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‘Ella Battista…after mine,’ Sergio suggested.
The effects of stress, exhaustion and medication were steadily piling up on Kathy and making her eyes very heavy. Sergio went to check on Ella and came back to report on her progress before Kathy finally let herself fall asleep.
Nola Ross phoned the next morning and sent flowers. Bridget arrived and joined Kathy in the special care baby unit, where quite some time was spent admiring Ella with her silky fluff of coppery curls and fine features. ‘Are you annoyed with me for getting Sergio involved?’ Bridget asked worriedly, once Kathy had been conveyed back to her room and the two women had the privacy to talk.
Kathy was grateful to be distracted from her ever-present worry about her baby’s health. ‘Of course I’m not. But why didn’t you mention Sergio’s visit or Renzo’s?’
Bridget winced. ‘I knew it would stress you out if you realised that Sergio was making a big push to find you, and then things got really complicated…’
‘How?’
‘Don’t mention it to Sergio yet, but I’m dating Renzo.’
Kathy gave her a bemused look, and then she began to laugh. The brunette made Kathy smile with her story of how the middle-aged Italian’s regular visits to the café had led to a friendship that had warmed into something more serious.
‘I’d pretended I didn’t know where you were at first. Then I had to keep up the pretence because Renzo was too loyal to Sergio to be trusted with the truth—’
‘You should have told me.’
‘You had enough on your plate. To be fair to Sergio, the guy hasn’t stopped looking for you since you left London.’
‘Guilty conscience. I should’ve left him a note telling him not to worry and that I’d be fine,’ Kathy conceded wryly.
‘But the dramatic silence and the walk-out was much more your style, bellezza mia,’ Sergio interposed from the doorway. ‘Mrs Kirk…I hope Kathy has invited you to our wedding.’
The older woman’s eyes expanded like saucers. ‘What wedding?’ she exclaimed. ‘You two are planning to get married? That is wonderful news!’
‘I hadn’t got around to mentioning it yet.’ Beneath Sergio’s sardonic appraisal, Kathy squirmed and flushed. She had found it impossible to find the right words with which to make that announcement when deep down inside she felt as though agreeing to marry him was a betrayal of her principles and her pride. ‘It won’t be for ages yet anyway,’ she added. ‘I mean, we’ll have to wait until Ella’s strong enough to leave the baby unit and I’ve recovered from the Caesarean.’
In actuality, Ella finally gained her release from medical care only three days before her parents were due to marry and, by then, she was seven weeks old. The little girl had overcome the breathing problems caused by her under-developed lungs only to be diagnosed with anaemia. At one stage, a worrying infection had kept Kathy at the hospital with her daughter day and night. With a vast business empire demanding his attention, Sergio had been unable to be on the spot as often, but he had shared every crisis with Kathy and his daughter. It was Sergio’s strength that Kathy had learnt to rely on at the lowest moments. His courage in the face of adversity and his refusal to contemplate a negative outcome had grounded Kathy and given her hope when she had been most afraid for their child. Once the danger passed, however, Sergio had gone back abroad.
He had suggested that Kathy move into his apartment, but a suite in the quiet hotel across the road from the hospital had proved to be more convenient and she had seen no reason to move out before the wedding. That physical se
paration, allied to the need to concentrate solely on Ella’s problems, had created a polite distance between Sergio and Kathy. In addition, Sergio had been determined to keep the press from finding out about Ella and his marital plans before he chose to make an official announcement. As a result their meetings had acquired a level of discretion that had ensured that they invariably only saw each other at the hospital. And there they had been virtually never alone.
Although Sergio had belatedly attempted to break the stalemate, Kathy had made endless excuses about needing to stay with Ella or being too tired while she recovered from her op. Kathy was miserably convinced that all the secrecy was aimed at keeping her shameful past hidden for as long as possible. So, how could Sergio really want to risk being seen out with her in public? Wouldn’t it only hasten her exposure as a convicted thief? The paparazzi followed Sergio’s every move with intense interest. Kathy reckoned that about five minutes after she was revealed as the new Mrs Torrente her criminal record would be dug up and paraded in newsprint for all to see. The very thought of it made her feel sick with dread. But worst of all was the knowledge that Sergio would also feel that humiliation—and that some day her daughter would, as well.
In the background, the wedding arrangements had been handled by experts who worked in tandem with Sergio’s staff. Italy had been chosen as the ideal location and every detail had been kept under wraps. Kathy only had Bridget and Nola on her guest list, and her friends were over the moon at the prospect of a luxury weekend in the sunshine. The one item that Kathy had chosen for herself was her wedding gown.
Forty-eight hours before the wedding, the hotel reception called Kathy’s suite to inform her that Mr Torrente was on his way up to see her. Surprised because she had not expected to see Sergio before she flew out to Italy with her friends the next day, Kathy stopped packing Ella’s clothes and rushed to check her hair instead. She was astonished when she opened the door to a stranger, because the stringent security precautions Sergio insisted on meant that nobody she didn’t know should even get as far as the lift.
A portly man with receding hair and rather sad brown eyes smiled at her. ‘I’m Abramo Torrente, Sergio’s brother.’
‘My goodness…’ Kathy had the tact not to say that she had quite forgotten that her bridegroom even had a brother. ‘Please come in.’
‘You should check my credentials first.’ Abramo extended his passport as evidence of his identity. ‘You can’t be too careful nowadays.’
Certainly the brothers bore little resemblance to each other. Abramo looked more cuddly than sexy and, where Sergio was in the physical peak of condition the younger man had a grey indoor pallor. She had to strain her memory to recall that Sergio was the child of his father’s first marriage and Abramo the child of the second.
‘My brother hasn’t told you anything about me, has he?’
Abramo, Kathy registered, was shrewder than he seemed at first glance. ‘I’m afraid not.’
‘It’s eight years since Sergio spoke to me. He refuses to see me. He’s an old-world Torrente in the style of our late father—stubborn and hard as iron,’ Abramo commented heavily. ‘But we are still brothers.’
‘Eight years is a long time. It must have been some family feud.’
‘Sergio was the innocent victim of my mother’s lies,’ Abramo admitted ruefully. ‘My father favoured him and she resented that. I loved my brother but I envied him too. Once I saw how Sergio’s fall might give me a chance with Grazia, I was no better than my mother. I stood by and did nothing to help him regain what was rightfully his.’
