by Sarah Morgan
Nico looked at Carlo, his jaw tense. ‘At what point do you operate?’
Carlo smiled and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘She’s doing very well. I have no intention of operating.’
‘But?’
Carlo shook his head, his expression exasperated. ‘Have I ever told you that you make a very bad relative?’
Nico sucked in a breath and paced across the room. ‘You wait until you’re in this position.’
Zan felt a shaft of pain shoot through her. She didn’t want to think of Carlo having children with anyone but her. He’d be a great father.
Suddenly aware that he was looking at her with a keen expression on his face, she dropped her eyes and forced her attention back to the job at hand.
‘I can see the head,’ she said quietly. ‘The baby’s rotated well so you shouldn’t have any problems.’
She opened the delivery pack and got everything ready, then helped move Abby into a more comfortable position.
‘I want to go home now,’ Abby groaned. ‘I’ve had enough.’
Nico slipped an arm around Abby’s shoulders and looked at Zan. ‘How much longer?’
‘Not long, but babies tend to do things at their own pace.’
‘I don’t know how you do this every day.’ Nico ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. ‘I couldn’t stand the stress.’
‘The stress is because you’re the father,’ Carlo pointed out, his eyes flickering to the monitor to check on the baby’s heart-rate. ‘Believe me, it’s different when you’re the doctor.’
‘I never realised how helpless it feels to be the patient,’ Nico muttered, dragging both hands through his hair. ‘I’m never going to be unsympathetic again.’
‘You’re the most sympathetic doctor I know,’ Abby said, touching his face lovingly, her face drawn and tired from pushing. ‘And I love you.’
Nico gave a groan and bent to kiss her. ‘I love you too, tesoro. More than life.’
Envying their close relationship, Zan concentrated on delivering the head, aware that Carlo was watching her closely.
She was grateful that he was there. It was a far from straightforward delivery and if she had problems she had every confidence that he would be able to solve them.
She checked that the cord wasn’t around the neck and then waited for the next contraction to deliver the shoulders.
‘Little boy, Abby,’ she said gruffly, as the baby slithered into her hands. She lifted him onto Abby’s stomach.
‘A boy?’ Nico couldn’t hide his delight and Carlo gave him a hug.
‘Congratulations.’
* * *
An hour later Abby and the baby were washed and installed comfortably in bed, so Zan slipped up to the SCBU to look at Eddie.
Kelly was sitting by the side of a normal cot, gazing wistfully at the sleeping child.
Zan tiptoed up to her, delighted to see that Eddie was no longer in the intensive-care cot. ‘They’ve taken him out of the incubator?’
Kelly nodded. ‘Apparently he’s doing a lot better. His brain scan was normal and his breathing is good, although they’re still having to watch his sats, whatever that means.’
Zan smiled. ‘It’s medical-speak for the amount of oxygen in the blood.’
‘Oh, right.’ Kelly gave her a grateful smile. ‘And they’re still tube-feeding him, although we’re giving him a go at breast-feeding every time he has a feed.’
‘Well done.’
Zan turned to see Mike coming up behind them, his arms full of soft toys, a huge smile on his face.
‘How is he?’
‘He’s great.’ Kelly smiled at him and Zan was relieved and delighted to see them so happy together.
The death of Mike’s brother had obviously been the cause of many problems between the couple. It was fortunate that things with the baby had turned out so well.
She wished them goodnight and then glanced at her watch. Time to go back to Kim’s.
On the way past the nurses’ station she stopped and spoke to the sister.
‘Eddie is doing well.’
The sister nodded. ‘Unbelievably well.’ She gave a gentle smile and looked across at the couple who were bent over the cot. ‘Nice to have a happy story at Christmas.’
Zan walked back to the staffroom, pulled on her coat and made her way down the stairs to the front of the hospital. A huge Christmas tree dominated the foyer and she looked at it briefly, wondering why Christmas Eve seemed so long ago.
She was longing to go home, but as they still hadn’t caught the men who were threatening Carlo she wasn’t allowed to.
She slipped a hand into her pocket to check that she still had Kim’s keys safe and then pushed through the revolving doors and into the cold night air.
Lights exploded in her face and she blinked and lifted a hand to shield her eyes, trying to work out what was happening.
A group of people swarmed around her, most of them with cameras, some with recording equipment. There was a furious sound of camera shutters and blinding flashes and suddenly everyone seemed to be calling her name, jostling for her attention.
‘Miss Wilde?’
How did they know who she was?
Bemused by the attention, she backed away slightly but they closed in tightly, pelting her with questions before she could escape.
‘Is it true that you’re having a relationship with Carlo Santini?’
‘Did you see the men that broke into your flat?’
Zan looked round, desperate for some help, but there was no one around. How had this gaggle of press managed to congregate outside the hospital without anyone noticing?
One reporter, a small man with a nasty expression on his face, elbowed his way past the others. ‘Is it true that they’re after him because he let a baby die?’
Outrage exploded inside her. ‘Mr Santini is the best obstetrician I’ve ever worked with,’ she said, her voice shaking. ‘There are all sorts of reasons why babies are stillborn but I know that Carlo wasn’t responsible for that death.’
‘How long have you known him?’
The questions came all at once and she shook her head, looking for an escape.
Poor Carlo.
If this was the sort of hassle that he encountered then no wonder he found it hard to lead a normal life.
Another reporter wriggled to the front of the crowd. ‘Did you know that a woman in Italy has filed a paternity suit against Carlo?’
Zan froze.
Carlo had a child?
For a moment she felt numb, and then snatches of conversation came back to her.
The press print something different about me almost every day. Some of it is total fabrication, and some of it comes from people with a grudge.
And she remembered what he’d said to her the first night they’d met. No wife. No kids.
They might have heard the rumours but she knew Carlo well enough to know that he wouldn’t lie to her about that.
She lifted her chin. ‘Carlo Santini doesn’t have a child.’
They all started shouting questions and another journalist waved something under her nose. ‘Don’t you read newspapers? It’s been in the Italian press for months.’
‘I’m not interested in what you print in your newspapers,’ Zan said quietly. ‘I’m only interested in what Carlo tells me.’
She broke off as she realised what she’d just said. What Carlo tells me.
‘And you trust him?’ The journalist gave her an incredulous look and Zan smiled.
‘Oh, yes, I trust him. I trust him completely.’
It had just taken some wild accusations to make her realise the truth.
Abby was right. His name didn’t matter.
She’d spent time with the man himself and she knew him. Knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t guilty of what these people were accusing him of.
She didn’t need to hear him tell her because she loved him. She loved him with all her heart. And now she needed to
try and find him so that she could tell him to his face.
Hoping that he hadn’t left the hospital, she pushed through the pack of journalists and sprinted up the emergency stairs to the labour ward.
One of the midwives was sitting at the desk, sorting out notes.
Zan paused, flushed and breathless. ‘Has Carlo gone?’
Suddenly she was desperate to see him.
The midwife looked up, surprised. ‘Oh, there you are—I thought you’d gone. I had a call from him five minutes ago. He said to tell you that he’d see you at your flat.’
Zan frowned briefly. Surely he’d told her to stay away from her flat?
There’d obviously been a new development.
Relieved and excited, longing for the opportunity to tell him how much she loved him, she sprinted back down the stairs and took the back way out of the hospital to avoid the journalists.
* * *
Carlo gave his nephew a final cuddle and handed him back to Abby.
‘He’s totally beautiful.’
Abby beamed at him. ‘Time you had one of your own.’
Carlo’s mouth twisted. ‘I don’t get that lucky.’
Abby stretched out a hand. ‘She loves you, Carlo.’
‘Does she?’ Carlo’s expression was bleak and he glanced up with a frown as Nico flicked through a series of channels on the television. ‘Hold it!’ He snatched his hand away from Abby’s, his voice ragged. ‘Go back one!’
Nico did as he’d been instructed and all three of them watched in silence as the television cameras zoomed in close to Zan’s shocked face.
Carlo cursed under his breath as he saw her lift her arm as protection against the flash bulbs.
‘Where the hell did they come from? And where the hell were the security guys?’
‘Hush.’ Nico held up a hand and turned up the volume so that they could hear what was being said.
‘I’m not interested in what you print in your newspapers,’ Zan was saying quietly. ‘I’m only interested in what Carlo tells me.’
‘And you trust him?’ The journalist gave her an incredulous look and Zan smiled.
‘Oh, yes, I trust him. I trust him completely.’
Abby gave a womanly smile that bordered on the smug. ‘I told you so. I think it’s time that the pair of you had a conversation. Don’t let her go, Carlo.’
‘I don’t intend to.’ With a brief smile to his brother Carlo strode out of the room and hurried to the labour ward. ‘Where’s Zan?’
‘Oh!’ The midwife looked at him in surprise. ‘She was here a minute ago and I gave her your message.’
Carlo frowned. ‘What message?’
The midwife looked confused. ‘You called and left a message that she was to meet you at her flat.’
Carlo felt the blood drain from his face. ‘I didn’t call.’
‘But he sounded Italian and he used your name.’ The midwife looked distressed and Carlo shook his head.
‘It isn’t your fault.’ Carlo hit a key on his phone and called Matt, then turned back to the midwife. ‘Call the police and tell them to meet me at Zan’s flat.’
Without waiting for her answer, he sprinted along the corridor and down the stairs as if he was being chased by demons.
Someone had used his name to lure Zan to the flat and he knew exactly who it was.
And he knew that she was in danger.
* * *
Zan went up in the lift, thinking only of Carlo.
What should she say to him?
Was it really possible that they had a future together, despite the differences in their backgrounds?
The lift doors opened and she walked towards her flat, noticing that she had a brand-new door, which was standing half-open.
A light was shining inside, which must mean that Carlo was already there.
She paused on the threshold, slightly uncertain about how she’d feel once she was inside.
The last time she’d walked into her flat all her personal belongings had been strewn over the floor. She hadn’t really had time to think about the break-in. All she’d thought about was her relationship with Carlo.
Lifting a hand to touch the solid wood of her new door, she bit her lip. Would it still feel like a safe place to live? Would it still feel like home?
Of course it would.
Zan took a deep breath and pushed open the door, expecting to see Carlo standing in the living room.
It was empty.
‘Carlo?’
Her voice sounded tentative and she scolded herself silently. She was behaving like a real wimp.
‘Are you in the kitchen?’
She stepped further into the flat, noticing that the Christmas tree was back upright and the whole flat looked completely undisturbed.
She smiled slightly. Everything looked fine. Just like home.
And she didn’t feel strange.
She felt safe.
And then she heard the door slam behind her and knew that she wasn’t safe at all.
* * *
Carlo sprinted out of the hospital straight into the car that Matt had waiting. Journalists swarmed towards them but Matt slammed his foot on the accelerator and they scattered nervously.
‘She’s at the flat.’ Carlo’s voice was ragged and he flexed his fingers, preparing for a fight.
Matt kept his eyes on the road. ‘I lost her. She didn’t go where I expected her to. Fire me.’
‘It isn’t your fault. This whole situation has been too damned complicated.’ Carlo shifted in his seat, anxious to arrive. ‘Can’t you go any faster?’
Within minutes they shrieked to a halt outside the flats and Carlo was out of the car.
They took the stairs at a run and paused outside the flat to draw breath.
The door to Zan’s flat was shut and Carlo flung himself at it, intending to break it down.
‘Hold on.’ Matt grabbed him before his shoulder made contact and shoved him to one side, reaching into his pocket for a small implement. ‘We replaced it with a solid wood door, remember? You’ll put your shoulder out. I’ve got a better way.’
He did something to the lock and within seconds the door swung open.
Carlo stared at him. ‘How did you…?’
Matt gave a sheepish grin. ‘It’s what you pay me for.’
Carlo strode into the flat and stopped dead.
One man lay groaning on the floor. The other had an arm around Zan’s neck and a knife at her throat.
She looked at him with relief in her eyes. ‘What took you so long?’ Her voice was croaky. ‘I’ve used all my moves except the kissing one.’
‘Shut up.’ The man jerked his arm and Zan gave a cry of pain.
Matt growled angrily and took a step forward, but Carlo held up a hand to stop him. ‘No.’ He looked at the man, his gaze steady. ‘Drop the knife. Now.’
The man replied in Italian. ‘I’m going to kill her, Santini. You’re about to find out how it feels to lose someone you love.’
‘I know that you’re hurting,’ Carlo said, trying to keep his voice steady, ‘and I’m sorry about your baby. But this isn’t going to help. Let her go.’
‘You should have saved her.’ The man’s voice was hoarse and his arm tightened around Zan’s throat. ‘You should have saved my little girl.’
‘I’m flattered by your faith in me,’ Carlo said, taking a step forward, ‘but no one could have saved your child. It’s not always possible to find a reason for a stillborn child. Let her go and we can talk about it.’
‘Don’t come any closer!’ The man’s eyes were wild and Carlo paused, choosing his words carefully.
‘Where’s your wife, Signor Agnelli?’
The man breathed heavily. ‘At home with her mother.’
‘But the person she needs is you.’ Carlo held his gaze and moved another step closer, gesturing behind his back for Matt to move to the right. ‘She needs you with her. This is something you need to work through together for the
sake of the family and there are people who can help you.’
‘I shouldn’t need to work it through.’ The man’s voice was ragged. ‘I should have a healthy child.’
Carlo nodded, his eyes warm and sympathetic but watchful. So far Zan was being her usual brave self but he saw the fear in her eyes.
He also saw the trust and he felt his gut twist.
She was trusting him to sort it out.
His eyes narrowed slightly, measuring the distance. He still wasn’t close enough.
‘Everyone should have a healthy child,’ he said, taking another step forward, ‘but sadly that isn’t always the way. However skilled we become at medicine, there will always be unanswered questions. There will always be children who die.’
‘You could have saved my baby.’
‘No.’ Carlo shook his head and moved again, making a final gesture to Matt and praying that he’d understand.
He did.
Matt moved in from the right, providing a distraction, and in that split second Carlo plunged forward and grabbed the hand that held the knife, twisting it away from Zan’s throat.
The man snarled in anger and turned on Carlo, hurling his body towards him.
Thrusting Zan out of the way, Carlo sidestepped neatly, but the man regained his balance and came back again, this time aiming for Zan.
With a growl of fury Carlo stepped in front of him and punched him hard, wincing as pain exploded through his hand.
The man staggered slightly and Carlo grabbed him by the throat, powering him against the wall.
‘Don’t you ever threaten a member of my family again!’
Under the relentless pressure of Carlo’s fingers the man dropped the knife, his face contorted in pain.
Carlo’s muscles bunched as he held the man captive and he said something in Italian, his words making the man blanch.
Matt frowned and took a step forward, prepared to intervene, but Zan’s warning shout turned his attention to another threat.
The man on the floor was up on his feet and ready to defend his friend. Zan shouted another warning but Matt was already there.
‘I’ve got him.’ With no visible effort he lifted the man off his feet and half carried him to the wall. ‘Stand there and shut up. This has got nothing to do with you.’
