This is the opening of my current novel, it's going to be a full-length, and I'm two chapters from the end, but thought I'd share the opening with you and see what you think.... (The beautiful image of the street in Rome is the work of Vincenzo Chiofalo, and is used with his permission.)
Grande Amore
© Denysé Bridger
The
sunshine of Rome
Her
guide and friend, Luisa, would be aware of her absence by this time, but
getting Brad Markham to start looking for his wayward girlfriend might not be
as easy as it should have been. The bright sun, coupled with the stress, was
waking a headache that pulsed more strongly with each passing minute.
“Signorina?”
Startled,
she looked up and offered a shaky smile to the pleasant caffè owner. She
struggled to recall the few basic words of Italian that Luisa had drilled into
her in case she needed them. Awkwardly she spoke the foreign words, hoping
she’d said them at least well enough that he would understand her inability to
communicate further. Ordering the cappuccino had been difficult enough, though
he’d been remarkably quick to bring her the drink.
“Is
there a problem?”
The
words, spoken in English made her weak with relief. She glanced past the
owner’s shoulder and her reprieve was instantly tinged with uneasiness. A young
man watched her. His smile was open and friendly, but the gleam in his eyes
told her he was fully aware of her situation and was equally willing to take
advantage of it.
She
shook her head, but the caffè owner was already speaking
to him in a rapid-fire rush of Italian. The headache started banging in her temples
with relentless force. She gritted her teeth and closed her eyes for a moment,
dragging in a much needed breath to calm her anxiety.
* *
*
“We’re
picking up too much noise!”
Biting
back a curse, Riccardo Bartolinni crossed the distance separating him from the
sound engineer who was scowling at the electronic board in front of him.
“This
was supposed to be finished today,” he commented, and took the headphones that
were pointedly thrust at him. He lifted one of the padded cups to his ear and
heard the telltale static of raised voices filtering past his music.
They
were shooting the location pieces that would turn the video for Man of a Thousand Dreams into another
international hit for the singer who was, for many women, the man of a thousand
dreams. The song was a strong, dramatic, romantic ballad, the kind that had
sold millions of records worldwide. Creating the video in Rome
He
handed the headphones back to the sound technician and turned slowly, eyes scanning
past the curious spectators who’d stopped to watch the film crew. A couple
leaned together, and the change in their positions gave him a clear line of
vision to the caffè next to their location. Standing next to a table was
the owner, Enrico Scala, an old family friend. His deeply tanned face was livid
with anger as he shouted at the good-looking young man who was responding with
equal intensity.
But,
it was the girl seated at the table, watching with horrified confusion that stirred
empathy in him. She was staring at the two men, her eyes wide. In the afternoon
sunlight, the burnished auburn of her flowing hair caught the rays like tongues
of flame, and he smiled.
“Let
me see what I can do,” he said without glancing back. Ignoring the raised voices
in his wake, he strode past the onlookers who cleared a path for him as he went
straight for the caffè.
Arriving
unnoticed by the two men shouting at each other, Riccardo paused for a moment
to listen to the cause of the argument. It didn’t take long to understand what
was going on and his irritation surfaced swiftly. From the corner of his eye he
noticed the girl appeared ready to make a run for it.
“Enrico?”
The
relief on the older man’s face was almost comical. He spoke in Italian, and
asked what was causing the disruption. The young man who’d been the cause of
the noisy dispute told him to mind his own business. He was ignored, and Enrico
quickly verified that his assumption was correct.
The
girl was a tourist with little knowledge of the language, and the boy was
trying to take advantage of that fact. Riccardo turned his stare to the angry
man. He saw recognition in the other man’s eyes, and wariness.
“Enrico
tells me you claim this young woman is your girlfriend?” He smiled, and knew the
expression lacked any real friendliness. “She does not seem happy to be with
you.”
“What
business is it of yours?”
“None
at all,” Riccardo agreed. “But unless you can convince me, I will ask her
myself. What will she tell me?” The challenge in his tone was unmistakable, and
the flash of anger in the other man’s eyes flared recklessly, then the stranger
offered a rude gesture as reply, followed by an even ruder suggestion as to
what Riccardo could do with himself and the girl.
Enrico’s
stifled laugh made Riccardo’s eyes narrow when he looked at his old friend, but
he couldn’t suppress the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“My
apologies, Signorina,” he said, in
English, when he turned his attention to the edgy girl. “May I join you for
coffee?” He actually laughed at the look of near-fright she couldn’t hide
quickly enough. “I assure you, coffee is all I am suggesting we share.” Another
quick glance over her appealing presence made him wonder if he’d just lied to
her, however inadvertently. She was curvaceous and extremely feminine, the type
that always attracted his attention. Aside from the beautiful mane of flowing
hair, her face was gently contoured into appealing lines, and the curving bow
of her mouth stirred a small tremor of deeper awareness inside him.
When
she nodded, albeit reluctantly, he sat at the table. Enrico departed, and
returned moments later with two cups of latte, and several delectable looking
pastries.
“He
was not your boyfriend.” He didn’t offer it as a question, more a statement he
wished her to confirm, and she sighed.
“I
have no idea who he was,” she replied. “Is that what he told you?”
“Among
other things,” Riccardo answered with a smile. His eyebrow rose and his
interest piqued when she didn’t respond other than to nod. There was a bleak
resignation in her lovely green eyes that seemed distinctly wrong for her.
There was also no recognition in their depths. Was it possible she really didn’t know who he was? The idea pleased
him. It was a novel change.
“My
name is Riccardo Bartolinni,” he told her. When she smiled politely and offered
her hand, he lifted it to drop a light kiss on her knuckles.
A
light flush of pink tinted her cheeks.
“I’m
Jillian Light,” she offered in a voice that was barely more than a whisper,
then she hid behind the amenity of stirring her latte.
“How
long have you been in Rome
“Long
enough to get hopelessly lost.”
He
laughed. “You shouldn’t be alone, Jillian, especially without proper knowledge
of the language.”
Her
eyes sparked with annoyance, but the truth of his words was not something she
could argue with, and she nodded in agreement. “I lost the group I was with;
they went ahead when I stopped to look at the fountain across the way. I
thought Luisa would notice, but she hasn’t come back.”
“Where
is your hotel?”
“I
wish I knew. It’s the Hotel Forte, near the Spanish Steps.”
She
made the statement with annoyance, but he knew it was self-directed.
“I
have to return to work,” he said after he finished his coffee and Enrico had
come back to the table. “I’ll have my driver take you back to your hotel,
Jillian Light,” he added with a smile. From the corner of his eye he could see
her fumbling in her bag. Enrico was speaking in a rush of emphatic Italian,
trying to make her understand he didn’t want payment. Riccardo touched her hand
and shook his head. “Enrico does not want you to pay, signorina. I think he will be greatly offended if you insist.”
“Grazie,” she murmured, with the first
genuine smile he’d seen since sitting down with her. The older man beamed his
pleasure at her, then spoke to Riccardo, insisting that he come to the caffè
for a visit and a decent meal when he was done with his work.
Riccardo
stood and gestured for her to walk with him. She cast a final smile at Enrico,
then fell into step at his side.
“Thank
you so much, Signor Bartolinni.”
The
film crew watched with no discretion at all as he took her to the waiting limo
a short distance away. He tried not to let the knowing grins and nods irritate
him, his reputation wasn’t so pure that they didn’t have reason to think he’d
just picked up his companion for the evening. The knowledge that it was the
obvious conjecture lit a sincere flare of disgust deep inside him though, and
he tried to ignore it. It should have been easy enough, he’d been doing it for
years, and had cultivated the reputation he had with the dedication of a farmer
devoted to his gardens. It kept the media occupied enough not too look into his
past, and that was precisely why he allowed himself to be presented as he was
to the world.
“This
is Ilario,” he told her, shaking off the moments of retrospect that always left
him feeling faintly disgusted with himself. “He speaks English well enough that
he will be able to take you wherever you wish to go, Signorina Light.”
Her
eyes glistened with sudden tears and he kissed her hand again.
“Ciao, Bella,” he said.
* *
*
Tucked
safely in the luxurious limo a few minutes later, blessedly out of the
blistering sunshine, Jillian dared to breathe again. Ilario pulled into traffic
after asking where she needed to go, and she was left to wonder if she’d just
lost her mind. She deliberately ignored the voice that was screaming inside her
head, the one that was calling her an idiot for so blithely accepting the care
of a total stranger. She’d been lost, and now she was being taken back to where
she needed to go, she refused to consider any other possibility.
The
man who’d come to her rescue was like something from a dream and she allowed
herself a minute of pure indulgence as she drew the memory of that first
instant of contact when she’d glanced up to see him walking toward her.
Riccardo
Bartolinni was breath-takingly handsome, with his traditional dark good looks.
But, it was the brilliant, warm brown gaze that captivated and held you when he
looked at you, she reflected. In those striking dark eyes a world of
intelligence and charm could be cast out like a trap, and any woman he turned his
gaze on would undoubtedly fall willingly into the fathomless depths.
She
catalogued him in her mind; starting with the shining black leather shoes,
perfectly tailored black trousers, narrow, silver buckled belt, to the pristine
white of his shirt; then on to the thick brown-black hair that had been
wind-blown and slightly unruly at the caffè. His face was perfectly
contoured, his mouth wide and sensual. Even the tiny, glittering diamond stud
that graced his left ear lobe suited him. Everything about him was a study in
symmetry and beauty. He was tall, well-built, well-dressed, and confidence came
as naturally to him as breathing. Yet, it was the vitality and energy of the
man that vibrated in the air around him, and lingered long after he was gone.
Being
in Riccardo Bartolinni’s orbit was like being swept into a world that shone
just a little brighter than everything around it. His easy charm had quickly surrounded
her and made her the centre of the universe the moment his eyes found hers and
lingered. His smile was as warm and radiant as the Roman sun. She’d felt
beautiful, safe, and utterly secure while he’d been close to her. The knowledge
was like a wondrous discovery.
Something
had been nagging at the back of her mind ever since he’d told her his name, but
she couldn’t grasp the evasive thought long enough to figure out what it was
that she felt she should know. The car was coming to a smooth halt and she had
no more time to consider her benefactor’s mysterious presence as the door was
opened and Ilario smiled politely at her.
He
accepted her thanks with a nod and a wave as he got back into the limo and
expertly slid the car into afternoon traffic. Jillian went into the hotel and
headed straight for the elevator. Her headache had come back with renewed vigor
and she wanted nothing more than to lie down and try to calm the tempest in her
brain.
The
ride up in the elevator took what seemed like forever and she was starting to
feel queasy when she reached the door to the room she’d reserved with Brad. She
had her room card in her hand when the soft, muffled ripple of feminine
laughter stilled her hand.
A
numbing cold started to seep into her bones and she stared down at her hand,
poised to open the door onto a betrayal she knew she did not want to confront.
Her
fingers shook, the tremor barely perceptible despite the earthquake in her
stomach. She wasn’t so much in love with Brad that this should destroy her, but
was she ready to face Rome Toronto
For
a suspended moment in time, Jillian closed her eyes and turned, prepared to
walk away and pretend she hadn’t heard a thing. A flicker of memory taunted
her, Riccardo Bartolinni’s startling brown eyes as he assessed her desperate
misery, and the internal strength that was so much a part of him. The ghost of
his presence, however brief his appearance in her life had been, gave her
courage. Good men didn’t treat women like they were worthless because it suited
them. She’d seen the proof of that less than an hour ago.
She
shoved the card into the coded lock and went inside as the door swung open in
near silence. Something inside her stilled while she stared at the couple in
the bed, their expressions more honestly shocked than she felt. Jillian smiled
a little, and let the door glide shut behind her as she went into the spacious
room.
Brad
glared at her, and for a moment she wondered why anything about him had ever
appealed to her. Her heart was still filled with another man’s image, and
despite it being uncharitable and against her nature, the comparison was made,
and Brad Markham’s charm was suddenly non-existent. She glanced at the girl who
was scrambling from the bed, dragging sheets with her. One of the hotel maids.
Jillian had seen her earlier.
“Where
the hell have you been?”
She
gaped at him in disbelief.
“You’re
not serious, Brad? You’re mad at me because I found you in bed with the maid?”
She laughed at the absurdity, and his face reddened with rage. “I’ll go for a
walk,” she informed him. “When I get back, I’ll pack my things and move to
another room.”
She
could feel the tremors reaching upward from deep inside her and knew her
bravado was crumbling fast. If she stayed longer, she’d break down in front of
him, and the idea of him seeing her tears was suddenly abhorrent. She went to
the door, only distantly aware of his voice following her. His words never
actually touched her conscious mind, but his anger seeped into her heart and
numbed it further.
Five
minutes after leaving the sanctuary of Riccardo Bartolinni’s limousine, Jillian
stepped into the warmth of the Roman sunshine again and looked around. A sense
of utter desolation clouded her mood and she stared, suddenly at a loss for
direction of any kind. As the bright afternoon blurred into tears, she started
walking away from the hotel…
* *
*
Catarina
De Luca pushed a newspaper at Riccardo, making it impossible for him to remain
oblivious to her presence any longer.
“Isn’t
that the girl you picked up at the caffè yesterday?”
Startled
by the question, he glanced at the page. The photo proclaimed the girl was
missing from her hotel. It wasn’t a flattering picture by any means, he noted
without conscious thought, probably borrowed from her passport.
“I
didn’t pick her up, Cat,” he replied shortly. “I didn’t see her after Ilario
took her to her hotel.”
“So
this isn’t some irate boyfriend I’m going to have deal with when she shows up
to tell him she spent the night with Riccardo Bartolinni?”
Her
sarcasm didn’t sting, but Caterina could say his name with so much distaste on
occasion that it sounded like a profanity. Only his lovely cousin could grate
on his nerves without even trying to annoy him.
“She
did not spend the night with me.”
Cat’s
smile was genuinely amused. “You must be losing your charm, Ric,” she teased.
He
was saved the need for a reply when the car stopped and his door was opened a
moment later. The video shoot would be completed by mid-morning and he could
escape to his villa in Amalfi shortly thereafter. He kept that thought in mind
as his reward for not throttling Caterina. She knew him too well, and it was a
constant source of friction between them. But, she was also the best assistant
he’d ever had, and there was absolutely no chance of her becoming infatuated with
him, an unfortunate occurrence he’d had to deal with more than once in the
past. Of course, she was quick to remind him that if he’d stayed out of certain
beds, he’d still have at least two of his previous assistants and not have to
put up with her.
He
skimmed the short article that accompanied the picture of Jillian Light.
According to the paper, she’d never returned to her hotel. He stepped from the
limo and indicated the paper when Ilario closed the door after Caterina joined them
in the bright sunshine.
“Where
did she ask you to leave her?”
“I
left her at the entrance to her hotel, Signor
Bartolinni.”
Riccardo
nodded, already wondering why it even mattered. His indifference wasn’t real,
though, and that bothered him. He felt uneasy, and it wasn’t something that
happened to him often. He’d spent years learning to keep people from
penetrating his veneer of casual charm, a protective instinct that kept him
safe, and though few would understand it, kept others safe as well.
“Everyone’s
waiting,” Cat interrupted his thoughts with a nudge to his arm.
The
sound and film crew were set up. They chatted amongst themselves and sipped
morning coffee. He passed the paper to his driver then took Caterina’s arm and
headed for the small crowd.
Almost
an hour later, they were forced to take a break. He was getting irritable and
short-tempered, but knew the interruptions were unavoidable. Despite starting
early, things were delaying the completion of his new video. Technical problems
arose at just about any public shoot, with people, traffic, and general noise
making it difficult for everyone.
He
decided to take refuge in Enrico’s caffè for a short time. Cat was
waving to him, but he ignored her and headed for the caffè. He was
almost to the door when he glanced back and saw the woman seated at the same
table she’d occupied the day before. He felt his mood lighten, and backtracked
to where she sat.
“Signorina Light.” He stopped a few feet
from her. The smile that had come into his mood was slowly leeched from him by
the chill creeping up his spine despite the glowing sunshine. Jillian stared
straight ahead, no change in her expression, no recognition in her eyes. She
was frozen, like a beautiful mannequin. He forced his feet to cross the last
few feet that separated them.
“Jillian?”
She
made no sound or movement and he touched her cheek. The ice that kissed the
back of his neck emanated from her he realized when he made his fingers brush over ashen skin that held no
warmth. He dropped to one knee and put his hand to her neck, seeking a pulse.
It was there, faint and erratic. Fear shivered into his veins and he looked
more intently at her. As his gaze dropped to the ground near his knee, he saw
the expanding pool of blood.
He
rose in a single, fluid motion, calling out to Caterina. She was already
punching numbers on her cellphone as she reached his side. Riccardo looked
around, eyes scanning the gathering crowd, searching for someone he knew he
wouldn’t find. Cat’s hand on his shoulder was an anchor he clung to as
something inside him screamed in objection to the idea that this pretty girl he
barely knew might die.
* *
*
“How
is she?”
Riccardo
looked up when his cousin slid gracefully into a seat beside him. The hospital
waiting room was sterile and not meant for comfort, yet he barely noticed the
cramp that had settled into his muscles while he stared out the window.
“They’ve
not said,” he answered. He sighed and leaned back, eyes closing while he drew
in deep breaths. “I don’t even know why I’m still here, Cat.”
When
silence met his statement, he opened one eye and peered at her, suspicious.
“No
comment?”
She
laughed at the edge in his voice.
“What
would I say, Ric? Something about her has you behaving like a caring man again,
instead of the image you like to present to the world. I like this side of you.
I’ve missed the person I grew up loving so much.”
He
scowled at her, irritated by the observation.
“Signor Bartolinni?”
He
stood and the doctor came into the waiting room, hand extended in greeting.
“How
is she?”
The
doctor, Abruzzi
“Sedated,
she’ll be that way for some time. She came through the surgery, but she’s lost
a lot of blood.”
“She’ll
recover, though?”
The
doctor nodded, then gestured that they be seated again. He dropped into a chair
across from Riccardo and Caterina, leaning forward so his elbows rested on his
knees.
“She
was in shock when you found her, Signor
Bartolinni. She’s had a delicate surgery. She will need time to recover fully
before travelling.” When he was answered with silence, he leaned back. “I
understand she’s a tourist, one the police have been searching for as a missing
person.”
“What
of it?” Cat’s hand on his arm stilled his spurt of temper, and he covered her
fingers with his, suddenly grateful for her presence. “She is a tourist as you
say,” he continued, more calmly. “I believe she was with a group.”
A
movement near the door caught their attention and Riccardo straightened in his
chair. He recognized Caterina’s fiancé, and his presence was a surprise.
Rodrigo Calabria
“Rod!”
Caterina was at his side in a few steps, her smile fading when he kissed her
forehead and looked past her to where Riccardo watched them.
“I
need to speak with you, Riccardo,” he informed the singer. “It’s about the girl
you brought in.”
Riccardo
felt his eyebrows rise as the words hit him. “Why do the police have an
interest in this?” He tried not to make it a challenge, but the antagonism had
been between them for years. Long before his cousin had fallen in love with the
detective.
“She
was stabbed, Ric!”
“Do
you have to do this every time you
speak to each other?”
Caterina’s
words cut into the tension like a surgical blade, her quiet, husky voice
shaking with anger. When neither man replied she glared at them both.
“I
want you to see something,” Rodrigo said with more noticeable kindness. He
actually smiled when Riccardo’s look darkened with greater suspicion. “I’m not
planning to charge you with attempted murder, Riccardo,” he assured. “But this
is something you’ll want to see.”
“Will
you stay, Caterina?” Riccardo asked.
She
didn’t look happy, but she nodded, and they left the room after the doctor.
Less than twenty minutes later, Riccardo slumped back in the chair where he’d
been viewing surveillance tape from Enrico’s caffè.
“You
see why this may concern you?” Rod asked.
He
nodded, thoughtful, and worried.
“Is
there no way to make the image clear?”
“The
lab is working on it, but it’s the audio that’s partly clear. Until we speak to
Signorina Light, we have no idea who
this attacker is, or why it’s your name we’re hearing spoken.”
Riccardo
rose from his chair, paced the room like a caged panther, then stopped to stare
out the barred window of the hospital security centre. He’d acquired some truly
bizarre fans during the past few years, but he was finding it difficult to
believe any of them could be responsible for what had happened. Yet… it was his
name being shouted on the video recording. The sex of the attacker was no more
clear than the face, but the name was like a curse. Accusing him. And he felt
genuinely guilty, despite the lack of logic in it. A voice from his past tried
to whisper, and he blocked it with ease, years of experience in the reactive
denial.
“It’s
very likely my sound people can help,” he said when he turned to face a quiet
Rodrigo. “Can you give me a copy of the disc?”
Detective
Calabria
Riccardo
was almost through the door when Rod’s voice held him back a moment longer.
“I’m
sorry this has had to involve you, Riccardo.”
Riccardo
looked back, surprised by the peace offering. He nodded his thanks, and
continued out of the room.
* *
*
“Who
is he?”
Caterina
started when he spoke over her shoulder.
“I
think he’s her boyfriend, Ric,” she answered, uncertainty in her tone.
Riccardo
paid more attention when he took a second look, and his anger stirred to life
inside him. Never prone to jealousy, he nonetheless recognized the alien
emotion as his appraising stare swept over the man speaking with Doctor Abruzzi
“What
room is she in?”
“This
way,” Caterina said and led him down the corridor. She smiled a little and
leaned up to kiss his cheek when they stopped outside the door of Jillian’s
room. “I’ll see if I can keep him out of here for a short time,” she offered.
“Cat,”
he handed her the DVD that Rod had given him. “See that the sound people get
this. I want to hear the voice on it, clearly.”
She
took it and tucked it in a pocket of her lightweight jacket, then she was
strolling back to the Nurse’s Station. Taking a steadying breath, Riccardo
pushed the heavy hospital door inward with a soft displacement of air. The room
was still and so quiet it made his skin prickle with unease. He went to the
bedside and looked down at the woman lying there, no sign of motion or life in
features that had been animated and full of emotion a day earlier.
“What’s
happened to you, Bella?” He whispered
the words into the air, knowing they’d never be heard. He touched her cheek,
traced the soft curve, then bent to kiss her forehead, the gesture instinctive,
and surprising to him. She was reminding him too vividly of another woman, from
long ago, a girl he’d loved and lost for all the wrong reasons. If there were
ever right reasons, he’d not lived long enough to discover what they might be.
A
soft flutter of air surprised him and he looked down at her, relief suddenly
making his legs feel weak. He took her hand in his and sat on the edge of the
bed. She was trying hard to focus, and he waited. Gradually her green eyes
opened and her mouth twitched with a ghost of a smile.
“Ric…”
He
nodded. It was a familiar use of his name, yet oddly endearing on her lips,
though he suspected it had more to do with drugs making her mind sluggish than
any conscious effort to charm him.
“You’re
quite safe, bella mia,” he told her.
She
smiled again and before she could say more sleep reclaimed her.
“Who
the hell are you?”
The
accent was American, Riccardo heard it the instant the man spoke. He stayed
where he was, ignoring the stranger.
“Quiet!”
“I
want to know who he is and what the hell he’s doing at Jillian’s bedside!”
“It’s
thanks to Signor Bartolinni that she
is still breathing, Mr. Markham.”
“Bartolinni?”
Riccardo
knew the recognition, and he lifted Jillian’s hand to his lips, then placed it
back at her side. He rose and went to stand in front of the man Doctor Abruzzi had addressed as Markham
“I
will speak to you outside this room, Signor
Markham,” Riccardo told him, his voice leaving no room for argument.
“I
want to speak to Jill, not you.”
“Jillian
is resting,” Riccardo said, his look daring Markham
“She
needs quiet, Signor Markham,” Abruzzi
“Grazie.” He led the way down the
corridor, aware that Markham
“The
police were reporting her as a missing person until this morning,” Riccardo
said without pre-amble when they were in the office and the door was closed.
“Why was that? My driver returned her to the hotel where she was staying,
presumably with you.” He tried, but he couldn’t quite conceal his disdain when
he spoke the last few words.
“What’s
it to you?”
“I
have just found a young woman bleeding to death at a caffè in the early
hours of the morning,” Riccardo said with false patience. “A woman you
apparently think so little of that you leave her behind without a thought or
care to her safety.”
“Jill
moved out of my room,” Brad snapped. “We argued. I assumed she was waiting for
me to chase after her, and I didn’t.” He glared at Riccardo with no attempt to
veil his anger. “Why does this concern someone like you?”
“Someone
like me?” Riccardo’s smile was mocking. “Would that be a man who does not
abandon a woman he cares for, or are you referring to something else in my
character?” The sarcasm bled into each syllable, and Markham Markham Rome
“I’m
going to see Jill.”
“She
will not be able to travel for several weeks,” Riccardo told him. “Do you plan
to stay in Rome
“I
have a business to operate, Bartolinni!”
Riccardo
nodded and went to the desk. He wrote down an address, then handed it to Brad
Markham. “Have Signorina Light’s
things sent here. I’ll see that she’s cared for until she’s able to travel.”
Brad
took the paper and glanced at it. He looked up at Riccardo’s watchful
expression and laughed. The sound wasn’t pleasant, or the least bit friendly.
“Whatever
you think you’re going to get for your trouble, she’s not likely to be worth
it,” Brad declared. “Jillian’s a smart woman, but that’s all she’s got going
for her.”
The
conspiratorial tone rankled, and Riccardo’s temper ignited again so swiftly it
shocked him. He crossed the space between them and was eye to eye with the
other man before he could think about it.
“If
I see you here again, Signor
Markham,” he warned, voice dropping to a barely audible growl of contempt, “I
will see that your girlfriend is not the only loss you suffer as a result of
this.”
The
words were rash, but the intent was patent. Markham
Riccardo
picked up the phone and rescheduled the video shoot for the next morning, then
went to find his cousin. He knew she’d be in Jillian’s room, it would be like
Caterina to sit with the woman until his return.
* * * * *
So there is Chapter One - I'll look forward to hearing your thoughts on this one!!
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