“Are you sure? She should have arrived an hour ago.”
Again the guard shook his head in the negative.
He called Antonia, who said she had personally escorted Sabrina to the car that had picked her up. He tried calling Markos, but he wasn’t picking up his phone. He called Olivia, who was staying in The Medeia, to inquire for him. She promised she’d call back ASAP. Could she have left the principality? Her flight was scheduled for tomorrow. Where could she have gone?
What was taking Olivia so long? He drummed his fingers on his thigh and glanced at his wristwatch. Five minutes had elapsed. He trusted his efficient assistant to do the job. He would just impede her inquiries by calling every minute like he wanted to. Olivia had barely blinked when he had flung Sabrina’s letter at her and had procured the gowns and jewelry he had specified early this morning. Seven minutes. His thoughts circled, then screeched to a stop. The letter…
And now he remembered what had been bothering him about that letter. She had addressed Markos, her previous lover, by his last name. Before he could ponder about this niggling detail, Olivia called back.
“To Coretta,” he barked to the driver. He wasn’t going to stop until he found her.
Luca had been scouring the mostly deserted streets for an hour. He wasn’t familiar with the area. Seirenada was not his home, but he knew the area like a local. And like a local, he avoided the areas that catered heavily to tourists.
He went around questioning the local proprietors of the boutique hotels that had remained open for the wedding if an American, a Sabrina Connelly, had checked in. They eyed him suspiciously even if he was dressed in a suit. He didn’t give them any explanation and just left his mobile number for them to forward it to her.
She had not given The Medeia her mobile number, Olivia had reported. Merda! Why had they never exchanged mobile numbers?
Because you were afraid she’d pursue you, idiot. And now you’re the one running after her.
The perceived unshakeability of his parents’ marriage was something Luca had taken for granted. When his father abandoned them, it seemed the ground which he had been standing on had crumbled to dust, leveling all the sign posts in his life, rendering him like a tourist without a map. Everything was strange, suspicious, including the people he encountered. His loss of faith made him filter everything and everyone with cynism. He was often a victim of conjectures and gossip and should have known better than to believe what he read in those tabloids. How many times had he smiled at a woman and the gutter press would have them involved in a torrid affair a day later?
He had judged Sabrina without giving her a chance to defend herself.
“Just answer the question.”
“I don’t suppose you’d let me explain.”
“It’s a simple question. Did you love him? Yes or no.”
Her eyes had gone flat. “No.”
He had convinced himself that he had never wanted to know more about her when it ate at him, all the things that didn’t seem to add up about her.
And now that he did, it might be too late.
The bloodcurdling scream jerked him out of his reverie. His body froze even as his heart jackhammered. He tried to pinpoint the location. It sounded like it came from the next street. He bolted to the direction where several passersby were congregating at a corner of an intersection. He followed their gazes and with horror saw Sabrina tumbling down a long, steeply curved street.
He’d recognized her golden hair anywhere.
He dashed into her path at the bottom of the street. He wanted to race up and break her fall midway but realized with her momentum, she might knock him off his feet and they’d both end up being hit by vehicles at the intersection.
He dropped to his knees, extended his arms, bent them at the elbow, and braced for impact.
She rolled right into his arms, slamming against his chest.
“Oof!” he grunted, digging his knees into the cobblestones to stop them from toppling over.
She twined her arms around his neck. He could feel her trembling. He gathered her closer. They remained that way for several minutes. Catching their breaths, slowing their heartbeats, easing the tremor in their muscles.
“Are you alright?” He had spoken in Italian without realizing it, but it seemed she had understood the context anyway.
She nodded weakly. Her head dropped back and she stared up at him, open-mouthed and disbelieving.
He dropped his forehead to hers.
“I told you,” she said in a thready voice, her shallow breaths fanning his face, “not to make me fall for you.”
He lifted his head and stared into her accusing brown eyes. So he hadn’t been imagining things at all last night. He expelled a weak, relieved laugh at her show of spirit. She was going to be okay.