No!She sheared her mind away. She couldn’t bear to think of it—couldn’t bear to remember it.
Shame and humiliation flushed through her.
How could I let him do it? How could I?
Her mortification was absolute.
Memory leapt from the past, scalding in her head. That last morning with Luca, when he’d told her he was going back to Rome and she’d flung herself at him, clinging to him, desperate not to lose him, desperate to get him to take him with her…keep her in his life.
And he’d put her from him. Said what he had said to her. And she had stood there and taken it. Let him say it.
Just like last night, she had let him do what he had done…
Her face contorted again.
She hated herself—hated him. Herself more…
The knocking on the door became louder, finally piercing her burning, scalding consciousness. Confused, she called out for the person to come in, pushing herself up on the pillows.
It was Maria, looking, sounding agitated.
‘Mi dispiace, signorina.I am sorry for disturbing you. But the doctor has been summoned for thesignor.’
Bianca’s bleariness vanished. So did the tormenting memories of last night.
‘What’s happened?’ she demanded, fear sharpening her voice.
‘Thesignorhas not spent a good night,’ Maria said. ‘His nurse is concerned, and the doctor is attending.’
‘I’ll get up at once,’ Bianca said, alarm spearing in her. ‘Thank you for telling me. I shall be there as soon as possible—please let them know.’
Dismissed, Maria hurried off, and Bianca plunged into the en suite bathroom. Emerging after the sketchiest of showers, she dressed hurriedly and left her bedroom.
Oh, dear God, hadn’t last night been enough—and now this?
She saw Giuseppe hovering anxiously outside her uncle’s room.
‘What is happening?’ she asked fearfully, her heart beating faster with alarm.
‘The doctor is with your uncle now,signorina. Please, do not be too alarmed. His nurse would have summoned an ambulance, had it been a crisis, but as it is he wants the doctor to give his opinion and administer whatever help might be required.’
Another voice, deep and sharp, sounded from the far end of the spacious landing.
‘What’s going on?’
Bianca turned. Luca was striding towards them. Freshly shaven, hair still damp from showering, casually dressed in chinos and an open-necked shirt, he still looked just as devastating as he’d looked last night in his tuxedo. She gulped silently. For one hideous second she could not tear her eyes away as he approached. And suddenly it was not alarm that was making her heart beat faster—not alarm at all.
She made herself speak. Focus on what was important. Her uncle—only her uncle.
Not Luca! Not him—he’s not important at all! He’s not, not, not! So ignore him! Ignore the way he makes you feel…react. Just ignore it!
‘The doctor is with my uncle…’ Fear stabbed in her voice.
Giuseppe started to talk to Luca, deferential as always, and in Italian, but Bianca could hear the reassuring note in his voice.
Luca nodded, moved to enter Matteo’s bedroom. It opened before he could do so and the doctor emerged—familiar to Bianca from his weekly check-ups on her uncle. His expression was grave, but he had his bag with him, as though he were ready to depart, which surely, Bianca thought, must be a good sign?
His eyes went straight to her. ‘If I might have a word?’