Chapter Seven
THE WORLD SEEMED to drift slowly back into focus.
Lily found herself enveloped in something warm.
A deliciously soft blanket. The faint chirp of birdsong sounded in the background so it must still be day.
She buried herself into a plush down pillow and took a deep breath.
The scent of it wrapped around her. Rich, woodsy with a hint of spice.
She snuggled closer, her eyes unwilling to open.
Sinking into what must be the most comfortable bed known to humankind.
All of her felt so heavy it was like she’d been sat on by elephants.
The pregnancy causing tiredness like she’d never known.
Lily pulled the blanket a little higher around her, thoughts still drifting. Her sleepy brain began ticking over the day.
Waking up at the convent. Tick.
Eating a meagre breakfast. Tick.
Making her way to—
Her eyes flew open. Above her was an ornate ceiling with plaster mouldings.
Her eyes adjusted to the dimmer light. The windows were covered by thick, cream curtains, tightly drawn.
She lay under a plush cream blanket on a huge bed.
Adorning the walls were magnificent modern artworks.
Some artists she recognised from Max’s gallery.
Others new to her but that Maxine would love.
‘You’re awake.’
Lily’s heart rate spiked painfully, that wretched organ seeming to lodge itself in her throat.
She turned her head. Sitting next to the bed in an occasional chair was Rocco, leaning forwards, elbows on his knees, hands clasped, just like he’d been in that magazine piece.
Except there were no loose and warm smiles today.
His expression was dark and brooding. The man looked … grim.
She couldn’t be here. Not after …oh God. She’d thrown up on his shoes.
She sat up, and the world swam. Her mouth watered and she slapped her hand over it.
Into her vision was thrust what looked like a glass mixing bowl.
She took it, then sat there. Willing her stomach not to empty itself in front of him again, although she doubted there was anything left in it anyhow.
Lily breathed through the crisis till she began feeling a little better, then handed the bowl back to him.
She lay back down, since she wasn’t in any state to get up right now.
There was that scent again, which weirdly seemed to settle her stomach.
She wanted to shove her nose in the pillow and just breathe it in …
till she realised it smelled suspiciously like he had.
Was she in his bed?
‘I’m fine,’ Lily said.
‘You are not fine.’ His voice didn’t sound overly sympathetic, but at least it wasn’t sharp and cruel anymore. ‘You’ve been unconscious or asleep for around half an hour. I have a doctor coming.’
‘I don’t need a doctor. I need to leave and get back to where I’m staying, then catch a flight home.’ Her voice cracked. She didn’t really know where home was anymore. She’d need to look for somewhere cheaper to live. Nothing felt safe or secure. It was as though she’d been cast adrift.
Rocco’s mouth narrowed to a thin, harsh line. There was not a shred left of the man of Venice, who’d kissed her till she’d wept. It was like that person had been a figment of her imagination.
‘Where are you staying?’ he asked.
‘Why do you want to know?’
‘Treat it as payment for ruining my shoes.’
‘As you so keenly bragged, you’re a wealthy man. You can afford to buy another pair, maybe even end world hunger. Do any number of things with your apparently vast riches. There’s no need to worry about me, because I’m not worried about you.’
She sat up again, slowly this time. The room swayed a bit but her normal background nausea didn’t increase. Win!
‘I need to know whether it’s somewhere safe, since you appear to have no interest in your own health.’
Rocco’s explanation had started nicely enough, till he’d ruined it with a sting in the tail.
‘You’re only pretending to care.’
He shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Please. Humour me.’
The word please was what made her relent. ‘A convent on Via Sistina.’ She gave a small ironic smile at that, considering her current predicament.
Rocco’s eyes shot open. Widened. ‘You cannot be serious.’
‘Deadly.’ It was time to leave. Being in this man’s bed was doing confusing things to her equilibrium because she liked it way too much. It brought back powerful memories of being in bed together … ‘Well, nice chat. Now if you’ll just let me—’
He reached out his hand, offering her something. She looked down. A lemon?
‘What’s this for?’
‘My housekeeper, Carmella, says it helps with nausea. You sniff where she’s cut away some of the skin.’
Lily took it, making sure not one part of her fingers touched any of his. It was warm, as if he’d been holding it for a while. She put the rind to her nose, gave it a try. The citrus scent, bright and zesty. Surprisingly, her stomach settled a fraction.
‘Thanks for the tip,’ she said. ‘Now me and my lemon can just—’
There was a soft knock at the door. It cracked open, and a man in a suit walked in. Greying hair, glasses, carrying a black bag.
Rocco stood and held out his hand. They shook, and she’d bet her meagre savings that this man was the doctor. He and Rocco began speaking in Italian. She hated that they were clearly talking about her, and she couldn’t understand them.
‘The patient is right here,’ she said, waving.
The doctor turned and made his way to the vacated chair next to the bed.
Smiled. Rocco walked to the windows and pushed the curtains wide letting light flood into the room.
Then he moved to a corner. Stood there, brooding like it was his life’s mission.
‘Signora Rutherford, I’m Doctor Antonelli. Signor Silvestri tells me that you’re pregnant and that you fainted. Are you under medical care?’
She nodded. ‘In the UK where I live.’
‘How many weeks are you?’
‘Just over nine.’
‘And have there been any difficulties with the pregnancy so far?’
She shook her head. ‘Nothing apart from tiredness, and morning sickness, which has been pretty gruelling some days.’
‘As I’m sure you’ve been told, morning sickness usually improves after the first trimester,’ the doctor said. ‘Though unfortunately, not always.’
There was a soft grunt from the corner of the room—Rocco, making his presence known. The doctor asked a few more questions, took her blood pressure and temperature.
‘I’ve been told you’d like a paternity test,’ he said.
The statement was a reminder that Rocco hadn’t believed her.
That he’d reacted the way he had. And whilst she’d wanted the fantasy of a happy reunion, she’d always known he’d demand a test. Lily had just expected him to be nicer about it rather than showing her cold disdain as he had.
Like she was trying to steal from him when they were both responsible for this situation.
But what did she really expect? She’d been fooled by men before.
Richard was the perfect example. She was going to marry him, and she’d had no idea what he was really like.
At least Rocco had exposed his true self.
It made things easier. She didn’t have to wait for the worst, because he’d shown it to her.
Lily took a deep breath, held out her arm. ‘Sure. Why not? Being pregnant is all about being treated like a pincushion.’
The doctor applied a tourniquet, then pulled on gloves, prepared the syringe. Palpated her arm.
‘Just a little prick,’ he said.
‘I’m used to those,’ Lily replied, casting a quick glance to Rocco, standing with his jaw clenched hard. ‘And recently, even bigger ones.’
The doctor’s mouth kicked up in a whisper smile, as if he knew this was not a case of happy families here. Aside from that, the blood test was fine, she hardly felt a thing. Just a little sting, and then it was done.
‘There,’ the doctor said, placing a bit of cotton and tape over the puncture.
‘No heavy lifting for twenty-four hours on that arm. You have slightly low blood pressure, which isn’t uncommon in early pregnancy with hormonal changes.
It should normalise in the second trimester.
For now, you need rest and fluids. Try to get more nutrition. ’
‘Little and often. I know.’
The man gave her a sympathetic smile. ‘Signor Silvestri, I’ll need your sample. Results will take between three to eight days. I’ll call you when I have them.’
Rocco began rolling up the sleeve of his shirt, showing off the tanned, muscular forearms she’d dreamt of more than once. She turned away, trying to quell the attraction that still lingered, despite herself.
‘I only need a cheek swab,’ the doctor said.
Typical. She got the pain, Rocco got a minor inconvenience. Within a few minutes the doctor had taken Rocco’s sample, then left the room with a nod to them both. Alone, they were plunged into uncomfortable silence.
She’d said all she’d needed to say, got a reaction, and there wasn’t really anything more to do. She tossed away the soft blanket and swung her feet gingerly over the side of the bed.
‘What are you doing?’ Rocco asked.
‘I would have thought it self-evident. Leaving. You’ve made your feelings pretty clear and the paternity test isn’t going to change anything. I know the truth and the results will tell you the same.’
‘You’re not well.’
‘I’m pregnant. I’m going through what millions of women do each year. I’ve done it on my own this far and I’ll keep doing it. You don’t have to worry. I won’t bother you again. I’ll get my lawyer to speak to your lawyer. Isn’t that how this goes?’
‘As I’ve never been in this situation before, I have no idea how it goes.’ Rocco gave a cold and bitter laugh. ‘Please enlighten me.’