Eight endless hours later she was finally released from the police. When she asked about returning to the villa, the man at the desk shook his head.
‘The villa is being searched by the police. Everything there is potential evidence. You won’t be able to go back for some time.’
And so Emma headed out into the busy streets of Palermo, mopeds and sports cars speeding by, her mind spinning as she tried to think what to do now. She had no real reason to go all the way back to the villa. She had nothing of value there but a few clothes and photography books.
But where could she go?
She ended up at a cheap hotel near the train station; she sat on the single bed, her backpack at her feet, her whole life in tatters.
She told herself she was used to moving on, and it would be easy enough to look for a new job. She could spend some time with her father in Budapest while she decided where she wanted to go, what she wanted to do.
And yet that prospect seemed bleak rather than hopeful; she might be used to moving on, but she hadn’t been ready this time. She’d liked her life in Sicily. The villa had been the closest thing she’d ever known to a home.
And as for Larenzo...
She’d known, of course she’d known, that their one night together wasn’t going anywhere. But it had still meant something. She’d felt a deep connection to him last night, an understanding and a tenderness... Had it all been false? According to the police, he was a Mafioso. The inspector had told her they had incontrovertible evidence, had said there were photos, witnesses, files. Everything to convict Larenzo Cavelli of too many horrible crimes. Extortion, the police had said. Theft. Assault. Organised delinquency, which was the legal term for involvement in the Mafia.
Faced with all of it, Emma knew she had no choice but to believe. Larenzo Cavelli was a criminal.
The next morning, after a sleepless night, Emma went to an Internet café to arrange her passage to Budapest. Yet as she clicked on a website for cheap airfares, she realised she didn’t want to go there. She didn’t want to traipse around Europe, taking odd jobs, at least not yet. She wanted to go somewhere safe, somewhere far away from all this, to recover and heal. She wanted to see her sister. Quickly Emma took out her mobile and scrolled through for Meghan’s number.
‘Emma?’ Concern sharpened her sister’s voice as she answered the call. ‘You sound...’
‘I’m tired. And a bit overwhelmed.’ She didn’t want to go into the details of what had happened on the phone; they were too recent, too raw, and she was afraid she might burst into tears right in the middle of the Internet café. ‘My job in Sicily has ended suddenly, and I thought I’d come for a visit, if you don’t mind having me.’
‘Of course I don’t mind having you,’ Meghan exclaimed. ‘Ryan will be delighted to see you.’
Emma pictured her tousle-haired three-year-old nephew with a tired smile. It had been too long since she’d seen him or her sister. ‘Great. I’m going to book a flight for tomorrow if I can.’
‘Let me know the time and we’ll pick you up from the airport.’
Twenty-four hours later Emma touched down in New York and, after clearing immigration, she walked straight into her sister’s arms.
‘Is everything okay?’ Meghan asked as she hugged her tightly. Emma nodded wordlessly. Nothing felt right at that moment, but she hoped it would soon. All she needed was a little time to get over this, and then she’d be back on the road, taking photographs, looking for adventure, as footloose as ever. The prospect didn’t fill her with anything except a weary desolation.
She spent the next week mainly sleeping and spending time with Ryan and Meghan; she wanted to shut the world out, but she couldn’t quite do it, and especially not when her sister looked up from The New York Times one morning, her eyes narrowed.
‘I’m just reading an article about how business CEO Larenzo Cavelli was arrested for being involved in the Mafia.’ Emma felt the colour drain from her face but said nothing. ‘Wasn’t that your boss, Emma?’
‘Yes.’
‘That’s why your job ended?’
Emma nodded jerkily as she poured some orange juice. ‘Yes.’
‘You were working for someone in the Mafia?’
‘I didn’t know, Meghan!’
Meghan sat back in her chair, her eyes wide. ‘Of course you didn’t know. But good gracious, Emma. I’m so glad you’re here, and you’re safe.’
Emma closed her eyes briefly. She could picture Larenzo as he braced himself above her, his face suffused with tenderness as he gave her more pleasure than she’d ever known or thought possible. And then just hours later, when she’d heard the thud of the boots in the hall, the men glaring at her as they ripped the sheet away from her body...
‘So am I,’ she said quietly. ‘So am I.’
After that she couldn’t shut out the world any more. She read in the newspaper that Larenzo had confessed to everything, and there would be no trial. Within a month of her arrival he’d been sentenced to life in prison.
Two days after that, Emma realised she hadn’t got her period that month. One three-minute test later, she discovered the truth. She was pregnant with Larenzo Cavelli’s child.
Eighteen months later
‘LOOK AT ME, Aunt Emma!’
Emma waved to her nephew as he clambered to the top of the climbing frame at the playground near her sister’s house. It was late October, and the leaves of the maple trees in the little park were scarlet, the sky above a cloudless blue. It was a beautiful, crisp day, and yet even so she couldn’t keep herself from picturing the mountains of Sicily, and remembering how clear and pure the air was up there at this time of year.
Shivering slightly in the chill wind, Emma told herself to stop thinking about Sicily. She would never go back there. Never see the Nebrodi mountains again. Never see Larenzo Cavelli again.
Which was just as well, considering the man was a criminal.
Instinctively her gaze moved to the stroller a few feet away, where her daughter Ava was sleeping peacefully. She was ten months old, born on Christmas Eve, and Emma still marvelled at her. Still marvelled at the way her own life had changed so drastically.
When she’d discovered she was pregnant, she’d been shocked and numb for days, as well as embarrassed that she hadn’t even thought about birth control when she’d been with Larenzo. That was how much he’d affected her. How much she’d wanted him in that moment.
Meghan, as eagle-eyed as ever, had guessed she was pregnant within a matter of days, and Emma had ended up telling her sister everything.
‘What do you want to do?’ Meghan had asked in her direct way as they’d sat at her kitchen table, Emma shredding tissues while Meghan got up to make tea. ‘I love babies,’ she continued as she switched on the kettle, ‘and I think each one is a blessing, but I’ll support you no matter what.’
‘Thank you,’ Emma had answered, sniffing. ‘Truthfully, I don’t know what to do. I never planned on marrying or having a family...not that marriage is a possibility in this case.’
‘Why haven’t you?’ Meghan asked, one hip braced against the counter as she fixed Emma with a thoughtful stare. ‘Most people think about being with someone, at least.’
‘I don’t know.’ Emma shredded another tissue, avoiding her sister’s perceptive gaze. ‘You know me. I