Narciso snarled. ‘Lay another finger on her and it’s the last thing you’ll ever do.’
His father jerked in shock, then his face took on a grey hue. Narciso watched, stunned, as Giacomo clutched his chest and began to crumple.
‘Narciso, I think he’s having a heart attack!’
For several seconds Ruby’s words didn’t compute. When the meaning spiked, poker hot, into his brain, he reached out and caught Giacomo as he fell.
Behind him he heard Ruby dialling and speaking to emergency personnel as he tore open his father’s shirt and began chest compressions.
‘Madre di Dio, non,’ he whispered, the fear clutching his chest beginning to spread as his father lay still.
The next fifteen minutes passed by in a blur. The ER helicopter landed on the penthouse roof and emergency personnel took over.
He sagged against a wall when they informed him Giacomo was still alive but would need intensive care immediately.
‘He’ll pull through. I’m sure of it.’
He looked up to find Ruby in front of him, holding out a glass of whisky. He took it and knocked it back in one gulp.
It did nothing to thaw the ice freezing his heart.
‘Leave.’ He repeated the word he’d said what seemed like a lifetime ago.
Shock rushed over her face.
‘Narciso—’
He threw the glass across the room and heard it shatter. ‘No. You don’t get to say my name. Never again.’
He took satisfaction in seeing tears fill her eyes. ‘I can explain—’
‘It’s too late. I told you this thing between Giacomo and I was over. I’d trusted your counsel, taken your advice and abandoned this godforsaken vendetta. But where was your trust, tesoro mio? You knew this was coming. And you said nothing!’
‘He threatened my parents!’
His expression softened for a split second. Then grew granite hard. ‘Of course he did. But his threats meant more to you than your belief that I would help you. That we could fight him together!’ He couldn’t hide the raw pain that flowed out of his voice.
‘I didn’t want to fight! And I was going to tell you. Tonight after the party.’
‘We’ll never know now, will we?’ he said scathingly.
‘Narciso—’
‘Your actions spoke clearly for you. Unfortunately for you, you made the same mistake Maria did. You chose the wrong side.’
* * *
Ruby smoothed her hand down the sea-green dress and tried to stem the butterflies.
In less than half an hour, the grand opening of Dolce Italia would be under way.
Two months of sheer, sometimes blessedly mind-numbing, hard work. She’d volunteered for every job that didn’t require specialist training in the blind hope of drowning out the acute pain and devastation of having to live without Narciso. Her success rate had been woefully pathetic...
‘Are you ready yet, bella bambina? The paparazzi will be here in a minute.’ Her mother entered, wearing an orange silk gown that pleasantly complemented her slim figure. Despite being in her late forties, Paloma looked ten years younger. With her divorce from her philandering husband firmly underway, she appeared to have acquired a new lease on life. The spring in her step had grown even bolder when Ruby had allowed her to take a financial stake in the restaurant.
She stopped in the middle of the small room they’d converted to a dressing room at the back of the two-storey restaurant and cocktail bar in the prime location in Manhattan.
‘Oh, you look stunning,’ she said, then her eyes darkened with worry. ‘A little on the thin side, though.’
‘Don’t fuss, Mamma.’
‘It’s my job to fuss. A job I neglected for years.’
Knowing she was about to lapse into another self-recriminating rant, Ruby rushed forward and hugged her. ‘What’s done is done, Mamma. Now we look forward.’
Her mother blinked brown eyes bright with unshed tears and nodded. ‘Speaking of moving forward, the most exquisite bouquet of flowers arrived for you.’
Ruby’s breath caught, then rushed out in a gush of pain. ‘I don’t want them.’
Her mother frowned. ‘What woman doesn’t want flowers on the most spectacular night of her life?’
‘Me.’
‘Are you sure you’re all right? Last week you sent back that superb crate of white Alba truffles, the week before you refused the diamond tennis bracelet. I wish you’d tell me who all these gifts are from.’
‘It doesn’t matter who they’re from. I don’t want any of them.’ She fought the rising emotions back. She’d shed enough tears to last her a lifetime.
Not tonight. With her mother as her new business partner, she’d paid off Giacomo’s loan and closed that chapter.