CHAPTER FOUR
‘YOUR sister has been conscious for a few hours now. We’re cautiously optimistic that she’s not going to lapse again.’
Alicia felt weak with relief. ‘And the baby?’
The ward sister nodded. ‘The baby is doing fine.’ She shook her head incredulously. ‘It’s a miracle really how it survived the impact of the crash but, as you know, this is only the first step. She’s going to need constant care to ensure its healthy progress. It’s such a relief that Paolo has managed to make the first appointment for Mel to see Dr Hardy in London in a couple of weeks. I was afraid it’d be too short notice.’
Alicia’s back tensed; she felt Dante straighten beside her. She struggled to interpret the words she’d just heard. ‘What are you talking about? Who is Paolo?’
Her friend gave her a funny look. ‘Why, Mel’s boyfriend, of course, silly. He arrived last night. He stayed in the chair beside her bed, absolutely besotted.’ She bustled towards the ward, guiding them in. ‘She’s still very weak, so maybe don’t make it a long visit today, OK?’
Alicia felt herself nod dumbly. She still couldn’t process the words. She was vaguely aware of Dante behind her, his hand moving to her back, propelling her forward. She moved, but didn’t know how. They were in a ward of four beds, the curtains pulled around her sister’s. Somehow instinctively Alicia just knew that everything was about to fall apart.
And when she pulled back the curtain she nearly fainted for the second time in two days.
‘Lissy…’ Melanie’s weakened voice was a thread of its normal chatty vitality but Alicia couldn’t even look at her yet. She couldn’t move. She stared in abject mounting horror at a younger, slightly less good looking, slightly smaller version of Dante D’Aquanni. She had to be so exhausted that she was hallucinating. That was it—extreme tiredness and stress… She raised a hand to her head.
‘Lissy? Are you OK?’
Finally she turned to look at her sister and blanched when she saw her still too pale face, one livid scar still across her forehead. But a hint of colour warmed her cheeks under the sickly pallor and the sight of her bump under the bedclothes was reassuring. Alicia nodded her head jerkily.
An autocratic hand propelled her towards a chair beside the bed. Melanie reached out a hand and took Alicia’s in hers. ‘What is it? The nurses said you’d been gone since yesterday… Where did you—’
Melanie broke off and looked from Alicia to Dante D’Aquanni, who she’d just noticed. Out of the corner of her eye, Alicia saw the younger man stand, bristling.
Melanie’s voice sounded strained and Alicia could see this man take her hand in support. ‘Mr D’Aquanni… What are you doing here?’
Dante stepped forward into the light and seemed to Alicia to energise the small space. ‘Your sister here seems to be under the misapprehension that I am the father of your unborn child.’ Alicia couldn’t be unaware of the way his glance flicked down to the bump of her sister’s belly, as if to confirm for himself that she had been telling the truth.
Melanie looked at Alicia. ‘How…what…however did you get that idea?’
Alicia fought valiantly against sinking into the ground into the comfort of another dead faint. She couldn’t look at Dante.
‘When I came here last week, you were feverish…I asked you who had done this to you and all you said was, “Dante D’Aquanni,” his was the only name you mentioned… You said you’d been on your way to see him. You asked me to find him for you…’
‘I did?’
Alicia smiled sadly. This wasn’t Melanie’s fault. ‘You probably don’t remember.’
Melanie groaned and glanced at the young man beside her shyly. ‘I had been on my way to see Mr D’Aquanni.’ She glanced at him then with a little trepidation. ‘But it was only to ask him to bring back Paolo…’
‘Paolo…’ Alicia repeated dumbly.
Dante spoke then, and Alicia flinched slightly at the harshness of his tone. ‘Paolo D’Aquanni—the man your sister was having an affair with at the office. My brother.’
His words seemed to come from far away. Alicia looked across at Paolo. ‘So you’re…’
Melanie squeezed her hand. ‘Yes, Lissy, he’s the one, the father of my baby.’
Distaste flavoured Dante’s mouth. His eyes raked over Melanie, taking in her undoubtedly weakened state. He had to admit that she couldn’t have faked the crash. She looked to be taller than Alicia; they shared the same colouring, but her eyes were blue, not a deep, dark chocolate brown. He ruthlessly drove down his awareness of the small woman beside the bed.