"Would you have donated your marrow?" Gemma asked.
"Without hesitation," he said, and she knew he meant it.
This was a side of him that she'd never seen before and she didn't know quite what to make of the changes. Gone was the austere demeanor. He seemed younger. More relaxed. More open.
"If you've no more questions, I'll return to talk with you after Rachel's CT scan and blood work is finished," the doctor said.
Gemma forced a calm mien as the nurse took Rachel from the room for her tests. The old worry that the girl's numbers would be high or the technician would see something that indicated the cancer had returned plagued her.
She wanted her to be free of the disease that had taken her own mother's life. She'd failed to save her mother and this was her redemption. More, actually, for she'd come to know Rachel and love the child nobody had wanted.
The second the door to the examination room closed, the walls fairly swelled with tension. She turned to Stefano who was watching her with eyes that mirrored the depth and mystery of the Mediterranean Sea.
"Why wasn't I consulted as a bone marrow donor?" Stefano asked, pushing to his feet to prowl the small room.
Why indeed? Gemma could only guess from what Cesare had told her.
"Your father didn't want his wife to know about Rachel. If you'd been called in to test for a match, his secret would have been revealed," she said.
His hand cut the air in an impatient gesture she'd come to recognize. "Was he too cowardly to confess his infidelity?"
"Perhaps protective is a better word," Gemma said. "He told me his wife lacked a forgiving nature and she'd already suffered enough grief with the death of your brother and his family."
The grim lines on his face told her that he'd suffered as well. "He should have told her about his love child years ago."
She shook her head. "Cesare didn't know Rachel existed until a year ago. That's when a social worker at the hospital contacted him about her grave condition."
He scrubbed a hand over his mouth. "Was it before or after Davide's accident?"
"After," she said. "Rachel was sick. Dying. He'd just buried one son and family. He couldn't let his daughter die as well. So he took money from the company and from his wife's trust fund to pay for Rachel's care."
He cut her a cold look that enveloped her in ice, but she refused to shrink from his anger on this. For Rachel she'd brave anything-she had braved it already by facing her deepest fears.
"How in the hell did a woman from Manarolo become involved in my father's business? Was it money?"
The accusation stung, but considering the troubled past between them, she let the comment go.
Tell him all of it. Get it all out in the open now. But that meant she'd have to divulge her own fears and guilt.
"I attended university in Milan and volunteered at the hospital every weekend," she admitted. "I was working here nights when Rachel was admitted. There was a letter with her explaining that the mother could no longer care for her. Cesare was listed as the father, so we notified him."
"He took a paternity test?"
"Right away and it was conclusive proof."
"That is obvious just looking at her," he said. "I take it you were the stranger my papa could confide in."
"Yes." And the one whose marrow was a perfect match, but she couldn't bring herself to discuss that now, not when there was a greater issue at stake.
"Now that you know about Rachel, you can see that she leads a normal life. She shouldn't have to remain hidden here."
He stalked to the window and splayed a hand on the glass, the fingers long and bent just enough to remind her his relative calm was a tenuous thing-as if she needed a reminder!
"The school Rachel attends is elite but it is not a boarding school," he said. "Who takes care of her?"
"Your father hired a nanny who sees to Rachel's daily needs, but it isn't the same as living with family."
"Does Rachel know the difference?"
"I'm sure she does," Gemma said. "She needs to live in Viareggio with her family. She deserves to live a normal life."
"Normal how?" he asked. "I went to a private school. I rarely saw my family. This doesn't differ that much. The girl attends school in Milan. Her doctors are in Milan."
"In other words she is out of your hair if she stays here," she said, and when he didn't refute that she wanted to scream. "Of course you'd take this stance."
"It is logical and the best solution for my half sister."
Couldn't he address the child by name? "You've no idea what is best for Rachel. You don't know her and it is clear you have no intention of getting to know her."
A charged quiet arced between them, like the wake of an electrical storm. He didn't pace. He didn't scowl. He just stared at her with a face burned clean of emotions.
"My father arranged for her to stay here so I trust this was his choice," Stefano said.
He would take that logic. "It was his only choice at the time. Keeping Rachel here was ideal during the worst of her medical care, but of late Cesare had talked about moving her to Viareggio."
"That is out of the question now," he said. "My father's doctors say it is unlikely he will recover enough to care for himself, let alone a business and a child."
Gemma had suspected as much, but hearing it made her heart ache for Cesare and Rachel. She met Stefano's stoic gaze without flinching despite the stab of regret that he wouldn't open his arms and heart to Rachel.
"You should know that Cesare asked me to assume Rachel's care should something happen to him, and I trust he made the proper arrangement," she said and hoped that were true. "You will not have to bother yourself about her welfare."
"Did my father establish a separate trust fund for her?" he asked. "Is that why you are so keen to take over the care of my sister? Do you hope to gain control of her fortune?"
The verbal slap sent her emotions reeling again. "I am doing this because I love her. If Cesare set aside any money for Rachel, it will be hers."
"How noble of you." He straightened, becoming six foot three of domineering male. "She is not your responsibility."
A chill whispered over Gemma's heart as she stared into his enigmatic eyes and read the challenge there. "You don't want her so why are you fighting me on this?"
"She is a Marinetti."
As if saying that meant anything. "She's a child in need of love. I can give her that. Can you?"
"I will provide for my sister."
She stamped a foot in frustration. "That is not the same thing as opening your heart to her!"
"I am her brother," he said. "If my father can no longer see to Rachel's care then it falls to me."
"You don't want her."
"I doubt my father did, either," he said.
Gemma moved to the other window and stared out at a city that bustled with activity for she simply couldn't bear to look into Stefano's hard eyes again.
Was there any way that she could reach his heart? Could she get him to see that having his family around him would make him a better man?
"You're wrong," she said. "Cesare could have stood by and done nothing to save Rachel, but he hired the best doctors. He sat by her bedside when she was frail and sickly and given little chance to survive even after they found a perfect donor match. Does that sound like a man who didn't want to be near his child?"
Stefano was silent for so long she feared he wouldn't answer her. "No, it does not."
She didn't delude herself into thinking that small concession was a sign he'd softened. She doubted that Stefano had ever conceded defeat in his life.
But she couldn't give up Rachel, either. "Please, let me assume her care. She needs me."
He turned her to face him and nudged her chin up with a curled finger, his touch igniting a torrent of conflicting emotions in her-anger, fear, desire.
"Does she really need you, bella? Or do you need her?"
CHAPTER TEN
THE lush lips that trembled apart confirmed what Stefano had sensed in her. Gemma Cardone was obsessed with seeing to his sister's welfare.
It made no sense to him that a stranger would become so attached to a sick child, especially one she'd only known a short time. But it was clear his sister was equally close to Gemma-the two shared a bond that was as strong as blood ties.
"This donor that was a perfect match. It was you," he said, certain he had pieced that much together now.