‘Matt. I’m Mia’s...friend. Look, I’m sorry to phone you, but I don’t know what else to do. Mia gave me your number and I... I can’t get through to her! She’s not answering calls or texts—I’m worried! Really worried!’ He paused. ‘I’m scared she’ll do something stupid.’ His voice sounded choked. ‘Or already has—’
Chill struck Ariana, but she kept her voice calm. ‘OK, Matt. Listen. I’m in Brussels at the moment—at an antiques fair. But I’ll phone thepalazzo, speak to the housekeeper, and ask her to go and check on Mia. Then I’ll get right back to you.’
She rang off and did just that. It took for ever to be put through to the housekeeper, and her anxiety only increased while she waited, but when she was finally put through she knew why it had taken so long. And the reason chilled her to the bone.
‘Signorina Ariana!’ The woman was breathless with agitation. ‘Such a scare we’ve had! But it is all right now. The doctor has been, and Signorina Mia is perfectly well! He has forbidden her to take any more sleeping pills—she must have hot milk and honey, nothing more, if she has insomnia. Your grandfather will insist, so you have nothing to worry about, I promise you. There will not be another such accident.’
Somehow Ariana said what she had to say and rang off. Then she called Matt back, sticking to the housekeeper’s interpretation of what had happened. Mia had been confused, forgetting she’d already taken a sleeping pill and taking another one as well...
But what if the overdose hadn’t been accidental?
It didn’t bear thinking about.
She flew back to Italy early, and drove to thepalazzo—only to find her cousin not there. Her grandfather had insisted she rest completely, she was told, away from all the wedding preparations, and she had gone to a spa.
‘Then I will see my grandfather,’ Ariana said grimly.
The maid looked nervous. ‘Thesignoris very occupied...’ she began.
Ariana ignored her, marching into the library.
The scene that followed was hideous, but she did not flinch from it. Could not.
‘Youcannotlet her go through with this wedding—not after this!’ she threw at her grandfather. ‘Even if it was only an accident...’ she would not put into words her greatest fear ‘...what state of mind must she be in to make such a dangerous mistake? This isn’t just pre-wedding nerves. She doesn’t want this wedding to happen! Youmustsee that!’
She might as well have saved her breath.
Her grandfather surged to his feet, face red with instant rage, banging his stick on the floor in fury. He rang a peal over her head, accusing her of jealousy, of wanting to ruin her cousin’s happiness, of causing trouble as she always did!
‘And do not think to spread your poison to your cousin directly! I have given orders that you are not to see her. You are not welcome—so get out. Get out!’
Ariana got out, her grandfather’s vituperation echoing in her ears as she drove away, heaviness pressing down upon her. The wedding was in a week. What could she possibly, possibly do now to stop it as Mia had begged her to?
It was in the long, sleepless reaches of the night that it came to her. The only way. Unthinkable—but it would achieve what had to be achieved. Ugly, painful, desperate, and it would take every ounce of her nerve and strength of will to carry it out, so repugnant was it to her.
But she would have to do it.
There was no other way.
Somehow she must let her cousin know she would not fail her in her hour of need. However desperate the means...
Luca stood by the altar rail, watching with a softening of his expression as his bride approached on her grandfather’s arm. Soon—very soon now—she would be his. And he would devote himself to her...to her happiness.
She will be my life and I will give her everything she wants! Everything she could ever want!
He could see it already in his mind. Their placid life together, peaceful and serene, devoted to each other...
My sweet, gentle Mia...
He smiled warmly at her as Tomaso patted her hand, then placed it on Luca’s own. He felt it tremble and was moved by that. Her face was hidden by a long veil, and he was glad of that. The gown was simple, but beautiful, with a demure sweetheart neckline, and the folds of the skirt fell into a graceful train held by pretty little flower girls with wreaths in their hair. He had no idea who they were, nor her maid of honour—relatives, he assumed, or the daughters of friends. He was not concerned with his exquisite bride’s family—only with his bride herself.
She was like a fantasy come true...
And just as perfect.
His smile of reassurance deepened. He did not mind that she appeared a little nervous, a little tense—he approved of it, even. Someone as delicate as sheshouldfeel emotional at her wedding...
He could not see her eyes through the veil, but that did not matter so long as she could see him clearly. He pressed her slender hand, to reassure her once more, and felt it tremble again. Then the priest began the service with a clearing of his throat, and Luca turned his attention to him.