The Tuscan's Revenge Wedding (Italian Billionaires #1)(49)
“What?”
“No,” she whispered. “It was — it was I.”
In the sudden silence, he was aware of the humming of the monitors at the head of the bed, as well as the sudden sharp breath Amanda took, there where she stood beside him.
“You were behind the wheel,” he said, though the word had no more meaning to his stunned mind than if she had said a newborn lamb had been driving.
Carita gave a slow nod. “I begged Jonathan to let me drive. He didn’t want to, not at all. He said to me that his car was too fast, too powerful. I became angry. I thought he did not trust me, and so—”
Amanda stirred, sighed. “So he gave in and let you have the driver’s seat.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes.”
Nico swallowed, shook his head. Jonathan Davies was not responsible for Carita’s injuries. Rather, she, his sister, was responsible for his broken leg, his bruised and dislocated shoulder and cracked ribs.
It required a major shift in his thinking to accept this fundamental change, yet it must be done. His obligations as a result were many and imperative, Nico saw plainly. Not the least of these was to acknowledge the wrong.
“I should not have jumped to conclusions,” he said to the man across the bed from him. “Please accept my sincere apology for assuming you were at fault. You should have said something to make the situation clear.”
“I was at fault,” Jonathan said with a moody shrug. “I should never have let her get behind the wheel.”
Such a rationale made perfect sense to Nico. It was how he would have felt himself. “Besides which,” he suggested, “you preferred not to direct the blame toward Carita when she could not defend herself — or so it may have appeared to her family.”
“Damned if I did, and damned if I didn’t.” Amanda’s brother lifted his good shoulder. “It looked as if no one would believe me, anyway.”
“Oh, Jonathan,” Amanda said softly then. “Even I thought you were driving. I am so sorry.”
“It was better that way,” he muttered. “The police — you know.”
Nico did know all too well. He had himself taught Carita to drive but she had no official permit nor had he provided her with an automobile. It was a considered decision, another incidence of his high-handed methods, as Amanda would no doubt tell him. The result, if the police had known Carita was driving, would have been a morass of red tape and almost certainly the filing of charges. If the tabloids had got hold of it, they’d have had a field day. No detail would have been missed, including Carita’s pregnancy. The embarrassment to the family would have been considerable.
He must make certain, first thing tomorrow, that nothing of it would ever appear on Jonathan Davies’ record; this Nico told himself in stern reminder. Meanwhile, there were other matters to be considered. Reaching for the call button, he summoned the nurse on duty and asked that Carita’s doctors attend upon them at once.
~ ~ ~
The sight of the villa as the limo rounded the curve was a relief beyond words. Amanda was so tired. It was not only the release from anxiety, both for Carita and for Jonathan’s part in the accident, but the trip home had been a huge strain. The only one who said a word was Carisa, still glorying in seeing her sister after so long a time, and the fact that Carita had awakened for her sake. Nico had been withdrawn, staring out the window with his gaze considering behind narrowed lids, as if immersed in plans of major importance. Not that Amanda had anything to say to him. She could barely stand to share the same space. All she wanted was to get away, to lie down somewhere and forget everything that had happened since the day they met.
It was ridiculous, then, that she could not ignore him, could not prevent herself from looking at him every time he moved or patiently answered some query from Carisa who sat between them on the wide seat. She had almost forgotten how disturbingly attractive he was in the few days he’d been away, and it struck her anew now that he was back. His eyes, his mouth, the dark waves of his hair, the width of his shoulders drew her gaze, causing a pulling sensation in her lower abdomen.
He had kissed her, held her, and eased his rigid length into her in intimate possession. She had pressed herself against him, bare skin to bare skin, reveling in his muscular hardness so different from her own body. She had traced the whorls of his ear with her tongue, brushed her mouth over the strong column of his neck there where it met his white collar, had spread her hands over his chest and kissed between her fingertips.
Dear heaven, she wanted to do it again. Even knowing why he had made love to her, she wanted him.
She had been wrong, she thought in self-derision, so wrong to think there was no such thing as overwhelming sexual attraction. She despised Nico de Frenza, of course she did, and could not wait to get away from him. Yet she feared what she might do if he looked at her with his hot black eyes and whispered to her in the deep velvet of his voice the single word that undid her.
“Come…”
“Come into my study,” he said as they entered the villa and Carisa ran to tell Yolanda about Carita. “We must talk.”
A small shudder ran over Amanda before she could suppress it. “I don’t believe we have anything left to say to each other.”
“I disagree. There is much to be said, much to be decided concerning Carita and Jonathan.” He moved to a door down the hall, pushed it open and stood aside. “If you please?”