Public Wife, Private Mistress

Before they'd had time to recognize their insurmount­able differences.

So what did that mean? Was Chiara playing yet more games?

Chiara's smile faltered and she glanced between them, sensing something in the atmosphere.

'Rico? Are you still angry with me?'

'No, piccola, I'm not angry.' Rico's eyes flickered over his sister's face, as if searching for clues. 'But is that the last thing you remember? Arriving when Stasia and I were on our honeymoon?'

Chiara nodded. 'Why?'

Rico smiled. 'No reason.' His deep voice was strong and reassuring and betrayed none of the worry that he was clearly feeling. 'I need to talk to the doctors again. Try and rest. Don't worry about anything.'

The doctors gathered round the bed at Rico's bidding and the family retreated to the relatives' room for yet another tense wait.

They didn't wait long. Within minutes Rico was called back to the bedside and he returned to the waiting room moments later, looking more stressed than Stasia could ever remember seeing him before.

'The doctors say that she has amnesia. Memory loss.' His eyes slid to his mother as he spoke, checking her reaction to the news. 'Apparently it's common. She can remember nothing since that day when she turned up at the villa when Stasia and I—' he broke off and then continued with what appeared to be considerable effort '—Stasia and I were on our honeymoon.'

Stasia felt her colour rise as everyone turned to look at her.

She remembered that day so well.

They'd been on the beach, swimming and making love endlessly. When they'd finally dragged themselves back to the villa, still locked in each other's arms, Chiara had been in the pool.

Rico had been furious with his sister and Stasia had gently intervened, although she too had been disap­pointed to find that suddenly they had company.

In the end Rico had heeded Stasia's pleas and al­lowed Chiara to stay for the weekend and had then dis­patched her back to school with a severe lecture about concentrating on her studies.

Stasia let out a breath, realizing that if this was the last thing that Chiara could remember then she was missing a substantial chunk of her life.

Shocked by the news of this new complication, his mother sank into the nearest chair, a look of horror on her face. 'Is it permanent?'

Rico gave a shrug that made him seem more Sicilian than ever. 'They cannot say. There's every probability that her memory will return but no one knows when. In the immediate term the priority is her physical recovery. They are extremely pleased with her progress. All being well she should be able to come home to us in a few days, which is nothing short of a miracle.'

His mother smiled with relief, her hands clasped in her lap. 'You will take her to your villa?'

Rico gave a nod. 'She needs peace and a restful atmo­sphere. The villa is the obvious place. I'll make arrange­ments to work from Sicily for the time being so that I can keep an eye on her.'

'I will come and stay also and take care of her,' his mother said immediately but Rico shook his head.

'There's no need. She needs to be kept as quiet as possible. It would be far better if you stayed in your home and visited from time to time.'

His mother gave a reluctant nod. 'If you think it's best.'

As usual she deferred to Rico, as did the entire family.

When Stasia had first met them their total dependence on him for every decision had astonished her and then later it had driven her crazy. Weren't any of the women in his family capable of thinking and acting for them­selves, without his permission?

Stasia glanced at her watch and realized that it would be dawn soon. 'Well, it's clear that I'm no longer needed,' she said quietly, her eyes sliding to Rico, try­ing to subdue the desire to throw herself at him. Trying not to think that this was probably the last time she 'd ever see him. From now on it would be back to the lawyers.

The reality of that fact left her feeling profoundly depressed.

'I'm afraid it isn't that simple.' Rico's expression was grim, as if he were dealing with an issue that he found distinctly unpalatable. 'Unfortunately, Chiara's memory is locked at that point eighteen months ago when we were on our honeymoon. She thinks we're happily mar­ried.'

Stasia took a long, slow breath. That fact hadn't es­caped her. 'Then, I suppose, at some point you'll just have to tell her that we've been living apart for the past year.' But not the reason why. Only she and Chiara knew the truth and Chiara no longer had a memory. 'You'll have to tell her the truth.'

What choice did they have? At some point Chiara would presumably seek an explanation as to why they were no longer living together.