“No.” Amanda knew that, but it didn’t stop her from scanning the article. The writer had stretched the truth like a pair of old panty hose, but stopped short of calling her Nico’s mistress.
The photo beneath the headline showed her in Nico’s arms as he’d lifted her and thrust her into his Ferrari. She was looking up at him as if he were her knight in armor, the expression on her face one of such naked admiration she winced to see it.
Nico had been captured in the instant he returned her glance, however. His shoulders were stiff, his arm like a steel band behind her back and his features set in grim lines. Yet in his eyes was such protective fury that it seemed the conte was claiming her as his own.
Amanda’s swallowed against the stinging pressure of tears. She breathed with difficulty against their ache. When she was sure they were under control, she folded the paper with care and tucked it into her shoulder bag.
Of course it meant nothing. But she might one day be glad to have the photo for a souvenir.
Aunt Filomena was a vivacious companion who allowed no awkward pauses in conversation. During the days spent going back and forth together, she made the miles zip past with directions to the best boutiques in Florence for leather goods and shoes, tales of her various husbands, memories of the grand parties held at the villa in her youth, and stories about Nico as a mischievous young boy.
Amanda listened to the last with intense interest, though she tried not to show it. She wasn’t sure she succeeded, however, as Aunt Filomena embroidered a little more on his past misdeeds and triumphs every day.
They were not bothered again by the paparazzi. Whether they had done their worst, Nico’s safeguards had discouraged them or some other scandal had drawn them away was difficult to say. Still, it was a relief to be free of their harassment.
At the end of the week, Nico’s aunt begged off the daily visit because of a luncheon engagement. Amanda made the trip alone. She dressed carefully, as she had every other day, being mindful that Nico might show up at any time.
Her suit skirt had been discarded on the morning he left. What was the purpose of hanging on to it, after all, when she had accepted him into her bed? In any case, the dresses he’d chosen in natural linen and cotton in luscious colors of rose and sea blue, ochre and sienna, were far more suited to the climate.
Her choice today was a shift in robin’s egg blue with grosgrain ribbon trim in lime green, one beautifully cut to skim the figure, subtly enhancing even as it concealed. Slipping on the ballet flats that matched it, she could not help hoping Nico might see her in it, might understand that she was glad to accept his gifts, as she had accepted him.
“I am to be discharged in a couple of days,” Jonathan said by way of greeting the instant she entered his room.
A pang of distress shifted through Amanda. It was another reminder, if one were needed, that her time in Italy would soon end. “I know you’re glad,” she answered, summoning a smile. “I suppose I should get on the phone about a flight for us.”
“Not just yet. I only understood about two words in four of what the doctor said, but it seems I’ll need physical therapy. I’m to go to a special spa or facility of some sort.”
“Whatever is best. I hope he will arrange it, since I’ve no idea how to go about it.”
“If he doesn’t, I suppose Nico will.”
“Yes.” Her relief at the thought was instant. Perhaps the facility the doctor had mentioned was actually the villa. And if a part of her gladness was because it might be so, because she need not think of leaving Italy yet in that case, it was her secret.
“But I don’t want to leave here for a while yet,” Jonathan said, echoing her thought unconsciously as he pleated the hem of his sheet between his fingers. “I can at least see Carita for five minutes here and there during the day.”
Nico had, without fanfare, arranged for someone to escort Jonathan down to Carita’s room while he navigated on crutches. Amanda was grateful since it seemed to have speeded Jonathan’s recovery.
“Is there no change,” she asked, “no sign that she might come around soon?”
“I swear she hears me. I can see her eyes moving behind her lids and sometimes she almost smiles. She squeezed my hand, just a little, last night."
“That sounds promising.”
“I think she might come around if I could stay longer, or if Nico or others in her family could come more often to talk to her. She just needs to know someone is there.”
“Nico is away on business, as I told you—”
“Yeah, he came by a couple of times while he was in the city, but said he’d be in Naples a few days.”
“Did he?” Her smile was not quite steady. Jonathan had seen him since she had. “Anyway, possibly Aunt Filomena could sit with her a bit longer when she’s here.”
“Or Carisa, maybe? Carita is really close to her, you know. It’s that twin thing, I guess, though Carita has taken care of her all of their lives. She worries about Carisa, was always trying to make her feel she’s exactly like her in as many ways as possible. She’d come back if she thought Carisa needed her. I know she would.”
“You may be right, but they are trying to keep the seriousness of her condition from Carisa for fear she’ll be too upset. And she might be.” She went on to tell him of how disturbed Nico’s sister had been at the idea that she might be leaving, and how unimaginable the scene could be if she suspected Carita was slipping away.
“Carisa is tougher than they think.” He pressed a fold in the sheet and used his thumb nail to crease it again and again. “At least that’s what Carita always said when we talked about her. Nico keeps her so protected Carisa might as well be rolled up in bubble-wrap and put away. He acts as if she’ll break at the slightest touch, but it’s really that he can’t stand the thought of being responsible if she gets hurt. And she becomes upset at the least little thing because she’s never had to cope. Oh, I don’t mean to sound hard-hearted, but it seems such a shame.”
“You may be right,” Amanda said with a light touch on his fidgeting hands to still them, “but that doesn’t mean Nico would consider letting her come sit with Carita. She might do her a lot of good, but she could also have a very public and embarrassing meltdown.”
“Embarrassing for him, you mean,” her brother muttered.
“For her, rather. I don’t think Nico is easily embarrassed.” Amanda felt the rise of heat to her hairline as she recalled his calm assurance as he’d told her he could handle her climbing into his lap in a public restaurant.
“You’re defending him! For heaven’s sake, why? He can’t go around deciding what happens to people, like his warning me I’ll go to prison if Carita — if she doesn’t make it.”
“It won’t come to that now, surely, if she’s getting better.”
Her brother’s lips flattened into a thin line and he refused to meet her gaze. When he made no reply, Amanda gave a tired sigh.
“What you need to keep in mind is that Nico loves Carisa and has been taking care of her for years, too. As head of his family, he really is responsible for what happens to her, it’s not just talk for him. Before he even thinks of bringing her here, he’ll have to weigh the possible benefit to Carita against the possible damage to Carisa. She is doing better these past few days. She’s getting out more, doing more. It would be a tragedy if something happened to set her back.
“Maybe it’s because he’s gone,” Jonathan muttered.
“Don’t say that!” Amanda heard the irritation in her voice, but couldn’t help it. “Carisa misses him, is beginning to fret now that he’s been away nearly a week.”
Anger and pain surfaced in Jonathan’s eyes. “Meanwhile, Carita just lies there. If I could get out of this bed, I’d bring Carisa here myself.” His face changed abruptly, his eyes zeroing in on her face. “Or — how much longer do you think Nico will be away?”
“No, really—” she began.
“Yes, Mandy, yes. You could bring Carisa here. What’s to keep you from it?”
“To start with, I know Nico would hate it.”
“What do you care how he feels? You’ll probably never see him again once I leave here.”
It was too true to be denied, though hearing it put into words was like a blow to the heart. “He’s been so helpful, constantly checking on you, driving me back and forth, letting me stay at the villa—”
“So he sends you packing for daring to do something he doesn’t like, so what? It’s not as if you intended to be there forever.”
No, she had never, not for an instant, expected forever. She looked away as she shook her head.
“What?” Jonathan asked, his voice growing harder as she stared at her. “You didn’t, did you? I mean, you’re not thinking of staying, don’t have anything going on with his high-and-mightiness, the Conte de Frenza?”
She could feel the hot burn of color across her cheekbones, but there was nothing she could do about it. “Don’t call him that, not after all he’s done.”
“Why not, when it’s the truth? He’s the twentieth or so count in his family line, as high and mighty as they come. Take it as an indicator of why you should stay far, far away from him.”