Jonas gave a mirthless smirk. “Cut me off from what? Haven’t you got it yet? I don’t want your money. I’ve always made my own way ever since I left college. Screw your damn money. Some things are more important.”
“Don’t be naïve, boy.” Fergus was dismissive. “Your love for Sofia was nothing more than a schoolboy crush. She was never your sister.”
Jonas had heard enough. “Only you would twist it to make it seem like that. Sofia was my family. Dad, I’m going to find her and make sure she’s okay. And then when I do, I’m going to tell the world what a shitty father you are.”
He left the house, knowing he would never go back there. He drove home to his tiny apartment in New York City. His girlfriend, Megan, a nurse at the local hospital, was working nights and so Jonas did what he always did when Megan wasn’t there to distract him: he brooded. He got out the only photo he had of him and Sofia together – taken on her graduation day. It was the last time they had all looked happy together. “Where are you?” He said to the photograph of her step-sister, but of course, no-one answered.
Sofia knew something was wrong when she woke under Stefan’s fruit stall. Her neck was stiff, enough that it was agony when she moved it, and her head screeched in pain. She stuck her hand on her forehead. Fuck. She was burning up. She gave a groan as she opened her eyes, and the bright light seared her retinas. Jesus. She’d never known pain like it. She checked the coast was clear and crawled out from underneath the stall.
“You look like hell, girl,” Stefan said, and he too stuck his hand on her forehead, wincing “Oh dear god. Hey, Philippe, would you watch my stall for ten minutes? I need to go get Sofia some pain relief.”
“Sure thing.”
Stefan supported her as they walked to the nearest pharmacy, Sofia still clutching her backpack. Stefan lowered her into a chair of a café across the street and ordered her some hot tea. “Is she okay?” The waitress looked alarmed.
“Migraine,” Sofia managed, thanking the gods that her clothes were somewhat clean and tidy. They’d never let her stay there if they knew she was homeless. Stefan slipped the girl some Euros. “Just watch her for a moment until I get some paracetamol, would you?”
The waitress nodded and sat down next to Sofia. “You really don’t look well. Let me get you some food, my treat. It’ll help the headache.”
Stefan was soon back and Sofia popped three tablets gratefully, rolling her neck, trying to ease the stiffness. The waitress brought them both some pastries and bread rolls, waving away Stefan’s offer to pay.
Sofia thanked them both, grateful for their kindness. The headache pounded away at her temples, and she felt sick, but the hot tea and food did make her feel a little better. Stefan looked at her with concerned eyes. “I really think we should get you to a doctor.”
She shook her head. “It’s just a bad headache, Stefan, really. These will help.” She held up the packets of tablets and smiled at him. “I don’t know why you do it but your kindness means everything to me. You are a true friend.”
He didn’t smile. “You’re slurring. Look,” he dug around in his pockets, “take this.” He handed her a key. “This is the key to my place. Go there, rest for a few hours. Elizabeth won’t be home until five so she need never know.”
Sofia shook her head. “I can’t, Stefan, you’ve done so much for me already. I’m not going to risk upsetting your wife. What if the neighbors saw me go in and out?”
Stefan hesitated, but he knew he was beaten. His wife was a formidable woman, whom Stefan was terrified of. Sofia thanked him again and persuaded him to go back to work. “I’ll just stay here until my head eases off.”
She waited until he had gone, then thanked her waitress and took off, stumbling down the street. She decided to go to Montmartre, hang out with the artists there. Maybe the bustle of tourists would distract her from the pain, and maybe she could sell some work, afford a cheap motel room for one night.
As she walked, she could feel her body start to reject the food she had eaten, the pain increasing, her neck and shoulders tightening until she had to rush to the side of the road and throw up. She heard the disgusted snorts of passers-by – no-one stopped to help her.
As she stood, wiping her mouth with a napkin she had taken from the café, she felt someone brush past her, and suddenly her back felt very light. “Hey!”
The thief who had taken her backpack ran and Sofia, her whole body screaming with pain, panic rising in her throat, took off after him. They ducked and weaved along the sidewalks and across roads and just as she was beginning to lose hope, the thief tripped and she caught up with him.
They had a tug-of-war between them, the backpack’s sturdy canvas holding up to the fight. “Let go, motherfucker!” Sofia screamed, tears of anger pain and panic streaming down her face. She kicked him in the balls, hard, and cursing loudly, he let go unexpectedly.
Sofia felt herself falling backwards, through space, as if in slow motion. Her head ricochet off something metallic, and she heard screams ring out, as she bounced off the hood of the car.
Overwhelming pain then, and she could smell blood. She came to rest on the cold, damp asphalt. Consciousness ebbed and flowed and then there were people crowding around. All Sofia could think of was she had to hold onto her bag. Her life was in that bag.
And the she saw him. The merman…no, that wasn’t right…where had she seen this angel-faced man, with the most beautiful green eyes? He was bending over her, telling her was sorry over and over again. Other people were talking now, talking about calling ambulances and soon it seemed she was being loaded into one. Angel-face was with her and she clutched his hand. “My bag, please, don’t let them take my bag.”
He squeezed her hand back. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m here, I’ve got it. I won’t leave you or it. Just let them take care of you…I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
Sofia felt some kind of relief as she let herself sink into the darkness and it was only as she passed the point of no return that she remembered where she had seen him.
The swimming pool. He was her merman.
Chapter Three
Ivo sat with his head in his hands and didn’t see Desiree walking down the hospital corridor. The police had just left, and now Ivo felt hollow. He felt his friend put her hand on his back and looked up.
“I hit a girl, with my car,” was all he said and Desiree looked distressed.
“Oh, Ivo. Is she okay?”
Ivo shook his head. “I don’t know, they haven’t come to find me yet. The police were in there with her but they won’t let me in to see her.”
Desiree nodded and looked around for a nurse. “Let me see what I can find out, darling. They might be more responsive to a woman. Go get yourself some coffee, and splash some water on your face.”
When he got back, Desiree was talking to the doctor. After a few minutes, she came back to him. “They say the injuries from the accident are not serious. She hit her head, but there’s no sign of brain damage. What’s concerning them is that she’s sick. They think it might be meningitis.”
“Oh, god, poor kid. I can’t believe this. Listen, I actually met her, last night at the swimming pool. We swam together. I mean, we didn’t talk or anything, but it felt like we…I sound crazy. When I saw it was her that I had hit…Jesus.”
Desi rubbed his back. “From what the doctor’s told me, you couldn’t have hit her at speed.”
He shook his head. “No, I was crawling along, Paris traffic. She was having some kind of physical fight and then she fell onto the hood of my car.” He rubbed his eyes. “And you say she’s sick?”
Desiree nodded. “In a bad way, apparently. She’s conscious, but rambling. They don’t know who she is and she won’t tell them her name. It worries me, because without insurance…”
“She doesn’t need to worry about that,” Ivo said immediately, and got up. “Doctor, can I have a word? About the patient…please, I want to cover all the costs.”
&nb
sp; The doctor peered at him over his glasses. “You realize it could run into hundreds of thousands of Euros, Mr.…?”
“Zacca. Ivo Zacca. And it doesn’t matter. All costs are to be billed to me. If the patient doesn’t want to say who she is, I’m sure she has a good reason.”
The doctor sighed. “It would help if we knew her medical history but…okay.”
“Can I see her?”
“She’s sedated at the moment, but…as she doesn’t have anyone else, I guess it wouldn’t hurt if you sat with her. I will need her permission though.”
“Of course.”
The doctor stepped into the girl’s room and a few moments later, he waved them in. Ivo felt irrationally nervous as he walked into the room. The girl’s skin was wan, almost yellow and she looked doped up to the eyeballs. Ivo smiled at her and pulled the chair up to her bed. Desiree stood back a little. Ivo took the girl’s hand hesitantly. The girl turned to look at him with deepest brown eyes he’d ever seen. Warm. Intelligent. Her hair, so black it was almost blue, fell in soft waves except for the places where it was matted with blood.
“Hey there…how are you feeling?”
She murmured something and Ivo frowned. “I didn’t get that, sweetheart, I’m sorry.”
“Merman,” Sofia said a little louder and Ivo laughed softly.
“That’s right…that’s where we met. I’m Ivo Zacca.”
“Sofia,” she said softly, opening her eyes fully now and looking at him. “I’m sorry I fell on your car. I didn’t mean to. He had my bag, he was stealing my bag…” Her eyes opened a little wider, alarmed. “Where is my bag? Where…” She gave a sigh of relief when Ivo held it up.
“Don’t worry about anything, Sofia, your bag is here. I haven’t looked inside, everything is as you left it.”
Desiree walked slowly to Sofia’s other side. “God, she’s so young.”
Sofia turned her head, fading fast now. “So pretty.” She said, staring up at Desiree who smiled at her.
“Damn right. Sweetheart, do you have any family we can contact?”
Sofia looked back at Ivo, her dark eyes huge, troubled as she shook her head, then groaned at the pain. Ivo and Desiree shared a worried look. “What about your home, darling? Is there anyone there, a roommate?”
“No home.”
Ivo felt his heart shatter. Oh, god, the poor kid. He stroked the back of his fingers down her face. “Can I get you anything, Sofia? Some water?”
“Head is burning,” she mumbled, and her eyes closed. Desiree patted Ivo’s shoulder.
“I’ll go get a cold compress for her head.”
Ivo nodded, not taking his eyes from Sofia. He pressed her little hand to his face. “I’m so sorry, Sofia.”
When Desiree had come back, and they had applied the cold compress to a sleeping Sofia’s forehead, Desi pulled Ivo out of the room. “I know what you’re thinking and I can see it in your eyes. You wanted to play the hero. That girl in there…she’s a street girl. She’s feral. Once she recovers, I’ll bet you any amount, she’ll take off – and probably take your wallet with her.”
Ivo shook his head. “She’s no street girl. Yes, she might live on the streets but it’s not somewhere she’s grown up. Did you see her fingernails, the condition of her hair? I bet you anything, it hasn’t been that long that she’s been homeless. And that accent – she’s American. Probably here illegally which is why she isn’t giving them any details. She has no-one, Desi. Don’t ask me to abandon her.”
Desiree sighed. She had known Ivo long enough to know he would give his last dollar to help someone else. And she wasn’t heartless…she could tell the girl in the hospital bed was in trouble. “Okay. Okay, Ivo, well here’s what we do. When she gets well, you can find her a cheap apartment and I’ll give her a job – off the books. That’s a gift for someone like her, and it’s not legal and we could get into trouble but what the hell.”
Ivo hugged her. “Thank you, Desi, you’re the best.”
She held him at arm’s length and studied him. “Don’t fall for her, Ivo. This isn’t a fairy tale.”
Ivo shifted. Sometimes Desiree could see into him too well. “I know. This isn’t that.”
“Good. Now, will you stay with her for the evening? I can bring some hot food for you both – the swill they serve in these places is not fit for human consumption.”
“You are the best,” he repeated and she smiled.
“You know it. Now, get back in there in case she wakes up. I’ll bring her some clothes – she looks about a size eight, right?”
Ivo shook his head. “I know nothing of these matters, Desi.”
She rolled her eyes and laughed. “I’ll see you later, Ivo.”
“Bye.”
He went back to Sofia’s side. She was sleeping now, her face more at peace. An i.v. of morphine was hooked up to her arm and he could see her thumb already tensed over the button even in her sleep. Another i.v. of antibiotics was pumping into her veins, healing her – Ivo hoped. He wondered if the receptionist at the pool knew anything about her, then decided that would be overstepping his boundaries. Sofia would tell him about herself if she wanted to – all that mattered was that she got well. She didn’t owe him anything.
Sofia woke two days later with a raging thirst and a head that felt blissfully free from pain. She blinked her eyes a couple of times, adjusting to the light, relieved that it did not hurt her eyes anymore. She breathed in and looked around. A man…the merman, she remembered, had laid his head on her bed and was sleeping, dark shadows under his eyes. Sofia saw his fingers were entwined with hers, and gingerly extracted them. She had fallen, she knew that, and she had felt so sick. Okay, so that explained the hospital bed but why was the merman here?
She studied him. His dark curls fell loose around his head, his skin was live, swarthy, his eyelashes thick and dark. His face was at once both boyish and masculine, his beautifully-shaped lips sensual. She risked stroking her fingers through his soft curls. He was wearing a loose soft cotton shirt, white, and through the thin material she could see the outline of his firm body. She traced a half-moon scar at the side of his eye with his finger and he murmured, shifting. Sofia froze, her fingers still on his skin. He opened his eyes. Ivo, that was his name. He sat up, dopey and out of it. He focused on her face, felt her touching it. He gently pressed her hand to his face with his own, then turned his head to lightly kiss her fingers. It felt nice.
“Good morning, Sofia.” God, his voice, deep and sexy and accented. “How are you feeling?”
She nodded, suddenly shy. “So much better, thank you. I remember you brought me in…I have you to thank for this?”
Ivo shook his head. “I hit you with my car – not deliberately, I assure you, and thankfully not seriously. But you were already sick, the doctor’s say. Meningitis. Hence the motherload of tubes in your arms.”
Sofia looked down and grimaced. Then she noticed she was wearing pristine white pajamas and looked at him a little shocked. He smiled, holding up his hands.
“Don’t worry, the nurses bathed and changed you, not me. I would never disrespect you like that.”
Sofia relaxed a little. His smile made her insides flip and turn with…what? What was this feeling? Ivo tapped a little button along the length of the tube.
“This is your morphine, if you hadn’t guessed. You can tap it when you’re in pain to get more morphine – up to a point, that is.” He grinned at her. “It’s the good stuff, don’t waste it.”
His smile was so infectious that she couldn’t help feeling at ease with him. He couldn’t be that much older than her, maybe six or seven years she guessed, and there was something familiar about him that she couldn’t place.
“I saw you at the swimming pool,” she began, shyly, then as he nodded, she went on. “We had that…we were swimming, together.”
Ivo smiled. “So, it wasn’t me imagining it?”
Sofia shook her head. “No. It’s funny, but it seemed such a na
tural thing to do. Your form is really good.”
“Thank you, yours too. Do you go there every night?”
She nodded. “Leonie, that’s the sweet receptionist, she lets me swim for free after ten p.m. I get to use the shower and wash my clothes…” She trailed off, feeling embarrassed. She didn’t want this lovely man to think badly of her – he might if she knew he was homeless.
Ivo didn’t react but nodded. “Sofia, you don’t have to tell me anything, but I may be able to help you if you do. You did tell me you had no family. The accent, American, yes?”
She nodded then panicked. “Oh, fuck…fuck…the hospital…they’ll send me back, Ivo, I can’t go back…”
“Ssh, ssh, it’s okay. They don’t know anything and they don’t need to. I’m covering your bills, so.”
“Oh, no, I cannot accept that, Ivo, you’ve been kind enough already.” Sofia felt close to tears. Ivo took her hand and gave her a grin.
“Yeah, I have – remember that time I hit you with my car? Real kind.” He rolled his eyes and chuckled, and she couldn’t help but laugh.
“Look, I will find a way to pay you back, I swear.” She sighed. “I seem to be saying that a lot lately. But please, Ivo, at least let me try.”
Ivo sighed. “Fine, but the first priority is to get well. Anything else is moot until you’re fit and well.”
Sofia laid her head back on the pillow and gazed at him. He really was heart-stoppingly gorgeous. “Who was that beautiful woman who was here? Or did I imagine her?”
Ivo grinned. “That’s Desiree. She’s been sitting with you too, although she does work, unlike me. At the moment, anyway.”
“What do you do when you are working?”
Ivo stroked a lock of hair back over her ear, then seemed to realize it might not be appropriate, and she saw two pink spots appear high on his cheeks. It made her heart clench – vulnerability on the face of this demi-god. He cleared his throat. “I’m an art dealer,” he said.
No freaking way. Sofia’s eyes darted to her backpack, sitting in the corner of the room. Had he peeked, seen her sketches? Was he playing her? Suddenly she felt a little sick. She covered her unease. “Sounds like fun.”
Nobody's Girl Page 3
