The Forbidden Ferrara Page 7

  Even now, in these direst of circumstances, she felt that dangerous heat spread through her body. That awareness that made her skin prickle and her stomach flip.

  He didn’t speak and his silence unsettled her more than his anger had.

  ‘I owe you thanks.’ Embarrassment made her rigidly polite. ‘For the lift and … and for your first aid skills. I’m grateful you arrived when you did, although I’ve no idea what you were doing there—’ And then suddenly she knew.

  He’d arrived ready to carry out his threat to tell her grandfather.

  The reminder that she still had to do that made her feel sick.

  ‘I gather he didn’t take the news well.’ His tone was flat and it took her a moment to understand that he thought her grandfather’s heart attack was somehow related to their situation.

  ‘I hadn’t told him. I was going to. I’d just walked in and he was lying there. I panicked—’ And that made her angrier than anything. Angry with herself. ‘I don’t know how I could have been so useless. I’ve done a first aid course. I should have known what to do.’

  ‘It’s different when it’s someone you love.’

  Were his words intended as comfort or statement of fact? Statement of fact, obviously. They didn’t have the sort of relationship that allowed comfort.

  That didn’t stop her knowing what she owed him. ‘How come you had one of those machines?’

  ‘The AED? We have them in all our hotels. One at reception, one in the health and fitness clubs. Sometimes one on the golf course. Our staff are trained in CPR as part of their induction programme. You never know when they could save a life.’ There was something in his voice that made her look closely at him but his profile revealed no clues as to his thoughts.

  ‘Santo—’

  ‘On second thought, why don’t we go and see if there is someone who can give us an update.’ Cutting across her, he opened the car door and then frowned as he realised Luca was asleep. ‘There is no sense in disturbing him. Luigi can stay with him and let us know the moment he wakes.’ He strode over to the other car and, after a brief exchange, Luigi eased his muscular bulk into the seat beside Luca.

  ‘Don’t you worry. If the little one so much as moves a muscle, I’ll call you. You concentrate on your grandfather.’

  Torn by her responsibilities, Fia allowed Santo to lead her into the Emergency Department.

  As they walked through the glass doors she heard the breath hiss through his teeth. Even a brief glance was enough for her to see the tension in those wide shoulders. And this time she was sure that he was thinking about his father.

  Of course she knew none of the details. Just that it had been sudden and that it had devastated the close-knit Ferrara family. Santo had still been at school, his older brother Cristiano away at university in the US. She’d seen pictures of the funeral in the paper, but she hadn’t attended. A Baracchi wouldn’t have been allowed within the charmed perimeter of the Ferrara circle but that didn’t mean she hadn’t felt his pain. It had seemed grossly unfair to her young mind that such a perfect family could suffer such a loss. Their father adored his three children. How was it right that he should die before his time?

  And now Santo was back here, forced into it by grim circumstances.

  The sight of a Ferrara in the hospital was enough to throw the staff into a frenzy. The top cardiologist had summoned his team and it was obvious from the flurry of activity that no expense or effort was being spared in the drive to save her grandfather.

  Her brother had been jealous of that, she remembered bleakly. The ability of the rich, powerful Ferrara brothers to open doors with just one look. He’d wanted that for himself. What he hadn’t understood was that their wealth and status had been achieved by hard graft. They didn’t demand the respect of others, they earned it.

  And in this instance she was grateful for their power and influence. It meant she had the best people taking care of her grandfather.

  The exchange with the cardiologist was brief, but it was enough to confirm what she’d suspected—that her grandfather was alive because Santo had shocked his heart back into normal rhythm. That knowledge added to the confusion in her brain. She didn’t want to be in debt to him, but at the same time part of her was proud that her son’s daddy was a man who could save a life.

  They were shown to a small room reserved for relatives and something about those impersonal, clinical surroundings increased her feeling of desolation. And perhaps he felt it too because he didn’t sit, but instead stood with his back to her, staring out of the window at the chaos of the city.

  Fia waited for him to leave and when he didn’t her good opinion started to fade. Resentment grew with each passing moment. ‘You don’t have to stay. Even if he recovers, he won’t be in a position to listen to you for a while.’

  He turned. ‘You think I’m staying so that I can tell him the news? You think I’m that inhumane?’ The ferocity in his voice shocked her.

  ‘I assumed … Then why are you here?’

  Incredulous dark eyes swept her face. ‘Do you have any other family to support you?’

  He knew she didn’t. Her family wasn’t like his. Apart from her son, the sum total of her family was currently fighting for his life in the coronary care unit.

  ‘I don’t need support.’

  ‘The man you have lived with all your life is through those doors struggling to stay alive and you don’t need support? That is coping with hard times the Baracchi way. Or should I say the Fia way.’ He dragged his hand over the back of his neck and met her gaze. ‘Maybe that’s how you’ve dealt with them in the past but that isn’t how you’re going to deal with them in the future, be sure of that. I’m not leaving you here alone. From now on I’m by your side for all life’s major events—births, deaths, the graduation of our children. And for the minor events, too. That’s how we Ferraras conduct ourselves in a relationship. That’s how it’s going to be in our relationship, tesoro. Everything I said to you this morning still stands.’

  The word ‘relationship’ reminded her that if her grandfather lived, she still had to break the news to him. And if he didn’t—

  Her heart felt as if someone was twisting it.

  ‘You being here isn’t support, Santo. It’s adding to the stress because I know that you’re just waiting to pick your moment to tell him.’ Suddenly she needed to get away from him. From the width of those powerful shoulders and the sheer force of his presence. He’d made it his mission to eject her from the comfortable safe place she inhabited and she felt as vulnerable as a small animal chased from its burrow. ‘I need to check on Luca.’

  ‘He is still asleep. If he wasn’t, Luigi would have called me.’

  ‘He might not want to bother you.’

  ‘I would trust Luigi with my life.’

  Fia thought about how kind his head of security had been earlier. He’d had a job to do and he’d done it, but he’d done it with a sensitivity that had surprised her. ‘It’s not about trust. It’s about the fact Luca doesn’t know him. I don’t want him to wake up, find himself in a strange place and be scared.’

  Those eyes frowned into hers and he was about to answer when the door opened and the consultant walked in.

  Panic gripped her. ‘My grandfather—?’ Now that the moment had come she was almost too afraid to ask the question that had to be asked. As if by postponing it for a few seconds she could change reality. ‘Is he—?’

  ‘He had an occluded coronary artery. Without rapid treatment he would not be here now. It is without doubt your use of the AED that saved him in those first precious minutes.’ The consultant carried on, talking about heart muscle, clots and drugs, angioplasty and future risk factors but all she heard was that her grandfather was still alive. The rest washed over her in a wave of jargon she didn’t understand and didn’t want to understand.

  It was Santo who asked the relevant questions. Santo who discussed treatment options and truthfully she was grateful to him bec
ause once again her brain seemed to be working in slow motion.

  Eventually all the questions were answered and the consultant nodded. ‘He wants to see you. Normally I would refuse at this point because he needs rest but it’s clear that something is causing him stress. He is very agitated and he needs to be reassured.’

  ‘Of course.’ Fia flew to the door but the consultant stopped her.

  ‘It was Santo he asked for. He was quite specific about that. Your grandfather asked for Santo Ferrara.’

  Fia felt her knees shake and she glanced at Santo in horror. ‘No! Seeing you will upset him badly.’

  ‘He is already upset. Apparently there are things he needs to say,’ the consultant told them, ‘so I think it might be helpful for him. But keep it brief and keep any stress to a minimum.’

  Santo would tell him that Luca was his child.

  How was that keeping stress to a minimum?

  Apparently suffering from none of her doubts, Santo strode through the door. ‘Let’s do this.’

  She shot after him. ‘Please don’t.’ She kept her voice low. ‘Whatever you think of me, don’t do this. Please don’t tell him yet. Wait until he’s stronger.’ She almost stumbled as she tried to keep up with him, panicking madly, unable to see a single way that this encounter was going to have a happy ending. Why was her grandfather asking to see him? At this stage he couldn’t even know that it was Santo who had saved his life.

  Reluctantly, she walked into the room and caught her breath at the sight of the machines and wires that dominated her grandfather’s frail form.

  For a moment she couldn’t move and then she felt a warm strong hand close over hers and the reassuring squeeze of male fingers.

  Shocked, Fia stood for a moment, distracted by the novel experience of being comforted.

  And then she heard a sound from the bed and saw her grandfather’s eyes open. And she realised Santo’s touch wasn’t about comfort, but manipulation.

  Instantly she snatched her hand away. ‘Nonno—’ She tried to catch his eyes and reassure him but her grandfather wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at Santo.

  And Santo, being who he was, didn’t flinch or look remotely discomfited.

  ‘You gave us all a shock,’ he drawled, approaching the bed with a confidence that suggested he was a welcome visitor.

  ‘Ferrara—’ her grandfather’s voice was weak and shaky ‘—I want to know your intentions.’

  There was a long pulsing silence and Fia shot Santo a pleading glance, but he wasn’t looking at her. He dominated the room, the power of his athletic physique a cruel contrast to the fragility of the man in the bed.

  ‘I intend to be a father to my son.’

  Time stood still.

  She couldn’t believe he’d actually said that. ‘I don’t—’

  ‘About time!’ Her grandfather’s eyes burned fiercely in his pale face. ‘For years I have been waiting for you to do the right thing—not even allowed to mention your name in case she walked out—’ He glared at Fia and then coughed weakly. ‘What sort of a man makes a woman pregnant and then leaves her to cope alone?’

  ‘The sort of man who didn’t know,’ Santo replied in a cool tone, ‘but now intends to rectify that mistake.’

  Fia barely heard his response. She was staring at her grandfather.

  ‘What?’ He snapped the words. ‘You thought I didn’t know? Why do you think I was so angry with him?’

  She sank into the nearest chair. ‘Well, because—’

  ‘You thought it was because of a stupid piece of land. And because of your brother.’ Her grandfather closed his eyes, his face pale against the hospital sheets. ‘I don’t blame him for your brother. I was wrong about a lot of things. Wrong. There. I said it. Does that make you happy?’

  Fia’s heart clenched. A lump formed in her throat. ‘You shouldn’t be talking about this now. It isn’t the time.’

  ‘Always trying to smooth things over. Always wanting everyone to love each other and be friends. Keep an eye on her, Ferrara, or she’ll turn your son into a wimp.’ Her grandfather’s frame was racked by a paroxysm of coughing and Fia fumbled for the buzzer. Within moments the room filled with staff but he waved them away impatiently, his eyes still on Santo. ‘There’s one thing I want to know before they pump me full of more drugs that are going to dull my mind—’ his voice rasped ‘—I want to know what you’re going to do now that you know.’

  Santo didn’t hesitate. ‘I’m going to marry your granddaughter.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  HE HATED hospitals.

  Santo scrunched the flimsy plastic cup in his hand and dropped it into the bin.

  The smell of antiseptic reminded him of the night his father had died and just for a moment he was tempted to turn on his heel and walk right out again.

  And then he thought of Fia, keeping vigil over her grandfather, hour after hour. His anger was still running hot. He was furious with her. But he couldn’t accuse her of not showing loyalty to her family. And he couldn’t leave her alone in this place.

  Cursing softly, Santo strode back towards the coronary care unit that brought back nothing but bad memories.

  She was sitting by the bed, her hair a livid streak of fire against her ashen skin. Those green eyes were fixed on the old man as if by sheer willpower and focus she might somehow transmit some of her youth and energy to him.

  He’d never seen a lonelier figure in his life.

  Or perhaps he had, he thought grimly, remembering the first time he’d seen her in his boathouse. Some people automatically sought human company when they were upset. Fia had taught herself to survive alone.

  He compared that to his own big, noisy family. He knew from experience that had it been a Ferrara lying in the hospital bed the room would have been bulging with concerned relatives, not just his brother and sister but numerous aunts, uncles and cousins all clucking and fussing.

  ‘How’s he doing?’

  ‘They gave him a sedative and some other stuff. I don’t know what. They say the first twenty-four hours are crucial.’ Her slim fingers were curled around her grandfather’s. ‘If he wakes up now he’ll be angry that I’m holding his hand. He’s not great at the physical stuff. Never has been.’

  Santo realised that this woman’s whole life revolved around the man currently lying in the bed and the child fast asleep in his car.

  ‘When did you last eat?’ It was the automatic Ferrara response to all moments of crisis and he almost laughed at himself for being so predictable.

  ‘I’m not hungry.’ Her voice was husky and she didn’t shift her gaze from her grandfather. ‘In a minute I’ll go and check on Luca.’

  ‘I just checked him. He hasn’t stirred. He and Luigi are both asleep.’

  ‘I’ll bring him in here and tuck him up on the chair. Then you can go home. Gina will come and I need to call Ben and ask him to cover tomorrow.’

  Santo felt an irrational surge of anger. ‘He doesn’t need to. I’ve already sorted that out. My team will take over running the Beach Shack for the time being.’

  Her spine tensed. ‘You’re taking advantage of this situation to take over my business?’

  Santo held on to his own temper. ‘You need to stop thinking like a Baracchi. This is not about revenge. I’m not taking over your business, just making sure you still have one to come home to. I assumed you didn’t want to leave your grandfather’s bedside to cook calamari for a bunch of strangers.’

  Her cheeks were pale. ‘I’m sorry.’ Her gaze skated back to her grandfather. ‘I am grateful to you. I just assumed—’

  ‘Well, stop assuming.’ Her fragility unsettled him. And it wasn’t the only thing that unsettled him. The response of his body was equally disturbing. His feelings were entirely inappropriate for the surroundings. ‘You can do no more here tonight. Your grandfather is going to sleep and it’s not going to help anyone if you collapse. We’re leaving now. I’ve told the staff to call me if there is any
change.’

  ‘I can’t leave. It’s too far to get back here again if something happens.’

  ‘My apartment is only ten minutes from here. If something happens, I’ll drive you. If we leave now you can still get some rest and my son can wake up in a proper bed.’ He’d been trying not to think about that side of things, putting his own emotions on hold in order to maintain the delicate balance of a situation that could only be described as difficult.

  Perhaps it was the logic of his argument. Perhaps it was the words ‘my son’. Either way, she ceased arguing and allowed him to lead her away from the bedside to the car.

  Ten minutes later Luca was tucked up in the centre of an enormous double bed in one of his spare bedrooms.

  Santo watched as she spread pillows on the floor next to the bed. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Sometimes he rolls. I don’t want him to fall onto the tiled floor,’ she muttered. ‘Do you have a baby alarm?’

  ‘No. Leave the door open a crack. Then we’ll hear him if he wakes.’ Santo strode out of the room and she followed, her eyes tracing every detail of his apartment.

  ‘Do you live alone?’

  ‘You think I’m hiding women under the sofa?’

  ‘I just mean it’s very big for one person.’

  ‘I like the space and the views. The balconies face over the old part of the town, not that I think Luca will be that discerning. What can I get you to eat?’

  ‘Nothing, thank you.’ Restless and tense, she walked over to the doors that led to the balcony and opened them. ‘Don’t you keep these locked?’

  ‘You’re worrying about my security?’

  ‘I’m worrying about Luca’s security.’ Biting her lip, she stepped onto the small area and ran her finger along the iron railings. Then she gauged the height of the balcony. ‘This is a real hazard. Luca is two years old. His favourite pastime is climbing. He climbs anything and everything he can find. We’re going to have to lock the doors to the balconies and remove the keys.’ She was brisk and practical, but then she walked past him and he caught the scent of her hair. Flowers. She always smelt like flowers.