The Sicilian's Bought Bride. Carol Marinelli

didn’t move a muscle, just stood in grim silence as her outburst continued, and his inaction incensed her, spurred her on to new levels of anger.

      ‘I’ve been in this hospital for seven hours taking care of things, so don’t you dare march in here and expect an eloquent detached statement, then snap your fingers in impatience if I don’t speak quickly enough for you!’ She looked up at him, her eyes furious and her chin jutting defiantly. ‘I am not a member of your family, Rico, and neither am I one of your staff. You have no right to demand anything from me, no right at all. However, if you will sit down and exercise some patience I will tell you, as best I can, what little I know.’

      For a second she thought he might hit her. Anger blazed in his eyes, the pent-up frustration of what must have been a hellish few hours undoubtedly exacerbated by her venom. But just as she thought she’d pushed him too far his wide shoulders slumped in an almost dejected fashion, and almost imperceptibly he gave a small nod, his Adam’s apple bobbing a couple of times as he looked around the room, as if seeing it for the first time. Registering the fake leather chairs, he chose one next to her and sat down, raking a hand through his short hair, over the dark stubble of his chin, before turning to face her.

      ‘I came as soon as I could,’ he said again, but this time, his words were quiet, raw with emotion—apologetic even—his eyes utterly bereft as he stared at her, and for a tiny slice of time she caught a glimpse inside the beautiful head of Rico Mancini. Understood the pain behind the inscrutable mask he wore so effortlessly for she felt the agony of this senseless loss too.

      ‘They went out for lunch,’ Catherine started, her voice almost a whisper. ‘They took Lily because apparently their nanny, Jessica, had walked out on them this morning.’

      He opened his mouth, then closed it quickly, and Catherine gave a grateful nod. She would answer the whys in her own time.

      ‘I went round last night, Rico.’

      ‘You were there last night?’ His eyes widened and she could almost hear his brain whirring into motion, almost foretell the questions on the tip of his tongue. But somehow he managed to hold them in, to let her tell her tale in her own time.

      ‘I was at a parent-teacher night at school. It didn’t finish till after nine, and for some reason—for some reason I…’ Her fists clenched in her lap as the pain became almost more than she could bear, and only when he took her hand, only when he held it in his, was Catherine able to go on. ‘I went round,’ she whispered. ‘I just couldn’t be a bystander any more. What Janey and Marco got up to might have been their business, but if it was affecting Lily I couldn’t just sit back and watch…’

      Her eyes met his, imploring him to understand, and she was rewarded with a small nod. ‘Of course they weren’t at home, but I decided to wait. I spoke to Jessica—I wanted to find out if things were as bad as I feared or if I was just imagining it—and believe me she was only too happy to unload. Apparently she was sick of the way they carried on—the wild parties, the mess, and the fact they consistently forgot to pay her didn’t help. It was supposed to have been her night off, but yet again Janey and Marco had gone out without telling her.’

      Catherine was staring at their hands now, their fingers interlaced, and the contrast between them had never been more obvious. His dark and strong, a heavy watch on his wrist, such a contrast to her pale and trembling hands, an inkstain on her fingers, her nails short and neat but certainly not as groomed.

      ‘We both waited for them to come home.’

      For an age he said nothing, just held her hand tighter before gently saying, ‘There was a confrontation?’

      ‘I believe that would be the polite term for it.’

      She screwed her eyes closed, the images of last night too horrible to relive. The harsh words she had spoken in anger were out now, with no hands of time to soothe them over the years.

      ‘Jessica said she was leaving in the morning. That as soon as they’d sobered up enough to take responsibility for Lily she was going to get out of there—which is presumably why they took Lily to lunch with them,’ Catherine carried on. ‘You would have thought that might have slowed them down, forced them to behave responsibly…’ Her voice trailed off, and this time when Rico broke in it wasn’t unwelcome.

      ‘They were drinking.’ It wasn’t a question, more a statement, but Catherine shook her head.

      ‘I’m not sure what they were doing. According to the blood test Marco wasn’t over the limit, but the police have ordered a drug screen. Apparently Marco was stumbling when they left the restaurant, and the doorman said he was utterly incoherent as they walked out. The lunch went till four. The only sensible thing they did all day was make sure that Lily was strapped in her car seat before they took off.’

      ‘Who was driving?’

      ‘Marco.’

      ‘Was anyone else…?’ His questions weren’t rapid now, and they were no longer unwelcome. The whole sorry mess was easier shared.

      ‘No one else was hurt. It seems Marco lost control or fell asleep at the wheel. They shot through the safety barrier onto the other side of the road, but thankfully they didn’t hit anyone else.’

      ‘Did they…?’ Rico’s eyes screwed closed and his fist balled again, only this time not in anger.

      ‘Apparently they didn’t suffer.’ She repeated the nurse’s words, hoping they might bring Rico the comfort that had eluded her, but the wry twist of his mouth told her the effect was about the same.

      ‘They left that part to us.’

      Us.

      Even in the depths of despair the word offered a shelter for her mind to run to and hide for a while from the onslaught of the day and she took welcome refuge. Rico’s hand tightened harder around hers; his grip warm and strong and it helped—helped her get through the next few seconds at least.

      ‘Sorry to interrupt.’ The nurse was back now, standing hesitantly at the door, a sympathetic smile on her young face and as Rico’s hand dropped hers like a hot stone, cruel reality invaded.

      There is no us, Catherine reminded herself. There never has been.

      She was in this alone.

      ‘I’m going off on my break in a few minutes. Would you like me to walk you back up to the children’s ward before I go? It’s a bit of a maze…’

      ‘That won’t be necessary, thank you.’ Rico stood up, the tenderness she had briefly witnessed flicking off like a light switch, as he asserted his authority in an instant. ‘I have already been to the children’s ward and seen Lily. I explained to the sister in charge that Miss Masters and I will be staying at a nearby hotel tonight and will be back first thing in the morning. Thank you,’ he said again crisply, effectively dismissing her, and as the door closed Catherine blinked at him a couple of times.

      ‘You’ve been to see Lily?’

      ‘Of course.’

      Of course. The words played over in her mind. Of course he would have been to see her first. Marco and Janey were dead, there was nothing he could do there, why wouldn’t he rush to see his niece? It made perfect sense, but a chill of foreboding crept over her as she met his dark, brooding stare, saw his eyes narrow suspiciously as he watched her.

      ‘I don’t want to go to a hotel and leave her.’ Catherine stood up, relieved that her legs, although still trembling, seemed at least to be holding her now. ‘I don’t think she should be alone tonight. If she wakes up—’

      ‘The nurses will deal with her,’ Rico said crisply ‘And if there is a problem we are only two minutes away. That is why I have booked into a hotel rather than go home; we will be literally across the road.’

      ‘But I’d be next to her here,’ Catherine pointed out. ‘Just because you’re too grand to sleep on a roller bed it doesn’t mean that I am.’

      ‘I