The Tuscan's Revenge Wedding (Italian Billionaires #1)(4)

“He would, of course,” she whispered with a small nod before looking down at the glass in their clasped hands.

“It would have been more to the point if he had not driven off the road in the first place.”

“Yes.”

A warm tear splashed on his hand that still steadied the brandy glass. She was crying without sound, the wetness sliding over her cheekbones to drip into her lap.

Nico felt something twist inside him at the sign of her silent pain. What was this ache he felt in return, this compelling need, yet again, to give her the comfort of his arms? Surely it was no more than his ingrained habit of offering consolation and protection, though usually to women of his family?

She was not a family member. He must use other methods of stemming the flow.

“Your brother,” he said deliberately, “has been cited for reckless driving. He will face more serious charges if Carita — that is, if my sister fails to live.”

“What?” Her tear-drenched eyes widened with a different kind of shock. She shifted away from him on the sofa, removing her hands from his grasp. Reaching out, she set the brandy glass on the side table with a sharp click.

“You would expect nothing else, surely.”

“Jonathan may drive a little fast at times, but he isn’t reckless! He learned to handle a car almost before he could walk, has been on the racing circuit for years. He has excellent timing and reflexes.”

“Skills that perhaps led to overconfidence.”

“He would never endanger a passenger. I’ve ridden with him many times. He’s far better than average at avoiding accidents.”

Nico lifted a brow. “Yet he crashed, and my sister now hovers between life and death.”

The light from the window slid over her hair in silvery-gold gleams as she shook her head. “Something must have gone wrong, wet weather or another vehicle he swerved to miss.”

“The police reported nothing of that nature.” The heat in her gray eyes now was enough to dry a river of tears, Nico noted with satisfaction.

“I know my brother,” she insisted. “He is extremely careful behind the wheel.”

“You believe I would mislead you?”

She looked away, gripping her hands together in her lap as her face clouded. “No, I just—”

“Bene. Let it pass. You will fly with me now to Florence. We can be at the hospital in a matter of hours.”

Her chin came up and wariness returned to her eyes. “There’s no need for that. I’ll go to Jonathan as soon as possible, tomorrow at the latest, but have things that must be done first.”

“Time is of first importance,” he said with hard precision. “It will be better to go at once.”

“But I have a job, an apartment to be looked after.”

“A leave of absence has been approved for you. An agency that monitors apartments while tenants are away has been contacted, and will send someone to water your plants and retrieve your mail. If you like, I can have your clothing packed and sent after us, though it would be more practical to buy a few things after you arrive.”

She sprang to her feet. “You went to where I work?”

“Naturally,” he answered as he stood as well, facing her in the gray dimness of the room. “Your employer was most understanding. The receptionist was kind enough to tell me where you normally lunch when both understood why I had to speak to you.”

“You know where I live, that I have plants?” Her voice climbed an octave. “You went into my apartment?”

“By no means,” he answered with an impatient gesture.

“But how can you—”

“The details were handled by my personal assistant. An investigating firm was called in as all I had was your name and city. They located your employer, discovered your address, and interviewed the superintendent of your building.”

“Just like that.”

Her voice held remnants of anger, but also a trace of bewilderment. Hearing it, he gentled his tone. “Come, this is getting us nowhere. I have a car and driver downstairs. We will stop at your apartment long enough to collect your passport and other personal belongings, but must be at the airport within the hour. Our window for takeoff is narrow and may be altered by the rain.”

“You can’t just arrange my life as you please.”

“It’s done,” he said with finality.

She searched his face for long seconds while a pucker of suspicion lingered between her brows. “Why are you doing this? Why are you going to so much trouble to take me to Italy?”

“Not for the purpose you seem to think,” he answered, while heat kindled in his veins at the idea. “To meet you was Carita’s dearest wish as she hoped to be a sister to you one day, the last words she said to nonna, our grandmother, on the morning of the accident. Nonna is no longer young and has great faith in portents. She asked that I find you, and will be greatly relieved to know you are on this return flight.” That he also wished to meet Jonathan Davies’s sister was not pertinent, nor was the fact that this fast journey gave him something to do other than prowl hospital corridors while Carita lay comatose in Critical Care.

Her features smoothed a degree, but she still shook her head, opened her lips to speak.

He responded to that negative movement before she could make a sound. “I also assumed you would wish to be with your brother. You are, so I am told, his only family, just as he is yours. If I am wrong, if you don’t want to be with him as soon as possible, you have only to say so.”