‘He doesn’t like me,’ she countered.
Jonny looked startled by the suggestion. ‘Oh, I doubt that.’ His eyes moved from her bright copper head and slid over her trim but slight figure. ‘He’s probably not even noticed you, Sam.’
From his expression it was obvious that Jonny thought she’d be pleased to realise that she was actually too insignificant even to register on Alessandro Di Livio’s radar.
Sam forced a smile. ‘You mean I’m mistaking indifference for rudeness?’
The ironic inflection in her voice sailed over Jonny’s head. ‘He can be a bit stand-offish,’ he admitted. ‘And he’s not a great talker—at least not with me. But then he still thinks I’m not good enough for Kat.’ He lowered his voice and recalled, ‘You know, the night we told him we’d got married I was expecting an explosion, but the guy didn’t turn a hair. Then later, when Kat wasn’t in the room, he told me that if I ever hurt her he would make me wish I’d never been born.’ The recollection made him shudder.
‘He threatened you?’ Sam bristled with indignation. The man was nothing but a thug!
‘It was more in the nature of a promise.’
‘I hope you told him where he could put his threats.’
Jonny looked amused. ‘Yeah, that’s really likely.’
‘You have to stand up to bullies,’ Sam contended angrily.
‘He wasn’t being a bully, he was looking out for his sister—and I don’t really blame him. He’s been fine with me since, but I’ve never forgotten, and he…’ Jonny shrugged. ‘Alessandro doesn’t forget anything,’ he admitted.
‘Well, I think you and Kat were made for each other!’ Sam declared, meaning it.
It should have been easy to dislike Kat. She had it all—pots of money, beauty and Jonny. But it wasn’t! It was impossible not to like Jonny’s wife, who was as warm, spontaneous and sweet-natured as her brother was revolting, cold and conceited.
‘But he’s right.’ Jonny sighed gloomily. ‘I’m not good enough for her.’
‘Rubbish. Since when is Alessandro Di Livio the expert on relationships? The only person he’s likely to form a loving and long relationship with is his own reflection!’
Jonny chuckled. ‘Don’t let Kat hear you say that,’ he warned, flashing a guilty look towards his wife. ‘As far as she is concerned, Alessandro can do no wrong. But then,’ he added, a note of defence creeping into his voice, ‘he did virtually bring her up single-handed after their parents were killed in that crash.’
Sam felt a cold shiver running down her spine and gave the baby a sudden hug, closing her eyes and burying her face deeper in the comforting warmth of her sweet-smelling soft hair.
The crash Jonny referred to had killed two members of the famous aristocratic Italian family and left a third fighting for his life. It must have had saturation media coverage at the time, but Sam, who had only been in her teens, had only a vague recollection of the story. Coincidentally, she had caught a TV programme only the previous night, in which it had featured prominently.
In asking Are Some People Born Lucky?, the programme-makers had presented a pretty compelling argument that some people did lead a charmed existence, surviving situations which logically they should not have.
The programme had made compulsive viewing, but it had had the sort of voyeuristic qualities that made Sam feel uncomfortable. She had been about to vote with her feet and switch off when a computer simulation had shown the route the Di Livio car had taken when it had gone over the cliffedge, and she had literally held her breath as she watched the action replay.
Sam hadn’t been surprised to hear emergency workers comment that it had been the first time they had ever taken anyone out of a wreck alive on that treacherous mountainside.
When the commentator’s voice had posed in thrilling accents the question ‘Was this man born lucky?’ the screen had been filled with the image of a young-looking Alessandro, his dark hair whitened with dust, his bruised face leeched of all colour, strapped to a stretcher about to be air lifted away from the twisted, mangled remains of the car.
Sam had then switched off the TV and muttered angrily to the cat, ‘Lucky? Very lucky, if your version of lucky happens to involve nearly dying and losing both your parents…Idiots!’
She had caught sight of her scowling reflection in the mirror and stopped dead, her eyes widening. I’m getting all protective and indignant on behalf of Alessandro Di Livio…now, how bizarre is that? One thing was for sure, she’d thought, flashing a wry smile at her mirror image. The recipient of her caring concern would not have been grateful!
The programme had preyed on her mind. She just hadn’t been able to get the image of his tragic, blood-stained face out of her head, no matter how hard she’d tried. Then this morning at the church, as she’d sat alone and waited for everyone else to arrive, in he’d walked!
It had really spooked her—think about him and he appears…That will teach me to be more careful about who and what I think about in the future, she had reflected, shrinking back into her seat.
Unobserved, she’d had the luxury of being able to stare at him. People would probably pay for that privilege. But, no matter how hard she’d looked, she hadn’t found any trace of the vulnerability she had seen in the face of that young man with the bleak, empty eyes, clinging to life.
Same classical profile, same aquiline nose, same razor-sharp prominent cheekbones, and his mouth was still sexy enough to cause a sharp intake of breath in the unprepared observer, but the man exuded an air of unstudied confidence and control.
If she had glimpsed even a shadow of that younger man Sam thought her attitude to him might have softened, but she hadn’t, and when a few moments later she’d knocked a hymn book to the floor and alerted him to her presence she had looked away quickly.
‘I saw a programme about the accident last night,’ she said now.
Jonny nodded. ‘Yeah, Alessandro phoned Kat and told her not to watch it. He said it was sensationalist rubbish and would only upset her.’
‘And did she watch it?’
‘After he’d told her not to?’ Jonny laughed at the notion of Kat not following her brother’s suggestion.
‘Well, he may be a control freak, but in this instance,’ Sam admitted, ‘he was right. It would have upset her. It was a bit graphic.’ A chilly shiver traced a path down her spine as she recalled the bleak devastation in the eyes of the man they had called lucky.
‘I suppose he’s afraid it will resurrect the story.’
‘How old was Kat at the time?’ Jonny’s wife had only been nineteen when they’d married, after a whirlwind romance.
‘She was eleven. She would have been with them on the trip, but she spiked a fever at the last minute…turned out she had mumps.’
‘Lucky mumps,’ Sam said thinking about the moment that morning in church, when her eyes had brushed Alessandro’s. Her smooth brow furrowed. Jonny’s wrong. He doesn’t like me. Her chin came up to a belligerent angle.
Which suits me fine!
Her grim expression lightened as Laurie’s fingers closed over the beaten silver pendant she wore around her neck and she tried to draw it to her rosebud mouth. Sam, grateful to be distracted from her thoughts, disentangled the tenacious chubby fingers and shook her head.
‘No, Laurie, it wouldn’t taste good,’ she reproached.
Jonny’s fingers tightened on her shoulder. ‘Feeling broody, Sam?’
The