Public Wife, Private Mistress

'So—you have come back.' His mother's voice was stiff and her eyes scanned Stasia's heightened colour, rested on her bruised mouth and then shifted to her son with a look of undisguised horror and disbelief.

Eternally indifferent to the opinion of others. Rico met his mother's reproachful gaze with admirable cool and took Stasia's hand, openly defying anyone to chal­lenge him. Then he stepped towards the bed. leaving no one in any doubt about who was in charge.

Pathetically grateful to him for his gesture of protec­tion, even though she knew that it meant nothing. Stasia held his hand as though it were a lifeline.

His mother stepped back respectfully but the glance she gave Stasia was so pained that the younger woman felt a lump building in her throat. What had she ever done to deserve that look? Nothing. Except marry a billionaire. Apparently that had been enough to earn her the label of 'gold-digger.'

'Chiara—' Rico's voice was roughened with concern as he bent to kiss his sister.

Her eyes fluttered open and for a moment she stared at her brother blankly. Then a smile touched her mouth.

'Rico.' Her voice was little more than a whisper but the entire family released a collective sigh of relief. Rico's mother stepped forward and embraced her daughter, and Chiara's grandmother sank into a chair by the bed and took her hand, tears pouring down her wrinkled cheeks.

'She's come back to us—'

Which sounded like Stasia's cue to leave.

Without even realizing that she was doing so, she freed her hand from Rico's and backed towards the door.

She wasn't needed here. She wasn't part of their fam­ily and never had been. Chiara had regained conscious­ness. It was time to go home.

But Chiara was saying something else, her voice so hushed that Rico had to bend his dark head closer in order to hear her.

He straightened and his gaze arrowed in on Stasia who by now was by the door, preparing to leave. 'Wait.' His voice was roughened by emotion. 'She's wondering where you are. She wants to speak to you.'

Stasia froze. For a moment she thought she must have misheard him. Why on earth would Chiara want to speak to her now that she had fully regained conscious­ness? Uttering her name in a semi-comatose state was one thing but this was something quite different.

Aware that the whole family was looking at her, Stasia swallowed and released her hold on the door handle.

After all, what could Chiara say that she hadn't al­ready said? What could she do to hurt her that she hadn't already done?

Feeling the increased beat of her heart, she walked towards the bed, every step a supreme effort of will.

Rico stood to one side as she approached and she stared down at Chiara, noticing that the bruise on her forehead seemed even more livid.

'Hello, Chiara.' Her voice was little more than a croak. 'I'm so glad you're awake. We've all been wor­ried.'

'Stasia.' Chiara gave a soft smile and her eyes drifted shut. 'Beautiful Stasia. When I'm better, can we go shopping? You always look so fabulous. I want you to teach me how to dress like you.'

There was a shocked, disbelieving silence from all those gathered around the bed.

Stasia stood rigid, unsure how to respond. She and Rico had lived apart for the whole of the past year. Why would Chiara say a thing like that, unless she was trying to drive the knife in the moment she regained con­sciousness? She searched Chiara's face, looking for signs of the mockery she knew so well, the defiance and sarcasm that had been so much a part of the girl when she'd known her, but they were missing.

Chiara's eyes opened and she glanced around her, trying to interpret the silence. She looked wary. Puzzled. As if she sensed that something was wrong.

'What's the matter? Wh—what have I said?'

'Nothing, mia piccola,' Rico was quick to reassure her, his hand covering hers. 'How are you feeling?'

Chiara winced slightly. 'I have a headache. And I don't understand why you're all here. What happened?'

'I told you about the accident.' Rico's dark brows locked in a frown. 'You don't remember the accident?'

Chiara thought for a moment and then shook her head slightly. 'Nothing. I just remember that you're on your honeymoon.' She gave her brother a wobbly smile. 'And you were really mad at me for turning up unan­nounced and disturbing your romantic twosome. Are you still mad at me or am I forgiven?'

Rico loo

ked as though he'd been turned to stone, his powerful body motionless. Standing close to him, Stasia felt his tension and heard his mother's murmur of con­cern from the other side of the bed. She did a swift mental calculation and worked out that the incident that Chiara was referring to had occurred almost a year and a half ago. At the beginning of their honeymoon.