Captive in his Castle. Chantelle Shaw

      A movement from the other side of the room made Jess turn her head, and she saw a woman whom she guessed from her strained face and red-rimmed eyes to be Angelo’s mother.

      Overwhelmed by an instinctive need to express her sympathy, Jess murmured, ‘I’m so sorry about Angelo.’

      The woman stared at her, and then spoke to Drago in a torrent of Italian. Jess could not understand a word, but she sensed that her presence was not welcome. Remembering Drago’s warning that his aunt was distraught, she wondered if she should leave and come back to visit Angelo later, but as she turned towards the door Drago placed a firm hand on her shoulder and pushed her forward.

      ‘Aunt Dorotea, Jess has come to talk to Angelo in the hope that he will respond to her voice.’ He looked steadily at his aunt. ‘I’m sure you appreciate that she has rushed from England to visit him.’

      His aunt continued to stare at Jess, with no hint of welcome on her rather haughty face. But then she said sharply, ‘You are my son’s girlfriend?’

      ‘I am his friend,’ Jess corrected her.

      ‘So you are not his mistress?’

      ‘No.’ Jess frowned, puzzled by Angelo’s mother’s distinctly unfriendly attitude. She glanced questioningly at Drago. ‘I could come back another time, if you think it would be better.’

      He shook his head. ‘I brought you here to talk to Angelo. Your name is the only word he has uttered, so perhaps he will respond to you.’ He looked at his aunt. ‘I want you to go home for a few hours. Fico is waiting to take you. You need to get some rest and have something to eat. You will not be any help to Angelo if you collapse,’ he added, countering his aunt’s attempt to argue.

      Despite her obvious reluctance to leave her son, his Aunt Dorotea nodded as if she was used to her nephew taking charge. ‘You will call me if there is any change?’

      Drago’s voice softened. ‘Of course.’

      He escorted his aunt from the room, leaving Jess alone with Angelo. She sat by the bed, watching him, just as she had done with Daniel when one of the care workers from the home had taken her to visit him. Angelo looked so young and defenceless. It was agonising to think that he might not survive. Her throat ached, but she swallowed her tears and leaned closer to take hold of his hand. It felt warm, and that filled her with hope.

      ‘Hi, Angelo…’ she said huskily. ‘What have you done to yourself?’ It was difficult to know what to say, but after a moment’s hesitation she continued, ‘The guys missed you when you didn’t show up for work. Gaz said you make the best tea. We’ve nearly finished the Connaught Road job. I’ve just got to fit new skirting boards.’

      She felt comfortable talking about work and kept up a flow of chatter, although her heart sank when Angelo did not make any kind of response.

      A slight sound from behind her alerted her to the fact that Drago had come back to the room and was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his broad chest. Immediately Jess felt self-conscious. ‘My coming here hasn’t done any good,’ she told him flatly. ‘He hasn’t shown the slightest flicker of reaction.’

      ‘We can’t expect a miracle. All we can do is keep trying.’ Drago walked over to the bed and stared at his cousin’s motionless form. He knew it was stupid to feel disappointed that Angelo had shown no sign he had heard Jess. He had put too much faith in her. But, Dio, he was desperate—and he had hoped for a miracle, he acknowledged heavily.

      ‘I overheard some of what you were saying to him,’ he said abruptly. ‘I admit I still find it hard to imagine that are you a decorator. You don’t look the type to do manual work.’

      She shrugged. ‘I’m stronger than I look.’

      Studying her slender figure, Drago was tempted to disagree. She seemed more upset by seeing Angelo than he had expected. Her delicate features looked almost pinched, and earlier he had watched her blinking back tears. Her eyes looked huge in her pale face and there was a vulnerability about her that was unexpected.

      If it wasn’t for the phone call he had received a few minutes ago from the private investigator he might have been taken in by her. But the confirmation that she was a petty crook who had been found guilty of fraud a few years ago increased his suspicion that she had used some underhand and possibly illegal means to get her grubby hands on his cousin’s inheritance fund. If necessary he was prepared to use equally underhanded methods to get the money back, Drago thought grimly.