Except it wasn’t Calum calling. It was Caterina.
“Ella,” her sister said. “You have to come. Papa’s had a heart attack.”
Laurella ran into the departures hall at JFK. She headed straight for the Air France desk to pick up her ticket. She’d had to pay a small fortune for a business-class fare, but none of the other airlines had seats until the following day.
There was a short line in front of her. She checked her watch. The flight left in an hour. She’d be cutting it close, considering the heavy security she’d need to navigate.
“Excuse me,” she said to the lady at the front of the line. “My flight leaves in an hour. I only need to pick up my ticket. I wonder if I might go first.”
“Shouldn’t have left it so late,” came the reply as the woman turned her back and began talking to the ticketing agent once more.
Tears welled up behind her eyes, and a sob caught in her throat. “My father had a heart attack.” She pushed her ID and reference number across the desk. “Please. Get me my ticket.”
The woman had the grace to blush. “Sorry. Of course you can cut in.”
Clutching her ticket tightly between her fingers, she ran toward security. By the time she reached her boarding gate, the area was empty. She thrust her ticket and passport at the gate agent, who tutted but at least let her board the flight.
She collapsed into her seat, waving away the offer of a glass of champagne before takeoff. And then it occurred to her that she hadn’t told Calum or Zane where she was going. Shit. She’d been so panicked after Caterina’s call that she’d thrown some things into a bag and jumped straight into a cab.
Taking the coward’s way out, she switched off her cell and dropped it into her purse. As soon as she landed, she’d text Zane and let him break the news to Calum, because she simply couldn’t bear to. At least the distance would give her some time to work out how on earth she should deal with Alberto Vorino.
Chapter 23
Calum exited the elevator on Laurella’s floor. He strode down the hallway and knocked on her door. He’d done as she’d asked—given her space. But after three hours had passed without her contacting him, and when he hadn’t been able to find her at work, he figured she’d gone home.
He knocked again. No answer.
“Laurella,” he called out. “Open the door. We need to talk.”
Silence.
“Laurella,” he said again, his voice rising in volume, partly through annoyance and partly in case she was in another part of the apartment and couldn’t hear him.
Still no answer.
He pounded hard with his fists. “Open the fucking door!”
When she still didn’t answer, he removed a multi-tool device from his pocket. She’d given him no choice. Picking locks was something he’d been expert at in his younger years. He’d given it up a long time ago, and although he was seriously overstepping the mark—not to mention breaking the law—something was niggling at the back of his mind. He’d apologize later, and if she wanted to press charges for breaking and entering, he’d take whatever punishment came his way.
It didn’t take long before the lock clicked. Pushing open the door, he called her name again. He slipped inside and quickly scanned around, poking his head inside her bedroom. The apartment was definitely empty.
Where the hell are you?
He was about to leave when a piece of paper lying on an occasional table caught his eye. He picked it up. Written in Laurella’s neat handwriting was what appeared to be a flight number, followed by a time. He grabbed his cell and punched the letters and numbers into Google. The results returned immediately. Fuck! He checked his watch. Goddamn it, Laurella. The flight had already left for Italy. She’d run. She’d panicked over whatever the hell had gone on between her and Alberto Vorino and shot back home. Away from him. Without saying a fucking word.
He would not allow her to run away from this issue or from him. She was going to tell him what was going on in that beautiful mind of hers whether she damn well wanted to or not.
He closed up, making a mental note to talk to Cole about getting her some decent locks, because he’d broken in far too easily.
Calum didn’t even knock on Zane’s door, just launched straight inside. Fortunately, Zane was alone.
“Come in, why don’t you?” he said with a sarcastic grin.
“I need Laurella’s address.”
Zane snorted. “Have you had a lobotomy? You spend every spare minute at her place.”
“Her address in Italy.”
Zane frowned. “Why would you need that? What’s going on?”
“We had the meeting with Brad. He brought along the colleague he wants Laurella to work with, a guy named Alberto Vorino.”
Zane nodded. “I know. Vorino’s got a fantastic reputation as a branding expert. It’ll be a good partnership between the two of them.”
“You’re not aware of their history?”
“What history?”
Calum updated him on what he’d heard, how the word on the street was that Laurella had basically stolen Vorino’s job and then had him removed from the company. He ended by briefing Zane on how the meeting had gone and how weird Laurella had been the entire time.
“Fucking marvelous,” Zane said. “This could ruin the whole deal.”
“There’s more to this, though,” Calum said. “My radar is firing like crazy. Something’s off. And I’m even more convinced after what I found at Laurella’s apartment.” He pushed the piece of paper across Zane’s desk.
Zane read it, his frown deepening. “This looks like a flight number.”
“It is. I’m guessing that Laurella is already on that flight to Italy.”
“Fuck!” Zane slammed his fist on his desk. “What the hell is wrong with her?”
“That’s what I’m going to find out. Hence, I need her address in Italy.”
“You’re going to follow her?”
“Damn right I am. The woman I’m in love with has just run out on me over an ex-coworker and didn’t even have the courtesy to tell me why. She owes me answers, and I’m going to get them.”
He didn’t share how much she’d scared him when they’d argued. He believed he’d fucked up in a major way, even if he didn’t understand how. The look on her face when he’d accused her—albeit jokingly—of trying to seduce Vorino would haunt him to his grave.
Zane’s frown smoothed. “You’re in love with her?”
Calum grimaced. “Can you focus please and get me her address?”
“You realize I’d be breaking several data-protection laws.”
“I don’t care.”
With a sigh, Zane walked across to a tall filing cabinet in the corner of his office. After rifling through several folders, he found what he was looking for.
“Her résumé.” He passed Calum two sheets of paper. “Her address is at the top.”
Calum clapped his friend on the arm. “I owe you.”
“Call me when you get there.”
Laurella strode through the arrivals hall at Malpensa Airport in Milan. She secured her place in the long line of travelers waiting for taxis then put in a call to Caterina. Her sister answered immediately, and despite her best efforts, Laurella could hear the strain in Caterina’s voice.
“Are you here, Ella?”
“Yes. I’m waiting for a taxi. I’ll come straight to the hospital. How is he?”
“Stable. Mama won’t leave his side, though, so I’m hoping you’ll have some luck persuading her to take a break.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Being the eldest of the Ricci children, Laurella had always been the one her siblings looked up to—the sister who would fix things when they went wrong, the one they all confided in. Yet when she’d needed someone to confide in, she hadn’t felt able to turn to them, because she hadn’t wanted them to realize she was fallible. No, Papa had been the one she’d reached out to. Her wonderful father who, right at that moment, was fight
ing for his life.
Tears threatened, but she quickly blinked them away. She needed to remain strong for her family. “Are the boys all there?” she asked, referring to her brothers who, at twenty-six, twenty-four, and twenty-two were hardly boys, but she still thought of them as her little brothers. “And Alessia?”
“We’re all here. I can’t wait to see you, bella.”
Laurella’s heart squeezed. “Me, too. I’ve missed you, Caterina.”
“Just hurry. We all need you.”
By the time she hung up with her sister, she found herself at the front of the line. She slipped into the back of the lead taxi and gave the address of the hospital. She’d landed at rush hour, so the travel time into Milan took much longer than usual. Bumper-to-bumper traffic reminded her of New York. A twinge of anxiety as she thought about what Calum would do when he discovered she’d gone pricked at her insides. She missed him already, but she needed to get used to being without him because he couldn’t be hers anymore. Vorino had ruined that possibility. She’d thought long and hard on the flight over about how she could remain in her post at Necron but had come to the conclusion that it wouldn’t be possible. And that was why, as soon as she’d landed, she’d dropped a text to Zane, tendering her resignation. She had no other option than to leave New York and return to Italy. At least she’d have her family to support her, although she’d also need to come up with a good reason to tell them why she was giving up on her dreams. Severe homesickness should work, although Papa would see right through her lies.
If Papa survived…
She pressed her knuckles against her sternum as pain shot through her at the idea of losing her father. He’d been the mainstay of her whole life, the man she’d always looked up to, whose shoulder she’d cried on when boys at school had tugged on her braids. He was the man who’d laughed with her at silly comedies on TV—the man whose arms she’d run into when she’d scraped her knee. She loved her mama with all her heart, but she’d always been a daddy’s girl.
By the time the taxi pulled up outside the entrance to the hospital, Laurella was gripped by a combination of fear and apprehension. The thought of seeing her strong, capable father committed to a hospital bed with wires and tubes monitoring his heart was something she wanted to run from. Except she couldn’t. Her whole family was relying on her to be the one to keep it together.
As she approached the reception desk, her hands started shaking. Delayed shock, no doubt. She hadn’t had time to think about things after Caterina’s call. Instead, she’d switched into practical mode. Only when she was mere minutes away from the reality of the situation did it really start to hit her. She must have appeared pale beneath her olive skin, because the receptionist gave her a concerned once-over.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
The familiarity of hearing her mother tongue filled Laurella’s eyes with tears. “I’m here to see Matteo Ricci. He was brought in yesterday with a heart attack.”
After a few clicks of her mouse, the receptionist nodded. “Here we are.” She gave Laurella directions to the high-dependency unit—three little words that sent fear coursing through her heart.
She arrived at the unit, and something about the quiet efficiency with which the nurses bustled around settled her anxiety. This was the right place for Papa to be. She caught the attention of a nurse, who showed her to her father’s room.
Laurella hesitated, resting her palm against the door. She needed a moment to collect herself. After a few seconds, she breathed in deeply and went inside.
Six pairs of eyes swiveled toward the door. A strangled noise came from her mama as she scrambled to her feet. Laurella found herself crushed in her mother’s arms, and moments later, her siblings all crowded around, each one hugging and kissing her. But the reunion was a hushed one. Everyone spoke in undertones, conscious of Papa lying prostrate in his hospital bed.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Mama said, her eyes glistening. She squared her jaw, trying to hold it together for the sake of her children, but the tears fell anyway.
Laurella kissed her mother’s cheek, tasting the saltiness of Mama’s tears on her lips. “How is he?”
“They’ve sedated him to give his heart a chance to rest. They’re hopeful he’ll make a full recovery.”
“Thank God,” Laurella said.
Her mother captured her hand and led her to the bed. Laurella choked back a sob as she bent over her father. His eyes were tightly closed, and although he looked peaceful, the heart attack had clearly taken its toll. His normally healthy complexion was pale and wan, and his skin seemed thinner.
“Hi, Papa.” She kissed him, too, and gently squeezed his arm. The eldest of her brothers, Franco, brought over a chair and, with his hand on her shoulder, eased her into it. She gave him a grateful smile and covered his hand with hers.
“Good to see you, Ella,” Franco said. “We’ve missed you.”
Emotion swelled within her. Soon, she’d be back in the bosom of her family permanently, but the thought didn’t bring her joy. Instead, an intense sadness rushed through her. She didn’t want to leave New York, and more importantly, she didn’t want to leave Calum. But that bastard, Vorino, had given her no choice. He might be chasing her out of her adopted home, but she wouldn’t let him win. She’d leave with her head held high, even if inside, she was crying rivers of tears.
“Would you all mind if I had a moment alone with Papa?” she said, making eye contact with each member of her family.
They all nodded in understanding. Even Mama. They knew the special relationship Laurella had always had with their father, and none of them resented her for it.
Her mama and siblings shuffled from the room, leaving Laurella alone with her father. She caught his hand and pressed his palm to her cheek. He didn’t even stir. The medication must have been keeping him deeply sedated. Good. She didn’t want him awake to hear what she had to say. She wanted to spill her confession without seeing fear and worry cloud his expression and darken his eyes.
“Oh, Papa. He’s back. Alberto Vorino has turned up in New York. He’s working for a company that Necron is partnering with, and worse, I’m supposed to work alongside him. Except I can’t, Papa. I’ve tried to be strong. I’ve really tried, but I can’t see a way out other than to come home to Italy.” A sob caught in her throat. “I’ve failed you, Papa. I’m so sorry. So very sorry.”
Until that point, she’d kept it together, but telling her father opened the dam of emotion. She clamped a hand over her mouth as a scream threatened. The unfairness of it all was too hard to take. She’d put that terrible time behind her long ago. She’d worked hard, gained promotions, honed her skills, and absorbed every piece of knowledge she could get her hands on. Yet in one moment, the walls she’d built had come crashing down. It had all been for nothing.
Chapter 24
Calum walked into the arrivals hall and scanned around, looking for the exit. This was a new airport to him, so it took a few seconds to locate it. Spotting the sign, he headed outside and easily found the line for taxis. He joined the back and switched on his cell. He’d had no word from Laurella, despite him basically spamming her inbox with voicemails and text messages. Anger grew within him slowly, like the burning embers of a fire before the raging flames took hold. After everything they’d been through, she had chosen to run rather than talk to him about what was really going on. He didn’t want to contemplate what that said about their relationship.
He reached the front of the line and gave the taxi driver the address he had for Laurella. As the car pulled into the crazy traffic to the beeping of horns—followed by what Calum assumed was a rude gesture made by his driver out of the window—he called Laurella once more. This time, the automated message told him her inbox was full and no more messages could be left. Goddammit.
He opened the text app. I’m here, on my way to your parents’ house. You can ignore my calls and messages, but you’ll find it harder to ignore me. We are talkin
g this through whether you like it or not.
He didn’t expect a response. She hadn’t responded to any of his other messages. Still, he hoped. He glared at the screen almost as if he could make a reply appear through sheer force of will.
He texted Zane, letting him know he’d arrived and asking whether Zane had heard from Laurella. The answer came back almost immediately.
Yes. She’s resigned.
Calum slammed his fist against the leather seat. “Fuck!”
The cab driver gestured and muttered something in Italian. Calum held up his hand in apology and leaned his head back. He closed his eyes. They were stinging from a lack of sleep and the six-hour time difference. He hated traveling west to east. It was the worst direction to acclimatize to.
An hour later, the taxi stopped outside a large apartment block about fifteen stories high. Calum glimpsed the bright blue of a swimming pool set among communal gardens filled with summer flowers. He paid the fare and climbed out. The driver popped the trunk, and Calum lifted his suitcase onto the roadside. The cabbie drove off, leaving him alone.
Three steps led up to the entranceway. Towing his suitcase behind him, he walked inside. The lobby area resembled that of a nice hotel. In the center was a large round table, on top of which sat an enormous white vase filled with flowers and green foliage. To the left was a bank of elevators, and two women were sitting behind a desk.
“Hi,” Calum said, hoping like hell they spoke English because his Italian consisted of three words: ciao, arrivederci, and stronzo. “I’m here to see the Ricci family.” He glanced down at the piece of paper upon which he’d scrawled Laurella’s address. “Apartment nine twenty-two.”
“Of course, sir,” the receptionist replied in accented English—thank God. “If you’ll sign in here.”
Calum signed his name where she indicated. He rode the elevator up to the ninth floor, anxiety swirling in his stomach. Not only was he unsure what Laurella’s reaction was going to be, but he also didn’t know whether she’d mentioned him to her parents, or whether she was even staying with them. Oh Christ. What if she hadn’t told her parents she’d come home and was currently licking her wounds in a nearby hotel while she plucked up the courage to break the news to them? And he was about to turn up with his size thirteen’s and put his foot right in it.
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