Page 43 of Meet Me at Sunset

Within minutes, the backstage area was cleared.

Acting under Camille’s instructions, René expertly shepherded everyone through to the bar and terrace area where a drinks reception had been set up, and the VIP guests were none the wiser that anything out of the ordinary was taking place.

A couple of journalists attempted to linger, having heard raised voices and sensing something was amiss, but the burly security guards soon dealt with them.

‘I’ve called the police. They’ll be here shortly,’ Nicolas said discreetly to Camille, who nodded in thanks.

Paulo was pacing the room like a caged animal, fury and self-righteousness emanating from him.

‘You could have just paid me the money, Camille,’ he said, rounding on her, his eyes wild and his face contorted. ‘And all this would have gone away. But now everyone will know, and your reputation will be ruined.’

‘What is he talking about?’ Lucas frowned. ‘What money?’

‘It would have been a drop in the ocean to you, Camille. But you were as tight-fisted as ever and couldn’t bear to part with it. Maybe you thought I was bluffing, but you underestimated me. I’ll tell the world!’

‘What’s going on?’ Lucas demanded, looking as though he might explode in frustration.

‘So it was you, Paulo. I should have guessed as much, you were always spiteful and jealous of my family,’ Camille said, turning to her son. ‘It appears Paulo has been blackmailing me for some time, until he got greedy.’

‘Blackmailed?’ Lucas burst out. ‘About what? Wait, is this to do with the restaurant?’

Paulo laughed loudly. ‘Lucas, you really are pathetic. You think this was all about your little restaurant? No one cares about that. Just go back to being a spoilt little rich boy, it’s what you do best. You don’t need to pretend to earn a living, Mummy will bail you out, just like she always has.’

Lucas looked shocked by the venom in Paulo’s voice. ‘But what was the blackmail about?’

Paulo, seething with rage, stared straight at Camille. ‘Why don’t you tell him?’

Everyone turned to her, and Nicolas put a steadying hand on her arm.

‘It’s about the accident,’ Camille said carefully. ‘Andre’s accident.’

‘Tell him the truth,’ Paulo heckled. ‘Tell him what really happened that night.’

‘Stop it … I already know …’ Lucas began, his voice coming out as a whisper.

‘At least I think I know. It was me, wasn’t it?

’ He looked up at Camille, his hazel eyes – which were so like her own – filled with anguish, and she felt as though her heart would break for him.

She’d tried to protect him from the truth for so long, and now she’d failed.

‘It was an accident, darling,’ she insisted. ‘It wasn’t your fault.’

‘I’ve been having flashbacks. I …’ He trailed off, piecing together what had happened that fateful night.

‘Happy birthday, Papa,’ Lucas grinned, pulling him into a hug, as he toasted Andre with a glass of champagne.

‘Thanks, Lucas,’ Andre grinned, taking a slug from his own glass, before Lucas topped it up.

‘Paulo?’ Lucas offered, holding out the vintage magnum of Dom Pérignon. It had cost the equivalent of most people’s monthly salary, but Andre had wanted to push the boat out on his birthday, with no expense spared.

‘Don’t mind if I do,’ Paulo said, as he stared round the room at the wealthy-looking patrons, the beautiful women, the low-key décor that screamed old money. ‘You Fontaines certainly know how to throw a party.’

‘You fit right in,’ Lucas laughed. ‘Even if you are wearing one of my tuxedos.’

‘I never needed my own. There’s not much call for formal wear in Cala de la Belleza,’ Paulo replied, before draining his coupe.

They were celebrating Andre’s forty-ninth birthday at Badrutt’s Palace in St Moritz.

It was a legendary five-star hotel, beloved by celebrities and socialites, a stunning building in the centre of Saint Moritz that looked like an ancient castle.

It overlooked Lake Sankt Moritz, and offered stunning views of the snowy Swiss Alps surrounding it.

The Fontaines loved mountain sports and ski season was one of their favourite times of year.

Camille hadn’t been able to attend Andre’s birthday weekend – she was being honoured with a prestigious design award at an event in Paris – so for Andre, this expensive lunch party was a culmination of a boys’ weekend of skiing at a luxurious rented villa, and three days of après-ski hedonism with a dozen of his friends and his beloved son, and with Paulo invited along to keep Lucas company.

Everyone downed their glasses and cheered. Lucas was starting to feel drunk, his vision blurring, as Andre clapped his arms around Lucas and Paulo.

‘Are you having a good time, boys?’

‘Yes, Papa,’ Lucas laughed at his father’s exuberance.

‘How about you, Paulo? Have you ever seen anything like this before?’

‘No, I haven’t.’ Paulo smiled tightly, and Andre didn’t seem to notice the acid touch to his tone. ‘I wouldn’t mind spending a lot more time in places like this. I feel right at home.’

Andre roared with laughter. ‘Nice to see a guy with ambition. Right, I think it’s time to take this party back to the chalet. Shall we head off, Lucas? Everyone can follow.’

‘Sure,’ Lucas grinned. ‘You coming, Paulo?’

‘Of course. You go on ahead. I’ll be there shortly.’

Andre helped Lucas into his jacket and the two of them walked outside, feet crunching in the snow, the bright sun giving the late afternoon a residual warmth.

Lucas carried an open bottle of champagne, taking swigs from it as they waited for the valet to bring the car round.

He handed the keys to Andre and the two men climbed in.

‘Top down, don’t you think?’ Andre said as he touched the control on the dashboard and the roof of the Ferrari convertible roof rolled back. Then he gunned the engine and the Ferrari roared to life.

Andre set off at speed, heading down the mountain on the narrow, winding roads towards their chalet, Lucas finding the air bracing, and shaking off a little of his alcoholic stupor.

Before long, another car appeared in the rear-view mirror, which then shot past them at speed, overtaking on a blind bend.

‘What the hell …’ Andre began, then he burst out laughing. ‘That was Paulo! Well, if he wants to play that game …’ Andre expertly revved the engine, the car roaring as it raced after the car in front.

They quickly caught up – Paulo’s GTI was no match for Andre’s powerful Ferrari – and swung out to overtake, the two vehicles side by side on the narrow mountain road. Lucas was laughing uncontrollably, waving and gesticulating as they overtook Paulo.

The road was silvery with a sheen of ice forming as the sun fell, the pinpricks of fading sunlight flickering on the mountainside.

‘Hey, Dad, let me drive,’ Lucas grinned. ‘I want to beat Paulo.’

‘Lucas …’ Andre smiled indulgently. ‘I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. How much have you had to drink?’

‘Just a couple of glasses, I’m fine. Come on, I want to have some fun too,’ Lucas pleaded. ‘We’re almost back at the chalet. Look,’ He pointed at a passing place on the roadside. ‘Pull in there and we can quickly swap over.’

Andre hesitated, then pushed his foot down on the accelerator, speeding to the spot next to the metal barrier at the side of the road and hastily pulling in.

‘Quick,’ he cried, as he jumped out of the car, flying high on a combination of adrenaline and cocaine.

Father and son were laughing hysterically as they ran around and swapped places, Lucas taking his father’s place in the left-hand driver’s seat, and quickly clicking his seatbelt in place. ‘I can see him!’

Paulo’s car breezily overtook them, and Lucas rammed his foot on the accelerator and pulled out so fast that his head slammed back against the seat, as Andre continued to fumble with his seatbelt.

Lucas was laughing harder than ever as the Ferrari ate up the distance between the two cars.

Paulo was going to flip when he realized it was Lucas who was cutting him up this time.

Lucas knew the road, but had never driven it at this speed, the champagne was fizzing in his system.

Lucas felt the coolness of the leather steering wheel in his palms, the smooth curve of the gearstick as he drove instinctively.

And then they were catching up with Paulo, and Lucas pulled out into the empty road, giving him a triumphant finger as they shot past, Andre banging on the dashboard in triumph.

‘Lucas, slow down, son, be careful, huh!’

Lucas was giddy with testosterone. He turned to look at his father, relishing the feeling of excitement, how connected he felt to his father at that moment.

But then he was struck with a moment of clarity, realizing his father was worried, and Lucas could see he was still struggling with his seatbelt, so he took his foot off the accelerator, and put pressure on the brake, as he approached the next bend.

As he did so, he caught sight of Paulo’s car coming up behind him fast in the wing mirror.

Lucas barely had time to register that the gap ahead was too sharp for them both to take it at speed, and as he slammed hard on the brake, Paulo rammed into their bumper and instantly the Ferrari was lifted sideways towards the barrier, breaking through it and hitting the tree on the other side before nestling precariously close to the steep incline.

Then everything fragmented for Lucas. A scream of agony. A crunch of metal. And then blackness.

Paulo had taken the corner too sharply to see what had happened to the Ferrari as they rounded the bend. Maybe he had mistimed his overtake, he told himself, but Andre was driving like a lunatic, and it served him right if that penis-extension sports car of his had taken a dent.