Ivo, a happy grin on his face…The banker who was caught trying to smuggle money out of Italy was set up. A man tipped off the border police. Ivo Palazzi.
Alec? Walther? Which? Elizabeth wondered.
The following morning a board meeting was held, and Rhys Williams was unanimously elected president and chief operating officer of Roffe and Sons. Charles raised the question that was on everyone’s mind. “Now that you are running the company, are we going to be allowed to sell our stock?”
Elizabeth could feel the sudden tension in the room.
“The controlling stock is still in Elizabeth’s hands,” Rhys informed them. “It’s her decision.”
Every head turned toward Elizabeth.
“We’re not selling,” she announced.
When Elizabeth and Rhys were alone, he said, “How would you like to honeymoon in Rio?”
Elizabeth looked at him, and her heart soared. He added matter-of-factly, “Our manager there is threatening to quit. We can’t afford to lose him. I was planning to fly there tomorrow to straighten things out. It would look a bit strange if I went without my bride.”
Elizabeth nodded and said, “Yes, of course.” You’re a fool, she told herself. This was your idea. It’s an arrangement, not a marriage. You have no right to expect anything from Rhys. And still, a small voice, deep inside her, said, Who knows what can happen?…
When they got off the plane at the Galeão airport, the air was surprisingly warm, and Elizabeth realized that in Rio it was summer. A Mercedes 600 was waiting for them. The chauffeur was a thin, dark-skinned man in his late twenties. When they got into the car, Rhys asked the driver, “Where’s Luis?”
“Luis is sick, Mr. Williams. I’ll be driving you and Mrs. Williams.”
“Tell Luis I hope he’ll be better soon.”
The driver studied them in the rearview mirror and said, “I will.”
Half an hour later they were driving along the esplanade, over the colorful tiles of the broad avenue along the Copacabana Beach. They pulled up in front of the modern Princessa Sugarloaf Hotel and a moment later, their luggage was being attended to. They were ushered into an enormous suite with four bedrooms, a beautiful living room, a kitchen, and a huge terrace overlooking the bay. The suite had been stocked with flowers in silver vases, champagne, whiskey, and boxes of chocolates. The manager himself had escorted them to their suite.
“If there is anything at all we can do for you—anything—I am personally at your service twenty-four hours a day.” And he bowed himself out.
“They’re certainly friendly,” Elizabeth said.
Rhys laughed and replied, “They should be. You own this hotel.”
Elizabeth felt herself color. “Oh. I—I didn’t know.”
“Hungry?”
“I—No, thank you,” Elizabeth replied.
“Some wine?”
“Yes, thank you.”
In her own ears her voice sounded stilted and unnatural. She was not certain how she was supposed to behave, or what to expect from Rhys. He had suddenly become a stranger, and she felt terribly conscious of the fact that they were alone in the honeymoon suite of a hotel, that it was getting late, and that it would soon be time for bed.
She watched Rhys as he deftly opened a bottle of champagne. He did everything so smoothly, with the easy assurance of a man who knows exactly what he wants and how to get it. What did he want?
Rhys carried a glass of champagne to Elizabeth and raised his own glass in a toast. “To beginnings,” he said.
“To beginnings,” Elizabeth echoed. And happy endings, she added silently.
They drank.
We should smash our glasses into a fireplace. Elizabeth thought, to celebrate. She gulped down the rest of her champagne.
They were in Rio on their honeymoon, and she wanted Rhys. Not just for now, but forever.
The phone rang. Rhys picked it up and spoke into it briefly. When he finished he hung up and said to Elizabeth, “It’s late. Why don’t you get ready for bed?”
It seemed to Elizabeth that the word “bed” hung heavily in the air.
“Right,” she said weakly. She turned and went into the bedroom where the bellboys had put their luggage. There was a large double bed in the center of the room. A maid had unpacked their suitcases and prepared the bed. On one side was a sheer silk nightgown of Elizabeth’s, and on the other side a pair of men’s blue pajamas. She hesitated a moment, then began to undress. When she was naked, she walked into the large mirrored dressing room and carefully removed her makeup. She wrapped a Turkish towel around her head, went into the bathroom and showered, slowly lathering her body and feeling the warm soapy water running between her breasts and down her belly and thighs, like warm wet fingers.