yes?'

The door opened.

'Eduardo told me you were awake,' announced
the short bird of a woman who entered. 'I,' she said, 'am Dr
Vassiltchikov.'

Stephanie swore she sounded just like Dr
Ruth, and she was just about as tiny. But there the resemblance
stopped. Dr Vassiltchikov was thin and fine-boned and wore her
grey-and- black hair in a youthful pageboy cut. She also wore
half-glasses, the Ben Franklin kind, and looked about as old as Ben
Franklin, too. Her skin was half crepe and half deep furrows.
Stephanie wondered if she'd been an intern during the Crimean
War.

'May I come in?'

Stephanie tried to think of a good reason to
say no, but came up empty.

'Why not?' She shrugged.

The little doctor nodded curtly, came in,
and shut the door behind her. Crossing the carpet, she beamed up at
Stephanie and wagged an admonishing finger. 'Since you are getting
up, we better first check to see if you have the concussion.
JaT

Stephanie sighed, but nodded.

'First, you must sit back down,' the doctor
ordered, automatically sticking the earpieces of the stethoscope
which hung around her neck, into her ears. 'And drop that silly
sheet. I'm sure yours is not the first naked body I have ever seen,
jaV

She even giggled like Dr Ruth.

'Mother?'

Hearing his voice, Zarah smiled brilliantly
and closed the French edition of
Vogue
. She was lounging
sideways on one of the curved shaded banquettes which were built-in
all around the covered aft deck, the floor of which comprised the
overhanging roof of the Magnum's wet berth, directly below.

Even for morning, Zarah was exceedingly well
turned out. Wore very bright makeup, expertly applied. Loose, aqua
silk lounging pyjamas with a loose, pink silk top. Her hair was up,
wrapped with an aqua turban which left a yard of excess silk
hanging down the right side. Her high-heeled sandals were aqua, and
so, too, were the lenses of the big, diamond-studded,
butterfly-shaped sunglasses she was wearing. Big square-cut
aquamarines, interspersed with big pink coral beads, hung from her
neck and wrist and ears.

'We haven't seen you all morning, Eduardo,'
she chided in Portuguese, holding up a cheek.

He bent down to kiss it.

'You even missed breakfast.'

'I know, Mother. I'm sorry.'

Reading the expression on her son's face,
she said, 'Ah. You were with her.' She sighed. 'Like a moth to a
flame, so you are drawn to her!'