Her eyes were hurt and accusing. ‘So, what is your name?’
‘It’s Santini,’ he said quietly, and she stared at him in silence, wondering why the name was familiar.
Santini.
Suddenly her eyes widened. ‘As in SMS? Santini Medical Supplies?’
SMS was a huge multinational corporation. Massive. Everyone had heard of it.
Somehow she found her voice. ‘That’s you?’
A muscle worked in his dark jaw. ‘It’s my father,’ he admitted. ‘I don’t get involved. I really do run a women’s clinic in Milan. I left Italy to get away from some men who were threatening me. The authorities arranged for me to work under a different surname.’
She licked dry lips. ‘You lied to me?’
‘I tried to tell you last night.’
‘But you didn’t try that hard, did you?’ She closed her eyes briefly, remembering just what had happened the night before. Just what she’d let him do. Just how much she’d trusted him.
Oh, God, how could she have been so stupid?
She’d made love to a stranger.
A stranger who had been deceiving her all the time.
‘I trusted you…’ Her voice was little more than a whisper as her mind ran over all the intimacies she’d allowed him. ‘I trusted you.’
Oblivious to the curious stares of the policemen, she backed away, looking at him with such pain in her eyes that he sucked in a breath.
‘And you can still trust me.’ His tone was urgent. ‘We’ll sort this out, Zan, I promise.’ He reached out and grabbed her hands. ‘But for the time being we just need to get you somewhere safe.’
She jerked her hands away and looked at him, her eyes glistening with tears. ‘I was safe before I met you.’
He flinched visibly and she knew that he’d understood the depth of meaning behind her words.
It wasn’t just the criminals who had rocked her life; it was him. By deceiving her.
‘Why are they after you?’
Carlo was tense, rattled out of his usual cool. ‘One of my patients had a stillborn baby. There was absolutely no way my staff could have prevented it. It was one of those sad cas
es that just happen. But the father blamed me.’
‘And he’s trying to kill you?’ She stared at him, aghast. ‘Don’t Italian people ever communicate? Don’t they have things like counselling in Italy?’
‘He was past counselling,’ Carlo said wearily. ‘When a child dies the parents often look for someone to blame; you know that. It’s normal.’
‘And you just accept that?’
‘No, of course not. But I can’t help him if I can’t find him. So far I’ve received nothing but threats. We were hoping that by leaving Italy we might be able to lure him out into the open.’
She gave an incredulous laugh. ‘So you’re saying you wanted him to follow you?’
Carlo dragged long fingers through his dark hair and nodded. ‘Yes. He was threatening my family. We thought that if I left Italy it might be safer for everyone.’
‘Except you.’
‘I can take care of myself.’