by Sarah Morgan
‘Is that so?’ She planted herself in front of Carlo, brushing away the tears that trickled down her cheek. ‘You knew me well enough to go to bed with me and say that you loved me, just not well enough to be honest and tell me who you really were.’
Carlo tensed. ‘Zan, listen, we—’
‘I don’t want to listen. I just want you to answer me something honestly.’ Her voice was hoarse as she interrupted him. ‘Clearly everyone knows who you are, and I suppose I should have recognised you, too. I’ve seen your picture often enough in those stupid glossy magazines. But I didn’t. And what I want to know is why a multimillionaire would be interested in me. What were you doing, Carlo? Slumming it?’ She stepped closer to him, her small fists clenched by her sides, her green eyes on fire. ‘Were you finding out how the other half live? Using me as a distraction for your brief spell in exile?’
‘Dio, it wasn’t like that.’ His words were heavily accented and she could tell that he was longing to break into Italian. ‘It’s true that it was a refreshing change, being with someone who didn’t know who I was, but that had nothing to do with our relationship.’
‘It had everything to do with it,’ she said flatly, the anger suddenly subsiding. In its place was a numbness that slowly worked its way through her whole body. ‘You could have told me who you were if you’d wanted to. But you didn’t trust me enough. I was good enough to sleep with, but not good enough to confide in.’
He frowned. ‘That isn’t true.’
‘Yes, it is. You didn’t trust me, did you, Carlo?’
He hesitated a fraction too long. ‘You have to understand something—’
‘I understand everything. Our whole relationship has been based on a lie, hasn’t it? So tell me one more thing.’ She tilted her head on one side, her green eyes challenging him. ‘Just how much money have you got, Carlo?’
He sucked in a breath. ‘Enough.’
‘Which, roughly translated, means that you’re loaded,’ she said. ‘That toy Ferrari I gave you this morning—you gave it a really odd look. You’ve got the grown-up version at home, haven’t you?’
He had the grace to look uncomfortable. ‘Yes, but—’
Half a million pounds’ worth of car.
‘And the earrings…’ A thought occurred to her and she stuck her hand in her pocket and removed them. She stared down at them, sparkling in her palm, a vivid and cruel reminder of what they’d shared only that morning. ‘Oh, my God…’
How could she have been so naïve?
She studied them, speechless. Then she thrust them into his hand.
‘They’re real, aren’t they?’
‘Yes.’ Carlo met her gaze head-on and she shook her head in disbelief.
‘You did the Lottery with me, you helped me plan how you’d spend the money, and all the time you’ve got more money than you know what to do with.’
‘Zan, you’re not making any sense.’ His tone held a hint of exasperation. ‘So I’ve got money. Why does that matter? You’re always planning how you’d spend money—well, now you can spend it.’
She shook her head, her expression incredulous. ‘You just don’t get it, do you? We laughed together, we shared things, but none of it was real. You lied to me. I don’t know who you are.’
His jaw tightened. ‘I’m the same man who made love to you last night.’
She lifted a hand and slapped him hard across the face, wounded by his blunt reminder.
‘And I hate you for that!’ Her voice rang with passion and she glared at him. ‘And I don’t want your babies any more—and if you’d married someone else I would have punched her on the nose, but now she can have you!!’
With that she turned on her heel and made for the stairs, ignoring the lift which was still standing open.
* * *
She’d wanted to have his babies?
Carlo blinked, trying to make sense of her tumbled speech. Punched who on the nose? Who was she saying could have him?
He was still pondering the answer as he sprinted after her, with Matt close behind. ‘Zan, wait!’
He heard her footsteps clattering on the stairs as she fled from him and cursed fluently under his breath.
He didn’t want her out there alone.
Finally they reached street level and he slammed through the doors and stared around, looking for her.
Everything was quiet. She’d vanished.
Carlo whirled around and paced up to Matt. ‘We’ve got to find her,’ he growled ominously. ‘Before they do.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘LET me get this straight.’ Kim reached for a second box of tissues. ‘You found out that he’s a millionaire—no, sorry, a multimillionaire—and you slapped his face and walked away from him?’
Sitting cross-legged on the bed, Zan helped herself to a bunch of tissues and blew her nose hard. ‘Basically, yes.’
‘Right.’ Kim gave her a look of total incomprehension. ‘But you love the guy, yes?’
‘Yes. No. I don’t know any more.’ Zan’s eyes filled again and Kim gave a sigh.
‘You love him. I recognise the signs. And frankly I’m missing something here. You love him, you slept with him, but now you’ve found out he’s rich you’re walking away from him.’ She pulled a face. ‘Sorry, but it doesn’t make sense.’
‘It isn’t the money,’ Zan sniffed. ‘It’s because he lied to me. He didn’t tell me who he really was.’
Kim spread her hands. ‘Well, the guy was obviously in a spot of bother.’
A spot of bother.
Zan remembered the police, the guns and the mess in her flat.
‘I think he was in more than a spot.’
‘Well, then, you can hardly blame him for keeping his identity a secret,’ Kim reasoned. ‘He had a bunch of thugs after him.’
‘He should have told me.’ Zan blew her nose again and settled herself more comfortably on the bed. ‘I feel totally humiliated. As though I slept with a stranger.’
‘Well, you did in a way. But that’s OK,’ Kim added hastily. ‘I mean, you liked him. A lot. More than you’ve ever liked a man before.’
‘That was when I thought he was a normal person.’
‘He is a normal person.’
Zan shook her head. ‘He’s super-rich, Kim. Bodyguards, private planes, homes around the world. Where do I fit into all that?’ She jettisoned the tissues and stood up, padding over to the mirror. ‘You’ve seen the magazines. The guy dates models and actresses. What’s he doing with me?’
She stared gloomily at her blotched reflection and Kim sighed.
‘Well, when you’re not howling you don’t look too bad. He was having a good time. Zan, you’re gorgeous. You just don’t see it yourself and you never have.’
Zan shook her head. ‘The truth is, he was with me because it was a refreshing change to be with someone who didn’t know who he was.’
Kim shrugged. ‘Well what’s wrong with that? It must be pretty tough, being a multimillionaire. How can you trust anyone’s motives? At least he knew you wanted to be with him for himself.’
‘But what about me? Didn’t he think about me? He should have told me.’
‘Yes, well, maybe he should,’ Kim conceded, ‘but look on the bright side. You’ve got a very rich boyfriend. At the very least you should get some decent Christmas presents.’
Zan sniffed. ‘He gave me diamond earrings.’
‘Really?’ Kim’s eyes widened and she gave a slow smile of approval. ‘Good for him.’
‘I gave them back.’
Kim stared at her in disbelief. ‘Are you mad?’
‘No.’ Zan looked at her, trying to make her understand. ‘He let me believe they were fake, just like he let me believe that what we had together meant something. Once I found that the earrings were real I couldn’t keep them. They were part of the deception.’
‘You gave diamond earrings back because they weren’t fake?’ Kim stared at her in obvious confusion. ‘You’re a
disgrace to women. And you’re making no sense whatsoever.’
Zan struggled to explain. ‘I thought I knew what they were but then they turned out to be something different. Like Carlo.’
‘I wish I could say that I understand,’ Kim muttered, lifting a hand and scratching her head. ‘But, frankly, I don’t.’
Zan took a deep breath, her expression bleak. ‘I don’t know who he is.’
Kim stood up and gave her a hug. ‘Of course you do. The money doesn’t change anything.’
‘It changes everything,’ Zan said flatly, pulling away from her and walking across the room. ‘Can’t you see that? He isn’t the man he pretended to be. His lifestyle is totally different. He’s only here for a short time and once they’ve caught the idiots who are threatening him he’ll be back in Italy, running his exclusive clinic and jetting between his different homes. I was just a temporary distraction and I was a fool to have trusted him.’
‘Whoa!’ Kim held up a hand. ‘You’re making lots of assumptions here. Have you tried discussing this with him?’
‘Only long enough for me to make a total fool of myself in front of half the police force.’ Zan turned and walked back again. ‘I told him I didn’t want his babies, that I wouldn’t punch the woman who married him on the nose and to finish it all off I’ve probably blacked his other eye.’
‘Really?’ Kim looked intrigued. ‘Did the police arrest you for bodily harm?’
Zan gave a groan and lifted a hand to her aching head. ‘Don’t even joke about it. I was angry. He lied to me!’
‘Don’t worry about the punch. Men love a feisty woman,’ Kim assured her, frowning as Zan turned and walked again.
‘Can you stop pacing for a moment?’ She glared at her in exasperation. ‘You’re wearing out a perfectly good carpet.’
‘Pacing helps me to think.’
Kim sighed. ‘OK, so what happens next?’
Zan paced again. ‘I redecorate my flat and get on with my life. And next time try not to be so gullible.’
Kim looked doubtful. ‘You think he’ll leave it at that?’
‘Of course he will.’
‘I wouldn’t be so sure. He’s a pretty confident guy,’ Kim said. ‘He’s going to go after what he wants.’
‘But he didn’t want me,’ Zan said in a choked voice. ‘Not really. I was just a novelty. Someone who didn’t know who he was.’
But now she knew the truth.
Their whole relationship had been false.
* * *
Zan awoke on Boxing Day with a terrible headache and a hollow feeling in her stomach. Nursing a cup of coffee in Kim’s sitting room, it seemed as if the Christmas decorations had somehow lost their sparkle.
Like her life.
She’d never experienced such extremes of emotion in such a short space of time. She’d gone from being ecstatically happy to utterly miserable in less time than it took to say ‘mistletoe’.
Deciding that the only way forward was to just get on with her life, she borrowed one of Kim’s uniforms and went to work with her head held high.
She wasn’t going to cry.
Fortunately no one but Kim knew about her relationship with Carlo, so there wouldn’t be any pitying glances.
There was no clinic because it was Boxing Day, so she was sent to work on the labour ward, which was frantically busy.
‘Can someone go out and look for a warm stable?’ one of the midwives quipped. ‘There’s no more room at the hospital.’
‘I feel sorry for all these babies born at Christmas,’ Kim said as she fixed her antlers in place for the second day running. ‘Imagine—they’re facing a lifetime of joint presents. Talk about cruel.’
Despite her smile, Kim was looking tired and worried, and every now and then she gave Zan a searching look, checking that she was OK.
Zan tried to smile back, telling herself not to be so pathetic.
A week ago she hadn’t even met Carlo and she’d been happy enough then. Surely it wouldn’t take long to get back to normal?
But a week ago she hadn’t been in love.
The sister in charge took her to one side. ‘There’s a patient in Room 3 who’s requesting that you take care of her. She wasn’t registered with us, so I suppose she must be a friend or something.’
Zan frowned. She didn’t have any pregnant friends.
‘Her name is Abby Santini. Ring any bells?’
Zan sucked in a breath. A relative of Carlo’s? But why would she be asking for her?
‘Her husband is a top paediatric cardiac surgeon,’ the sister told her. ‘He actually worked here for a short while and I remember him vaguely. Scarily brilliant and doesn’t suffer fools—you know the type.’
My brother is a doctor.
Zan racked her brains to remember what Carlo had told her about his family and didn’t come up with much.
He’d hardly told her anything, she realised dully. He’d managed to dodge most of her questions and she really knew next to nothing about him.
‘I don’t know them.’
The sister frowned slightly. ‘Well, they asked for you by name, and they need someone good, so unless you’ve got a problem with it you can be their midwife.’
She had a big problem.
Spending a day with Carlo’s family wasn’t part of her rehabilitation. And if his brother’s wife was in the unit then that must mean that Carlo would turn up at some point, and when that happened she didn’t want to be near the place.
Reminding herself never to go off with strangers again, she walked down the corridor, tapped on the door of Room 3 and walked in, determined to persuade them to choose another midwife.
A broad-shouldered man had his arm round a very pretty young blonde woman who was gasping in pain.
Zan frowned, forgetting her problems for a moment as she hurried across to her. ‘Is it bad?’
‘Terrible.’ The young woman could hardly speak, her eyes closed in agony.
‘Breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth—slowly,’ Zan instructed. ‘That’s better. And again…’
She helped Abby with her breathing until the contraction had ended and then moved her across to the bed.
‘Slip your shoes off and pop up on there. I’ll need to examine you and then we’ll have a conversation about pain relief.’
Abby caught her breath and then looked at her curiously. ‘Are you Zan?’
Zan reached for the blood-pressure cuff and nodded, trying not to look at the dark-haired man hovering next to them. He was breathtakingly handsome.
And he looked like Carlo.
‘I’m Abby.’ The young woman gave her a friendly smile. ‘We’ve heard lots about you—Carlo said you’re the best midwife he’s ever worked with. This is my husband, Nico.’
‘Nice to meet you.’ Zan felt a lump building in her throat and concentrated on taking her patient’s blood pressure.
‘That’s fine.’ She removed the stethoscope from her ears and sat down on the bed with a blank set of notes. ‘You’re not booked in with us so I don’t know your medical history.’
Abby smiled. ‘I’m booked at Carlo’s clinic in Milan, but then he had to come here so I followed him. I’ve been staying in London for the past few weeks. I wanted him nearby when I delivered.’
She obviously thought that Carlo walked on water.
Zan tried to smile. ‘So…’ The words stuck in her throat. ‘Does Carlo know you’re here?’
‘Of course.’ It was his brother who spoke this time, his English perfect. ‘He’s joining us shortly.’
And at that moment the door opened and Carlo strode in, his face strained.
‘Ciao, bella.’ He embraced Abby and his brother and proceeded to conduct a conversation in rapid Italian while Zan tried not to look at him.
That one quick glance when he’d walked through the door had been more than enough to remind her of why she’d behaved so recklessly.
He was stunningly good-looking and h
ad an air of calm authority that transmitted itself to those around him. No wonder she’d fallen so hard. What woman wouldn’t? What she needed to know was how she was going to get up again.
Finally he ended the conversation and gave Abby a reassuring smile. ‘It will be fine, angelo. Trust me.’
Unable to stand any more, Zan gritted her teeth and left the room to fetch the CTG machine that would measure Abby’s contractions and the baby’s heart-rate.
Trust him.
She’d done that once and look where it had led her.
Carlo followed her out of the room and walked purposefully across to where she was standing.
She tensed, painfully conscious of his close proximity.
‘Her blood pressure is fine,’ she said formally. ‘I haven’t examined her yet, but I’m going to do that next. She seems to be having quite strong contractions so I need to talk to her about pain relief and—’
‘Zan,’ he interrupted her, his voice low. ‘Abby can wait for one more minute. We need to talk about last night.’
Zan froze and her fingers tightened on the machine.
‘No, we don’t.’ She took several breaths and then lifted her chin. ‘Frankly, I didn’t even expect you to be at work. I assumed you would have gone back to your old life. Tell me, what name are you using today? Santini or Bennett?’
He flinched visibly and muttered something under his breath. ‘I asked you to trust me, Zan. I would have told you who I was. I would have explained everything if you hadn’t run away.’
Easy enough to say that now.
‘So, did they catch them?’
He shook his head, his dark eyes weary. ‘Not yet. Which is another thing we need to talk about. The police don’t think you should return to your flat for the time being. It isn’t safe. I want you to come and stay at my apartment.’
No way. It would be torture.
‘I’ve found my own accommodation.’
‘With Kim.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Are you still having me followed?’
He nodded. ‘And don’t expect me to apologise for it. I put you in danger, the least I can do now is keep you safe. I’m just sorry it ruined your Christmas.’
