‘And your hand?’ she asked, arching a brow towards his bandaged fingers. ‘I can still see all your fingers, so I guess you didn’t cut them off.’
‘No. They seem to be there and they all move. As I say, most of it was my own fault.’
‘Mmm. That really wasn’t very clever, was it?’
He snorted at the mild understatement, and her fingers tightened a little. ‘Sorry. The police are here, by the way, waiting for you to feel well enough to talk to them. And you need to phone your mother.’
He nodded. ‘Call her now for me—I’ll talk to her first. And then I’ll talk to the police. She didn’t really do anything.’
‘Gio, she attacked you. If she hadn’t, none of this would have happened.’
‘She hit me with her handbag. That’s all. The police don’t need to be involved.’
‘And if she comes after you again?’
He shrugged. ‘She won’t. And if she does, I’ll be ready for her this time.’
She gave up arguing. She dialled his mother, handed him the phone and then left him alone and went and found something to eat and drink.
It could have been fantastic, or cardboard. It wouldn’t have made any difference, because she couldn’t taste it, not with the image of him lying there like a ghost so fresh in her mind. But it was food, and she ate it mechanically while she beat herself up about not answering his first call.
What if he’d died? What if he’d rung her, and then passed out from loss of blood before he could call an ambulance? No, he must have called one first. He surely wouldn’t have been stupid enough to call her so many times before he called the medical services? Maybe, if he had her on speed-dial. Maybe he’d thought it would be quicker, but then she hadn’t answered, and that could have cost him his life…
She felt sick, and pushed away the last of her panini. Cardboard, she decided finally, realising she was probably being unfair, but whatever, she couldn’t eat any more of it. She went back to him, and found him propped up on his pillows looking pale and drawn and very tired.
‘What did the police say?’
‘They’re going to talk to her. Apparently she called an ambulance, so she at least has a conscience, but her phone’s now switched off—’
‘She called an ambulance?’
‘Yes—why?’
Because it meant he wouldn’t have died because of her. She shook her head, relief taking her legs out from under her, so she sat down shakily on the chair beside him. ‘Nothing. I’m just surprised. So how are you feeling?’
He shrugged. ‘Much the same. The doctor’s been, as well, while you were gone. They’re going to keep me in overnight and review me in the morning, but they think I can probably go home tomorrow. I have to have another blood transfusion. The vampires were a bit greedy.’
He smiled, but she couldn’t smile back. Not when he’d come so close. She looked at her watch. Nearly midnight.
‘I’ll go home now, then, and I’ll come back in the morning. Do you want me to bring you some clothes in when I come?’
‘Please. My bags are in the car already. If you could bring the small one, it’s got everything I’ll need. The big one’s just ski stuff. You’d better clear it with the police on the way out, or they might not let you get it. It’ll be a crime scene now, apparently. I’ve told them they’re over-reacting, but they seem to feel they need to collect the evidence. Here, my keys. It’s the little Mercedes sports, by the way.’
‘Where’s the Ferrari?’
He smiled. ‘I do too much driving in the city. It was fun, but not practical in the city streets. The Mercedes is much more sensible.’
‘That doesn’t sound like you.’
‘Maybe I’ve changed.’
She just laughed at that. Giovanni Valtieri would never change. She’d given up hoping for miracles.
She took the keys from him, and bent and kissed his cheek, letting her face rest there for a moment. She could feel the slight rasp of stubble, the roughness curiously comforting and reassuring as he turned his head against hers and touched her cheek with his lips.
‘I’ll see you in the morning,’ she murmured, and with another light brush of her lips against his jaw she straightened up and met his dark, weary eyes.
‘Ciao, Anita,’ he mumbled tiredly. ‘And thank you.’
‘Prego. You take care. No more fighting with women.’
He gave a soft chuckle and raised his good hand as she left, and she winked at him and went out into the corridor. The policeman was there, and she asked him to contact the team at his apartment building to alert them that she’d need access to his car.
Then she walked away without waiting for the OK. She was tired and emotionally exhausted, and she just wanted to get home, but first she had to get his bag. The area was cordoned off by the police, as he’d said, and she had to get them to escort her to his car and get the soft leather grip from it.
She made her way home, undressed and crawled into bed, but she couldn’t sleep. She could so easily have lost him—not that he was hers anyway, but the thought of him dying—
‘No! Stop it! He’s going to be all right. Stop torturing yourself.’
But all she could see was his washed-out face.
‘So can you go?’
‘Yes, but I have no idea where I’m supposed to go. I can’t drive like this, I can’t get upstairs to my apartment, and the police have said it’s not a good idea to go back to my apartment anyway until they’ve spoken to Camilla Ponti and assessed her state of mind, but they can’t find her anywhere. She wasn’t at her home address or any of the other places they’ve tried, and they just don’t think it’s a good idea for me to hang around in Firenze.’
She nodded. That made sense.
‘So why not go on holiday as we’d planned? I can drive.’
‘On a skiing holiday? What’s the point? I won’t be able to do anything. You go and join the others, I’ll just go home to the palazzo. Carlotta can look after me.’
She shook her head. ‘They’re away. They’ve gone to visit their grandchildren in Napoli while your family don’t need them. There’s no one there.’
Damn. He’d forgotten that. So what was he supposed to do?
‘Well, you’d better come with me, then,’ she said after a slight pause. ‘I’m on holiday now, so are you—we’ll go to my villa, and I can look after you.’
‘No. You’re supposed to be going skiing. You can’t do that for me,’ he objected, ludicrously tempted.
‘Why on earth not? I’ve been rescuing you since you learned to climb trees. Why not now? You can’t cook, you can’t walk, you can’t drive, but you can rest and recover there while you keep out of the way and wait for the police to catch her. It’s the obvious solution.’
It was. So obvious he’d already thought of it and dismissed it. On the surface it sounded the perfect plan. The only ‘but’—and it was a huge one—was that it meant spending the next two weeks with Anita alone, with no one to diffuse the tension.
And that was a bad idea.
CHAPTER TWO
IT took them a while to discharge him, but finally he was wheeled to the entrance.
Anita’s car was