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‘There’s no reason we couldn’t stay over.’
‘In Florence?’
‘Yes,’ he said, mentally flicking through his contacts. ‘We could stroll the Ponte Vecchio, have dinner on the other side of the river, looking out across at—’ He frowned as his phone vibrated in his pocket and the ringtone he’d assigned his sister cut through the sound of the wind whipping past the car.
‘Sorry, it’s Maria. I have to take this.’
He searched for the headset but couldn’t see it, immediate concern about the baby, about Maria firing in his blood enough for him to know it wasn’t safe for him to be driving. Before the call could ring off, he saw a layby and pulled into it, ignoring the arc of sand and pebbles thrown into the air as he hit the brakes.
‘Estás bien?’ he demanded down the phone, as he turned off the engine and launched from the car. He knew that his reaction might be seen as extreme, but he also knew Maria. Knew how much she’d valued and embraced her new-found freedom and knew more than anything that this wouldn’t be a social call.
‘Yes, I am,’ she replied calmly, as if having expected such a reaction. ‘And you need to hear that because I really am okay, despite what I’m going to tell you.’
Sebastian took a breath, her words really not doing anything to assuage the fear he was feeling for his sister.
‘I’ve left Matthieu.’
‘What happened?’ he growled.
‘It’s not important, but I wanted to tell you myself before you found out from someone else. I’ve already found a house in Umbria. It’s a two-hour drive away from you—’
‘I’m coming.’
‘I don’t want you to.’
‘I don’t care, I’m coming,’ he said mulishly.
‘Not if I don’t give you the address.’
‘Maria, we both know that I can find you in less than fifteen minutes if I want to,’ he said. Realistically he only needed ten, but it was a Sunday.
‘But you won’t, because you’re my brother and you will respect my wishes.’
‘I’m going to kill him,’ he promised through gritted teeth.
‘You won’t, even if I did consider letting you do it for just a minute. Because Matthieu is the father of my unborn child.’
‘Come home?’ he asked, knowing already that he was defeated.
‘Sebastian, that’s your home. It’s time I found one of my own.’
After another five minutes of assurances that she was okay, she signed off. ‘Te amo, hermano.’
‘Te amo, hermana,’ he concluded, before disconnecting the call.
He stared, unseeing, at the range of dusty green hills beside the road, his hand white-knuckled around the slim phone.
‘Are you okay?’ Sia asked.
‘No. And I won’t be remotely okay until I have found Montcour and beaten him into a pulp,’ he said, his anger finally taking hold, his tone harsh, his words yelled, and he cursed, throwing his phone on the ground in rage.
‘Is this something you do a lot?’ Sia asked from inside the car, her face turned to him, her eyes covered by sunglasses, her expression impassive.
‘Qué?’ he demanded, confused by her question.
‘Perhaps I don’t know you well enough to tell if this is your usual reaction to bad news, or if this is extreme. Either way, I can’t say I’m a fan.’
‘If you don’t like it—’ he said, the heated words coming out of his mouth before he could call them back.
