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‘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.
