forgotten a face and a body like that.’
‘Then let me jog your memory,’ Nico’s expression darkened. ‘She was Lucia’s friend at school. Remember the shy little mouse who we thought might have a stabilising influence on our dizzy sister?’
Carlo’s eyes narrowed. ‘Vaguely. What about her?’
‘And do you remember what happened two years ago?’ Nico’s tone was lethally soft. ‘Lucia came to me with a sob story about a friend who couldn’t have children.’
Carlo frowned. ‘Yes, I remember that. The woman was in her late thirties and her husband was infertile and—’ He broke off and his eyes travelled from his brother’s icy expression to the photo in the file. ‘Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting? This is never the same girl.’
‘It’s the same girl,’ Nico growled softly. ‘As you can see, Lucia’s friend wasn’t in her late thirties or happily married.’
Carlo winced. ‘I’m beginning to understand your interest. If my memory serves me correctly, that was the one and only occasion that we’ve managed to persuade you to be a donor for my clinic.’
Nico’s jaw tightened. ‘Fathering children indiscriminately with no say in their upbringing has never appealed to me, as you well know.’
Carlo held his gaze. ‘But you agreed to do it for Lucia’s friend.’
Nico dragged long fingers through his luxuriant black hair and gave a growl of anger and frustration. ‘Dio, I was totally taken in by her sob story—how her friend’s husband couldn’t father children and how devastated they were….’
Carlo stared at the file. ‘And you really think that this is the same woman?’
Nico’s mouth tightened. ‘I know it is.’
Carlo let out a long breath. ‘Well, if you’re right, it certainly seems as though our little sister might have been economical with the truth,’ he observed, his eyes fixed on the photograph in the file. ‘She looks nearer twenty than forty.’
‘She’s twenty-four,’ Nico ground out, ‘but she was twenty-two when she came to your clinic—twenty-two.’ His voice was raw as he emphasised the words. ‘And she has never been married.’
‘I didn’t see her, Nico.’ Carlo put the file down, his expression serious. ‘Come to think of it, I think I was due to see her but then there was a family crisis and she had to see one of my colleagues instead.’
‘That was cleverly arranged,’ Nico said bitterly. ‘Who do you think engineered the family crisis that kept you away from the clinic that day?’
Carlo pulled a face. ‘Lucia?’
‘If Abby Harrington had seen you personally, you might have refused to go ahead—at least with me as the donor.’
Carlo nodded. ‘Because I would have known that you wouldn’t agree to be a donor for a single girl.’
‘But the doctor who eventually saw her didn’t know that,’ Nico concluded, his mouth set in a grim line. ‘I suspect that Lucia had him wound round her little finger as she did the rest of us.’
Carlo shook his head in disbelief. ‘She certainly thought it through.’
‘If our little sister applied the same degree of thought and deviousness to a useful career then she might stop wasting her life,’ Nico observed acidly. ‘We all know what Lucia is like when she wants something. She is manipulative and persuasive and she can be very, very difficult to resist. Dio, even knowing her as I do, I agreed to be the donor in her little scheme.’
Carlo fingered the file, his handsome face troubled. ‘So how did you get this information? You know we have strict rules about confidentiality at the clinic. How can you be sure that this is your baby?’
Nico tensed and a hint of colour touched his incredible cheekbones. ‘You know how strongly I feel about family. I wanted to check on the baby I fathered.’ A muscle moved in his jaw. ‘I knew you wouldn’t give me the information I needed so I hired a private detective.’
Carlo frowned. ‘But you didn’t even have the girl’s name. He wouldn’t have been able to—’
‘He’s the best,’ Nico interrupted smoothly. ‘He found her. That’s all you need to know.’
‘And have you spoken to Lucia?’
‘Not yet.’ Nico’s expression was grim. ‘I’m going to see Abby Harrington first. Then I’ll deal with Lucia.’
Carlo let out a long breath. ‘Well, don’t be too hard on our little sister. You’re pretty strict with her, Nico.’
‘If I detected the slightest evidence of common sense, I’d cease to be strict,’ Nico said wearily, and Carlo nodded.
‘I know—she’s a total airhead and if it weren’t for you she’d have come off the rails years ago because our father’s too busy to notice her.’ He closed the file and handed it back to his brother. ‘I can’t imagine how she thought she’d get away with it but I suppose there was a chance that you wouldn’t find out the truth about Abby Harrington.’
‘Evidently.’ Nico’s voice was clipped. ‘Both of them must have assumed that I’d never follow it up.’
Carlo sat back in his chair, his dark eyes reflecting his concern. ‘So now what?’
There was a tense silence and when Nico finally spoke his voice was hoarse. ‘I want that baby.’
There was a deathly silence and for endless seconds Carlo didn’t move.
Finally he spoke, his voice urgent. ‘You can’t do that, Nico.’
‘It’s my child.’
‘I know that.’ Carlo’s eyes were fixed on his brother’s face. ‘And I also know what that knowledge must be doing to you in the light of what’s happened to you since that baby was conceived. Nico, you’ve never really talked about it, but you know that if you want to—’
‘I don’t.’ Nico’s tone held a cold finality. ‘I just want to talk about this girl.’
‘We both know that it is one and the same subject.’ Carlo said carefully. ‘I know how strongly you feel about family but we both know that there’s more to this than—’
‘That’s enough!’ Nico’s eyes were hard as he stared at his brother. ‘This isn’t about me. It’s about her. And the child. My child. I feel a responsibility towards that baby, which is why I decided to check on how the family was getting on.’
‘I can imagine how you must be feeling, but you agreed to be the father,’ Carlo reminded him, and Nico lifted a hand to cut him off, his expression menacing.
‘For a happily married couple. Not for a young, single girl with no financial or emotional support. I never would have agreed to father a child for a penniless schoolgirl!’
‘She was twenty-two.’
