The Villa

by Nora Roberts

  "I won't put another of mine in danger."

  "Nonna, if Donato was using an account to skim funds, he had help. My father. It's my blood," she continued in Italian, "as much as yours. My honor, as much as yours. You can't deny me my right to make amends." She took another breath, switched to English. "I'll leave tonight."

  "Hell." Tyler scowled. "We'll leave tonight."

  "I don't need a baby-sitter."

  "Yeah, right." He lifted his gaze now, met hers with chilled steel. "We've got an equal stake in this, Giambelli. You go, I go. I'll check out the vineyards, the winery," he said to Tereza. "If anything's off there, I'll spot it. I'll leave the paper trail to the paper pusher."

  So, Tereza thought as she looked at Eli across the room. The next step in the cycle. We pass the burdens to the young.

  "Agreed." Tereza ignored Sophia's hissing breath. "Your mother will worry less if you're not alone."

  "No, I'll just spread the worry out over two people. Mama, Gina and her children?"

  "They'll be provided for. I don't believe in the sins of the father." Tereza shifted her gaze to Sophia's, held it. "I believe in the child."

  The first thing David did when he was released from the hospital, or more accurately, when he released himself from the hospital, was buy flowers.

  When the first bouquet seemed inadequate, he bought another, then a third.

  It wasn't easy carrying a huge load of flowers, one arm in a sling, through the crowded streets of Venice, but he managed it. Just as he managed to find the spot where he'd been shot.

  He'd prepared himself for the jolt, but hadn't realized there'd be fury along with it. Someone had thought him dispensable, had pierced his flesh with steel, spilled his blood. And had come very close to making his children orphans.

  Someone, David promised himself as he stood on the stains of his own blood with his good arm full of flowers, was going to pay for thinking it. Whatever, and however long, it took.

  He glanced up. Though there was no wash hanging out today, the window was open. He shifted his flowers, turned away from the street and entered the building. It amazed him how exhausted he was after the climb. Limbs weak, skin slicked with sweat. It pissed him off to find himself gasping for air and leaning limply on the wall outside the apartment door.

  How the hell was he supposed to get back to the Giambelli apartment, pack, book a flight when he could barely make it up these stairs? The fact that the doctor had said essentially that before David had signed himself out only annoyed him.

  So much so that, still puffing, he straightened and knocked.

  He didn't expect her to be home, intended to leave the flowers on her doorstep or hunt up a cooperative neighbor who'd take them for her. But the door opened, and there she was.

  "Signorina."

  "Si?" She stared at him blankly, then her pretty face lit up. "Signore! Come sta? Oh, oh, che bellezza!" She gathered the flowers and gestured him in. "I called the hospital this morning," she continued in rapid Italian. "They said you were resting. I've been so frightened. I couldn't believe such a thing could happen right outside… Oh." She tapped her head with her hand. "You're American," she said in careful English. "Scusami. Sorry. I don't have good English."

  "I speak Italian. I wanted to thank you."

  "Me? I did nothing. Please come in, sit. You look so pale."

  "You were there." He glanced around her apartment. Small, simple, with pretty little touches. "If you hadn't been, and if I hadn't looked up because you were late bringing in your wash and made such a lovely picture doing it, I might not be standing here now. Signorina." He took her hand, lifted it to his lips. "Mille grazie."

  "Prego." She angled her head. "A romantic story. Come, I'll make you coffee."

  "You don't need to trouble."

  "Please, if I've saved your life, I have to tend to it." She carried the flowers to the kitchen.

  "Ah… one of the reasons I was walking by so late was that I'd done some shopping before dinner. I'd just bought a ring, an engagement ring for the woman I love."

  "Oh." She sighed, laid the flowers on the counter. She took another long look at him. "Pity for me. Lucky for her. I'll still make you coffee."

  "I could use some. Signorina, I don't know your name."

  "Elana."

  "Elana, I hope you'll take this as intended. I think you're the second most beautiful woman in the world."

  She laughed and began to fill a vase with his flowers. "Yes, very lucky for her."

  David was fed up with pain, fatigue, doctors and the pedestrian jumble that was Venice by the time he made it back to his rooms. He'd already come to the conclusion that he wouldn't be heading back home that evening. He'd be lucky to undress himself and get into bed, much less stay on his feet long enough to pack.

  His shoulder was screaming, his legs unsteady, and he cursed as he fought to work the key into the lock left-handed. Still that left hand came up, fisted to fight, when the door jerked open.

  "There you are!" Sophia jammed her hands on her hips. "Are you out of your mind? Checking yourself out of the hospital, wandering around Venice by yourself. Look at you, pale as a sheet. Men are such morons."

  "Thanks, thanks a lot. Mind if I come in? I think this is still my room."

  "Ty's out hunting for you right now." She took his good arm as she spoke and helped him inside. "We've been worried to death since we went by the hospital and found out you'd left, over doctor's orders."

  "Even in Italy they can't seem to make hospital food palatable." Giving in, he sank into a chair. "A man could starve to death in there. Besides, I wasn't expecting anyone this soon. What did you do, beam yourselves here?"

  "We left last night. I've been traveling a very long time, on very little sleep, and have spent entirely too long pacing these rooms worried about you. So don't mess with me." She uncapped a bottle, handed him a pill.

  "What is this?"

  "Pain medication. You left the hospital without your prescription."

  "Drugs. You brought me drugs. Will you marry me?"

  "Morons," she repeated, and stalked to the mini-fridge for a bottle of water. "David, where have you been?"

  "Taking a beautiful woman flowers." He sat back, reaching for the bottle, then sighing when Sophia jerked it out of reach. "Come on, don't tease a man about his Pharmaceuticals."

  "You've been with a woman?"

  "Having coffee," he said, "with the woman who saved my life. I took her some flowers to thank her."

  Considering, Sophia cocked her head. He looked exhausted, a little sweaty and very romantic with his arm in a sling and the shadows under those deep blue eyes.

  "I suppose that's all right. Is she pretty?"

  "I told her she was the second most beautiful woman in the world, but I'll happily bump her down to third place if you give me that damn water. Don't make me chew this pill, I'm begging you."

  She handed over the bottle, then crouched in front of him. "David, I'm so sorry about this."

  "Yeah, me too. The kids are okay, right?"

  "They're fine. Worried about you, but reassured enough that Theo's starting to think it's pretty cool that you got shot. Not everybody's father…"

  "Honey, don't do that to yourself."

  "I won't. I'm not." She drew a deep breath. "Anyway, Maddy was kidding about the bullet last night. She said something to you about keeping it? But she's into it now, according to my mother. Wants to study it."

  "That's my girl."

  "They're great kids, David. Probably comes from having a father who'd think of buying flowers for a woman when he felt like something recently scraped off the sidewalk. Come on, let's get you into bed."

  "That's what they all say." The slow, goofy grin he gave her told Sophia the medication was doing the job. "Your mother can't keep her hands off me."

  "Good drugs, huh?"

  "Really good. Maybe if I could lie down for a minute."

  "Sure. Why don't you try it on a large flat surfa
ce?" She levered him up.

  "Sophie? Pilar's not all twisted up about this, is she?"

  "Of course she is. But she'll get untwisted when you get home where she can fuss over you."

  "I'm okay, just a little fuzzy in the head now." He chuckled, leaning heavily on her as she led him to the bedroom. And would've sworn he was floating. "Better living through chemistry."

  "You bet. Almost there."

  "I wanna go home. How'm I gonna pack one-handed?"

  "Don't you worry. I'll pack for you."

  "You will? Really?" He turned his head to give her a kiss on the cheek and missed by three inches. "Thanks."

  "No problem. Here we go. All the way down. Easy. I don't want to hurt—Oh! I'm sorry," she said when he yelped.

  "No, it's not the arm. It's—in my pocket. The box. Rolled on it." He groped for it, swore and felt only mildly embarrassed when she reached in to retrieve it herself.

  "Buying baubles, are we?" She flipped the box open, blinked. "Oh my."

  "I guess I should tell you, I bought it for your mother. Gonna ask her to marry me." He pulled himself up a bit on the pillow and slid straight down again. "Got a problem with that?"

  "I might, seeing as you proposed to me five minutes ago, you fickle bastard." A little teary-eyed, she sat on the side of the bed. "It's beautiful, David. She'll love it. She loves you."

  "She's everything I've ever wanted. Beautiful, beautiful Pilar. Inside and out. Second chances all around. I'll be careful with her."

  "I know you will. I know it. The year's not half over," she said quietly. "Everything's moving so fast. But some things," she added, "some things are moving in the right direction." She leaned over, kissed his cheek. "Close your eyes for a while. Papa."

  When Tyler got back, she was making minestrone. It always knocked him back a step to see her working in the kitchen.

  "He's here," she said without looking around. "Sleeping."

  "I told you he could take care of himself."

  "Yes, he did a wonderful job of that by getting shot, didn't he? Stay away from that soup," she added as he leaned over the pot. "It's for David."

  "There's enough here for everybody."

  "It's not done yet. You should drive up to the vineyard. You can stay at the castello tonight. I'm having files messengered over. I can work on the computer here."

  "Well, you worked all that out, didn't you?"

  "We're not here to sightsee." She walked out of the kitchen.

  He took a moment to make sure his temper was on a leash, then followed her into the small office. "Why don't we just have this out?"

  "Nothing to have out, Ty. I've got a lot on my mind."

  "I know why you didn't want me to come."

  "Really?" She booted up the computer. "Could it be that I have a great deal of work to do in a short amount of time?"

  "It could be that you're pissed off, betrayed, hurt. Those things slice at you. And when you're hurt, you're vulnerable. Defenses go down. You're afraid I'll get too close. Don't want me too close, do you, Sophia?" He took her chin so that she had no choice but to look at him. "You never did."

  "I'd say we've been as close as it gets. And it was my idea."

  "Sex is easy. Stand up."

  "I'm busy, Ty, and just not in the mood for a quick office fuck."

  He hauled her up fast enough, violently enough, to upend her chair. "Don't try to boil everything down to that."

  Moving too fast, she thought again. Too many things with too much speed. If she wasn't at the wheel, how could she maintain the right direction?

  "I don't want any more than that. Anything else is too much trouble. I said I've got a lot on my mind. And you're hurting me."

  "I've never hurt you." He eased his grip. "Maybe that's part of the problem. You ever ask yourself why you end up with the kind of guy you usually end up with?"

  "No." She tossed her chin up.

  "Older guys. Slick guys. The kind who slide right out the door when you give them the boot. I'm not slick, Sophie, and I won't slide."

  "Then you'll just end up with rug burn on your ass."

  "Like hell." His smile was lethal as he lifted her onto her toes. "I don't slide, Sophie. I stick. You better take some time and think about that." He let her go, strode to the door. "I'll be back."

  Frowning after him, she rubbed her arms. Big son of a bitch had probably left bruises, she thought. "Don't rush on my account."

  She started to drop back down in the chair, changed her mind and kicked the desk. The petty gesture made her feel marginally better.

  Why didn't the man ever do what she expected him to do? She figured he'd make a show at the public relations deal, then slither away, bored brainless. But he'd stuck, and that thought made her kick the desk again.

  They'd acted on some pure, healthy animal lust, she thought and picked up the chair. Had some stupendous sex. She'd expected him to cool off in that area, too. But no.

  And what if it was true that she was a little worried because she didn't show any signs of cooling off, either? She was used to certain patterns in her life. Who wasn't? She'd never had any intention of developing serious feelings for Tyler MacMillan.

  God, it was infuriating to know she had.

  Worse, he'd been exactly and perfectly right in his rundown of her. She was pissed off, she did feel betrayed, she was feeling hurt and vulnerable and she wished Tyler was six thousand miles away in California. Because she wanted, so desperately, for him to be right here. Within easy leaning distance.

  She wasn't going to lean. Her family was a mess. The company she'd been raised to run was in trouble. And the man who would very likely become her stepfather was lying in the next room with a bullet hole in his shoulder.

  Wasn't that enough to worry about without thinking about her fear of commitment?

  Not that she had a fear of commitment. Exactly. And if she did, Sophia decided and sat down again, she'd just have to think about it later.

  He slept for two hours and woke feeling like a man who'd been shot, David supposed. But one who'd lived through it. Now that he was sitting up and being fed minestrone, he decided he could start thinking again.

  "You've got your color back," Sophia told him.

  "Most of my brain, too." Enough to realize she was playing with her soup rather than eating it. "Feel like filling me in?"

  "I can tell you what's been done, or what I know. I don't imagine I can fill in all the gaps. They're looking for Donato, not only the police but a private investigator hired by my grandparents. They've interviewed Gina. I'm told she's hysterical and claims not to know anything. I believe her. If she did know something, and Don dumped her and the kids in the middle of this mess, she'd scramble to make trouble for him. They haven't been able to identify the woman he's been seeing. If he's in love with her, as he told me, I imagine Don took her along for company, so to speak."

  "Rough on Gina."

  "Yeah." She pushed away from the table, tired of pretending to eat. "Yeah. I was mildly fond of Don. Could barely tolerate Gina and felt even less warmly toward her progeny. Now she's deserted by her cheating, stealing, possibly murderous husband. And… damn it, I can't feel for her. I just can't."

  "It's not impossible she pushed Don financially so he started to dip."