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‘Are you family?’
Yet again, she thought of lying, but it was pointless, so she just trowelled on the connection. ‘No, but I’m an old family friend. We’ve been very close since we were born—almost like brother and sister.’
And ex-lovers, she nearly added, but that was nobody else’s business and she wasn’t going to spread something so personal all over the hospital. Not when his brother worked there.
So they wouldn’t tell her any more, but that was fine. There were strings she could pull, and she fully intended to pull every single one of them. Starting with Luca…
He felt like hell.
He lay there for a moment, assessing his body. It was throbbing, and after a bit the throbbing separated out so he could catalogue it.
His right hand hurt. He tried to flex his fingers, but it didn’t seem like a good idea and anyway his hand seemed to be heavily bandaged.
OK. Right thigh—well, that certainly hurt, with a deep ache close up by his groin, but thankfully not that close.
And his right foot. They’d cut his jeans off to get to his leg, and they’d wanted to cut the boot off—his favourite boots. It had taken ages to break them in like that. He’d refused to let them, vaguely detached from it all through loss of blood. Until they’d eased it off. He hadn’t been detached then, and the last thing he remembered was the sickening pain. He must have passed out at that point.
And he had a killer headache. He frowned. She hadn’t touched his head, but maybe when he’d fallen he’d cracked it on the wall behind him. Either that or she’d had a rock in that ludicrous bag.
He breathed in, caught the hint of a familiar scent and his eyes flew open, searching for her.
‘Anita?’
She came into view, her warm brown eyes troubled. She was smiling, but there was a slight tremor in her lips, and she was pale. He’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life.
‘Ciao, Gio,’ she murmured, leaning over him to brush a kiss against his cheek. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Fine,’ he lied, but she just snorted and raised a slender, disbelieving eyebrow a fraction.
‘I am. Of course I’m all right.’
‘Well, you don’t look it. You look like you’ve been partying with the vampires.’
‘Very funny,’ he said, turning away so he didn’t have to see the worried look in her eyes.
‘I called Luca,’ she said, and he snapped his head back round again.
‘You what?’
‘I called Luca. They wouldn’t tell me anything, wouldn’t let me in to see you, so I pulled strings.’
Damn. ‘What did he say?’
‘He’s threatening to come back.’
‘That’s ridiculous! It’s just a scratch—’
‘Gio, you don’t get taken into Theatre for a scratch!’
She broke off, took a breath and then carried on in a level tone, ‘Anyway, your mother snatched the phone off him before he could say much and she’s pretty upset. I promised I’d get you to ring her the moment you came round.’
He let out a short, harsh sigh and closed his eyes.
He shouldn’t have called her—except, of course, he would have had to because he was supposed to have been picking her up en route. And when he didn’t turn up and she couldn’t get him, she would have rung alarm bells anyway.
‘You shouldn’t have called him.’
‘They already had. They asked me for family contact details, and they wouldn’t tell me anything so I had no idea how badly you’d been hurt, but it sounded bad. They used the word “urgent”,’ she said drily. ‘It didn’t seem like the time to argue.’
No, of course not. What was he thinking? The moment he’d been admitted and they found out his identity they would have been on the phone to his brother, because he worked in the hospital and was known to all of them.
And now apparently Luca was threatening to come back and his mother was in hysterics and all because some stupid, stupid woman had come after him.
‘So—what actually happened?’ she asked, perching on the edge of the chair beside him and reaching for his hand, then thinking better of it because of the bandages.
‘A client’s ex-business partner hit me with her handbag,’ he said, his voice disgusted, and she gave a tiny incredulous laugh.
‘Excuse me? Her what?’
‘Humiliating, isn’t it,’ he said drily, ‘but it gets worse. I ducked out of the way, tripped over the kerb and fell over my own refuse bag. That’ll teach me to do my recycling properly.’
Anita glared at him. ‘Gio, how can you joke about it? They told me it was serious! What really happened?’
He gave a short, dry laugh. ‘That is exactly what happened, and believe me, it feels pretty serious. I hurt like hell.’
‘I can imagine.’ She bit her lip, puzzled. She still hadn’t got to the bottom of this, she was sure. ‘So—what did she actually do to you? Really?’
‘Apart from attempting to knock me out with her handbag? Nothing. She didn’t need to. Goodness knows what she keeps in it, the thing weighed a ton. Anyway, it knocked me off balance and I fell over the refuse bag. Then I pulled the glass out. Not a smart move.’
She rolled her eyes, then frowned, sifting through his words again and coming up with something she didn’t understand. ‘What glass, Gio? Pulled it out of what?’
‘I reckon it was a wine bottle. I dropped the bag, and I heard glass breaking before I fell on it. I cut my hand when I fell, and a piece stuck in my thigh, so I pulled it out, but it wasn’t a good idea because it had severed the artery. If it happens again, apparently, I have to leave it there. Don’t worry, it missed the important bits,’ he added drily.
She glared at him, shocked he’d been hurt so badly and furious that he was treating it so lightly when she’d been going through hell. ‘This is no time for joking, Gio! A severed artery? You could have bled to death!’
He reached out his hand, then remembered and dropped it carefully back onto the covers.
‘Come round this side,’ he said gruffly, but there was a drip there and it was no better.
Actually, that wasn’t true. It was better. She sat down beside him, threaded her shaking fingers carefully through his and closed them firmly round his hand.
Dio, it felt good to hold her. The warmth from her palm spread into him and thawed the ice that seemed to have formed inside him, and as the tension eased, he realised how tight he’d been holding himself.
For a moment they said nothing, then she frowned slightly, her brow puckering as she tried to make sense of it.
‘Why did she try to attack you, Gio? Who was she? One of your thwarted lovers?’
He laughed softly. ‘No. A very disappointed woman. We had a meeting with her today, the reason I had to delay leaving, and she came off worst. She feels I cheated her.’
‘And did you?’
‘No. I just made sure she got what she deserved from my client, which was nothing,’ he said, and he watched her frown again.
‘Wow. And she attacked you for that?’
‘Well, to be fair I did most of it myself when I fell up the kerb and landed on the bag. Apparently my ankle isn’t broken, though, which is good news. It’s just bruised and sprained.’
He nearly laughed at the ‘just’ but he hurt too much to bother.
‘And your hand?’ she asked, arching a brow towards his bandaged fingers. ‘I can still see all your fingers, so I guess you didn’t cut them off.’
‘No. They seem to be there and they all move. As I say, most of it was my own fault.’
‘Mmm. That really wasn’t very clever, was it?’
He snorted at the mild understatement, and her fingers tightened a little. ‘Sorry. The police are here, by the way, waiting for you to feel well enough to talk to them. And you need to phone your mother.’
He nodded. ‘Call her now for me—I’ll talk to her first. And then I’ll talk to the police. She didn’t really do anything.’
‘Gio, she attacked you. If she hadn’t, none of this would have happened.’
‘She hit me with her handbag. That’s all. The police don’t need to be involved.’
‘And if she comes after you again?’
He shrugged. ‘She won’t. And if she does, I’ll be ready for her this time.’
She gave up arguing. She dialled his mother, handed him the phone and then left him alone and went and found something to eat and drink.
It could have been fantastic, or cardboard. It wouldn’t have made any difference, because she couldn’t taste it, not with the image of him lying there like a ghost so fresh in her mind. But it was food, and she ate it mechanically while she beat herself up about not answering his first call.
What if he’d died? What if he’d rung her, and then passed out from loss of blood before he could call an ambulance? No, he must have called one first. He surely wouldn’t have been stupid enough to call her so many times before he called the medical services? Maybe, if he had her on speed-dial. Maybe he’d thought it would be quicker, but then she hadn’t answered, and that could have cost him his life…
She felt sick, and pushed away the last of her panini. Cardboard, she decided finally, realising she was probably being unfair, but whatever, she couldn’t eat any more of it. She went back to him, and found him propped up on his pillows looking pale and drawn and very tired.
‘What did the police say?’
‘They’re going to talk to her. Apparently she called an ambulance, so she at least has a conscience, but her phone’s now switched off—’
‘She called an ambulance?’
‘Yes—why?’
Because it meant he wouldn’t have died because of her. She shook her head, relief taking her legs out from under her, so she sat down shakily on the chair beside him. ‘Nothing. I’m just surprised. So how are you feeling?’
He shrugged. ‘Much the same. The doctor’s been, as well, while you were gone. They’re going to keep me in overnight and review me in the morning, but they think I can probably go home tomorrow. I have to have another blood transfusion. The vampires were a bit greedy.’
He smiled, but she couldn’t smile back. Not when he’d come so close. She looked at her watch. Nearly midnight.
‘I’ll go home now, then, and I’ll come back in the morning. Do you want me to bring you some clothes in when I come?’
‘Please. My bags are in the car already. If you could bring the small one, it’s got everything I’ll need. The big one’s just ski stuff. You’d better clear it with the police on the way out, or they might not let you get it. It’ll be a crime scene now, apparently. I’ve told them they’re over-reacting, but they seem to feel they need to collect the evidence. Here, my keys. It’s the little Mercedes sports, by the way.’
‘Where’s the Ferrari?’
He smiled. ‘I do too much driving in the city. It was fun, but not practical in the city streets. The Mercedes is much more sensible.’
‘That doesn’t sound like you.’
‘Maybe I’ve changed.’
She just laughed at that. Giovanni Valtieri would never change. She’d given up hoping for miracles.
She took the keys from him, and bent and kissed his cheek, letting her face rest there for a moment. She could feel the slight rasp of stubble, the roughness curiously comforting and reassuring as he turned his head against hers and touched her cheek with his lips.
‘I’ll see you in the morning,’ she murmured, and with another light brush of her lips against his jaw she straightened up and met his dark, weary eyes.
‘Ciao, Anita,’ he mumbled tiredly. ‘And thank you.’
‘Prego. You take care. No more fighting with women.’
He gave a soft chuckle and raised his good hand as she left, and she winked at him and went out into the corridor. The policeman was there, and she asked him to contact the team at his apartment building to alert them that she’d need access to his car.
Then she walked away without waiting for the OK. She was tired and emotionally exhausted, and she just wanted to get home, but first she had to get his bag. The area was cordoned off by the police, as he’d said, and she had to get them to escort her to his car and get the soft leather grip from it.
She made her way home, undressed and crawled into bed, but she couldn’t sleep. She could so easily have lost him—not that he was hers anyway, but the thought of him dying—
‘No! Stop it! He’s going to be all right. Stop torturing yourself.’
But all she could see was his washed-out face.
‘So can you go?’
‘Yes, but I have no idea where I’m supposed to go. I can’t drive like this, I can’t get upstairs to my apartment, and the police have said it’s not a good idea to go back to my apartment anyway until they’ve spoken to Camilla Ponti and assessed her state of mind, but they can’t find her anywhere. She wasn’t at her home address or any of the other places they’ve tried, and they just don’t think it’s a good idea for me to hang around in Firenze.’
She nodded. That made sense.
‘So why not go on holiday as we’d planned? I can drive.’
‘On a skiing holiday? What’s the point? I won’t be able to do anything. You go and join the others, I’ll just go home to the palazzo. Carlotta can look after me.’
She shook her head. ‘They’re away. They’ve gone to visit their grandchildren in Napoli while your family don’t need them. There’s no one there.’
Damn. He’d forgotten that. So what was he supposed to do?
‘Well, you’d better come with me, then,’ she said after a slight pause. ‘I’m on holiday now, so are you—we’ll go to my villa, and I can look after you.’
‘No. You’re supposed to be going skiing. You can’t do that for me,’ he objected, ludicrously tempted.
