Scandals Of The Ruthless: A Shadow of Guilt

By the end of the first week Valentina could hardly see straight she was so tired. She was driving almost two hours each way every day in her clapped-out car and after calling in to see her father in hospital it was usually after midnight before she got to bed, before getting up again at 5:00 a.m.

Her father’s condition was not good. He was on a waiting list for a major heart operation but it could take months for him to be next in line. The very real fear that he could have another heart attack, and this time a worse one before the operation, was constantly on Valentina’s mind. Not to mention her mother, who was beside herself with worry.

She was in the act of turning with a plate of pastries in her hands when the door to the kitchen opened, startling her. When Valentina saw who it was, the plate slipped out of her fingers, smashing all over the floor.

Even the sound couldn’t really jar her out of her exhaustion as she bent to start picking up the pieces.

‘Wait, let me do that.’

Valentina stood reluctantly and watched as Gio bent down at her feet and started picking up the biggest pieces. One of the evening cleaners came in then and Gio instructed him to clean up the mess. He took Valentina by the arm and led her out, protesting, ‘I should clean it up—it’s my mess.’

‘Leave it,’ growled Gio before letting her arm go and turning to face her outside the kitchen door. Nearly everyone else had already left for the evening.

Gio looked at his watch and asked, ‘What on earth are you doing here at 8:30 p.m.?’

Valentina flushed, far too aware of Gio’s earthy smell—musky and masculine. He must have been working with the horses. He seemed very tall and imposing right then, his broad shoulders blocking everything out behind him, making a curious ache form in Valentina’s belly. She hadn’t seen him much during the week and she only realised now as some tension ebbed away that she’d been unconsciously waiting for him. It made her angry and she glared up at him, hands on hips. ‘I’m working late because it’s the only quiet time in the kitchen when I can experiment with new recipes.’

‘Working late isn’t a problem, as long as you start work late, but you’ve been in every morning this week at 7:00 a.m., well before most other people.’

‘How do you know?’ Valentina asked suspiciously.

‘Because it’s my business to know these things.’

Valentina bit her lip when she could feel a retort springing up. She remembered the last time and how her cruel words had rang in her head for days afterwards.

‘Fine,’ she said grudgingly, ‘I won’t work so late from now on.’

Gio sounded grim. ‘You look exhausted, and I don’t believe you.’

Valentina looked up at him and was actually too tired at that moment to argue. All she could do was wearily pull her apron over her head and say, ‘Well, then you won’t stop me going home.’

Gio took her arm and all but frog-marched her out to where his jeep was waiting. ‘I’m driving you—you’re a liability.’

Valentina started to protest but he all but lifted her into the passenger seat and secured the seat belt around her. Her mouth was open to say something but when the hard muscles of his arm brushed her breast she shut it abruptly, heat flashing up through her body.

As grim-faced as Gio, Valentina crossed her arms and once they were on the main road to Palermo she managed to get out a strangled, ‘How am I supposed to get to work in the morning or are you providing a personal chauffeur service to your staff now?’

Gio sent her a quelling look. ‘It’s Saturday tomorrow so you shouldn’t be working anyway, but I’ll have someone drop your car home for you.’

When they were reaching the outskirts of Palermo, in about half the time it would have taken Valentina, she said, ‘I need to stop at the hospital first.’

Gio obliged and took the road to the hospital and when he got out of the jeep and met her at the front she stopped and said, ‘What are you doing? I can get a taxi home from here.’

‘I’d like to pay my respects to your mother if I may, and your father if he doesn’t mind.’

Valentina couldn’t speak. Guilt flooded her and she avoided Gio’s eyes. Under his questioning look she blurted out, ‘The truth is that my parents don’t know about...my job. That I lost it, or that I’m working for you.’

Gio folded his arms; his belly felt leaden. ‘And you think they’d be upset if they knew?’

She looked up at him. ‘Well, what do you think?’

A bleak feeling rushed through Gio. How could he have forgotten for a moment the intense and awful grief of that day by the graveside. He ran a hand through his hair and stepped back. ‘You’re probably right...it’s not a good idea.’

‘What’s not a good idea? Gio, I’m glad you came—Emilio has been asking for you.’

They both turned at the same time to see Valentina’s mother on the steps of the hospital where she’d clearly been getting air and had heard their last exchange. With no choice now, Gio followed a stony-faced Valentina and her mother into the hospital, his stomach churning at the thought of what lay ahead.

CHAPTER FOUR (#u65b7c152-176d-5663-a414-baa8b1db717f)

‘WHAT DID YOU say to my father?’ Valentina hissed at Gio as they walked back out of the hospital an hour later.

Gio was still in shock himself at how Emilio had reacted to seeing him. Alone in the hospital room with the old man, Gio had steeled himself for whatever Mario’s father was going to say, expecting a diatribe or a level of hostility matched by his daughter. But the man had completely taken the wind out of his sails by saying a little stiffly, ‘First of all, thank you. I believe the reason I’m still alive is because of you.’

Gio had muttered something unintelligible, embarrassed.

And then Signor Ferranti had held out his hand. ‘Come here, boy...let me look at you.’

Gio had walked over and given his hand to Emilio, who had taken it in a surprisingly strong grip. His voice was rougher, emotional. ‘When we lost Mario...we lost you too.’

Gio’s mouth had opened and closed. His own emotion rising thick and fast. Eventually he’d got out, ‘But...don’t you blame me? Hate me for what happened?’

Emilio had let his hand go and pointed to a chair for Gio to sit down and he’d done so, heavily. Stunned.

‘I did,’ the old man admitted, ‘for a long time. It was easier to blame you than to believe that it could have just been a tragic accident. But ultimately, that’s what it was. I know well how reckless Mario was, you were as bad as each other.’

‘If I hadn’t had that cursed horse though—’

Signor Ferranti put up a hand, stopping Gio. He arched a brow. ‘Do you really think you could have stopped Mario when he wanted to do something?’

Gio’s chest was so tight he could hardly breathe. He half shrugged.

Mario’s father said gently now, ‘Mario followed you around like a puppy, wanted to do everything you did....’

A granite weight settled in Gio’s belly, the all-too-familiar guilt rearing up when he thought of the countless reckless activities he’d encouraged Mario to join him in over the years. Anything to alleviate his own sense of yawning loneliness. ‘I know,’ he’d just answered quietly.

As if sensing his self-flagellation though, Valentina’s father had said gently, ‘Gio, he worshipped the ground you walked on...just as I know you did him.’

Gio looked at Signor Ferranti in surprise. There was no condemnation in his voice, only weary acceptance.

‘For Valentina though...it was very hard for her to come to terms with. She was so angry...is still angry, I think.’

‘Gio!’

Gio looked down at Valentina blankly for a second. He was still in the room with her father. They were outside the hospital doors now and her arms were folded and she was glaring up at him. There were smudges of weariness under her eyes and that made Gio’s resolve firm even more.

Now she’d got his attention she continued. ‘So are you going to tell me how on earth you had the nerve to propose moving my father to a private specialist clinic in Syracuse, let alone taking him to a hospital on the mainland for a major heart operation?’

Gio reigned in his temper which seemed to be growing a shorter and shorter fuse around this woman. He took a deep breath. ‘I offered to help your father and I’m glad to say he accepted. By moving him to Syracuse while he waits for the operation, you will be able to move into the staff accommodation at the racetrack. It’ll wipe out your commute and give you an easy mind with your parents so close. It’ll also ease their minds to know you’re not overexhausting yourself.’