He’d already taken their cases downstairs to the concierge of the building, there at the ready for when the hire car arrived. It was due at ten-thirty, booked and paid for by their host to escort them to where his yacht was moored at a pier at Darling Harbour.

A glance at his watch showed it was ten twenty-nine.

‘Mike, what will I say if the Helsingers ask me questions about your family background?’ Natalie queried on the way to the lift.

‘Just tell them the truth,’ he told her bluntly.

‘But I don’t know anything about you.’

‘Exactly,’ he said, and hustled her into the lift. ‘Tell them you don’t know anything about me.’

‘But I can’t say that. They’d think I’m crazy to marry a man I don’t know anything about.’

‘Mmm. They could be right.’ He hit the button and the lift doors closed. ‘Say I had a horrible childhood, but I don’t like to talk about it.’

He could feel her looking at him, but he refused to look back at her. Things happened when he looked at her. Bad enough that her perfume was enveloping him in that closed space.

‘And did you? Have a horrible childhood?’

He dared to look at her now that he had a reason to be annoyed. ‘You’re an intelligent woman, Natalie. You already know I did. Let’s leave it at that, shall we?’

Natalie shivered under his harsh voice and suddenly cold eyes, so different from the way he’d looked at her earlier.

Any lingering excitement she might have been feeling over spending two romantic days with Mike on board of a luxury yacht faded to nothing. If he didn’t change his mood, this was going to be more than difficult. It was going to be miserable.

But the sight of a white stretch limousine waiting for them outside the apartment building lifted Natalie’s spirits.

Impossible not to feel some excitement when confronted by such luxury, plus the added little thoughtful touches inside. Champagne. Caviare. And a welcome message on the built-in television that the driver set into motion as soon as they were under way.

Even Mike smiled when their larger-than-life host filled the screen, introducing himself and his very pretty blonde wife before congratulating them on their recent marriage and saying how much he and Rosalie were looking forward to meeting them both.

‘So what do you think?’ Natalie whispered once it was over and the television went blank.

Mike pressed the button that operated the privacy screen, waiting till it slid into place before answering.

‘I think any man who wears a navy blazer with brass buttons has not been having me investigated.’

Natalie laughed. ‘He did look like an escapee from the fifties, didn’t he? But I rather liked him.’ Okay, so he was fat and bald. But he had a nice face. And happy eyes.