After the Storm (All I've Ever Needed)(9)

The bride’s youngest sister, Eva, had given him a lift back to London. A secondary school teacher, she had only been granted a day’s annual leave by the school’s head teacher and had taken it before the wedding to help with late minute preparations. They had arrived at his parents’ home to find his father lying on the sofa clutching his chest and his mother on the telephone so panicked she was talking to the emergency services operator in Italian and couldn’t make herself understood.

Eva had comforted his mother while he had quickly explained the situation and requested an ambulance. It had been a night of worry. He hadn’t known his father to be ill a day in his life except for having the occasional cold and twice the flu and seeing his mother upset and panicked had been hard for him. His parents shared a love he doubted he would ever find. It was impossible to think of one surviving without the other. It had been such an enormous relief when the doctor had given his father a clean bill of health with just a warning to cut back on spicy foods.

Eva, two weeks older and his best friend literally from birth, had called for updates throughout the night. Stephano had been grateful for her support. She had then risked the head teacher’s wrath by turning up at the hospital at eight this morning to drive him and his parents home. Though he had encouraged her to leave when they arrived at his parents’ house, she’d insisted on waiting until he’d showered and dressed to give him a lift to the office as it was on her way to school. Her first class didn’t start until eleven, she’d argued.

Thankfully his father had seemed his usual self when Stephano had arrived home from the office and looked none the worse for his hospital trip, though he’d complained to Stephano about the bland food his wife had prepared specially for him. She had reminded him that he had cleaned his plate.

Stephano had showered and tumbled into bed expecting to immediately fall asleep, but more than an hour later he was still wide awake.

Natalie’s behavior was totally out of character for the woman he thought he knew. She was an intensely private person and at first none of her colleagues had known if she was married or single. Some of the guys, attracted by her brains, good looks and sexy body had even speculated about her sexual orientation when she hadn’t been forthcoming about her relationship. Stephano had never thought that she was a lesbian—from the first there had been an unacknowledged sexual awareness between them. He’d often thought that he’d caught a look of interest in her eyes but it always faded before he could be certain.

When she’d started working for the company, he’d been living with his now ex-girlfriend. Renata’s possessiveness and lack of trust in him had soured their relationship, and convinced that Natalie hadn’t been seeing anyone at the time, he had waited, not wanting to immediately wanting to rush into another relationship without giving himself some time for reflection. But just as he had thought about making his move, he’d answered Natalie’s phone and spoken to a man with a deep voice and a much more pronounced Trinidadian accent than Natalie’s. The man had left no message, just said that he would see her at home later.

When he had informed her of the call, hoping that she’d shed some light on the man’s identity, she had just thanked him politely. The man had been equally tight-lipped months later when Stephano had answered her phone when she had stepped away from her desk to grab a cup of coffee, just saying to tell her Nathan had called.

Stephano had wanted to kick himself for not immediately grabbing her once he’d broken things off with Renata. Then last Thursday he had eavesdropped as Morgan had asked Natalie how she planned to spent her weekend. She’d would give her house a thorough clean on Saturday as usual, she’d replied, and attend an art exhibition with her brother Nathan and his fiancée on Sunday.

Nathan! Of course he’s her brother!

Stephano had realized belatedly that he’d missed the similarity of their names. He had been so stunned by the man saying that he would see Natalie at home later, his mind had conquered only one interpretation. On reflection he realized that Natalie’s accent did deepen when she was on her mobile phone talking to family members. Sometimes she called her parents ‘Mummy’ and ‘Daddy’. He’d chuckled silently when he’d first heard her do it, but he had somehow gotten used to the fact now.

He’d barely refrained from punching the air with glee on hearing that the man was not his competition. They both had busy weekends, so he would make his move on his return from Harry’s wedding, he’d decided. Then she had hurt her wrist and all his protective instincts had been awakened as he’d gone rushing to her aid.