Drago had walked across the spacious sitting room to stand by the window. The view of the leafy suburb of Hampstead was charming. Glancing around the room, he was impressed with the excellent quality of the décor and furnishings, which reinforced his opinion that Jess Harper must have a lucrative career to be able to afford this stylish apartment.
He turned his head and it seemed to Jess his black eyes bored into her very soul. ‘It happened in Italy,’ he said flatly. ‘On the highway between the airport and Venice. I assume Angelo was coming home, but he never made it. He’s being cared for at a hospital in Mestre, which is on the mainland of Venice.’
His phone buzzed and he looked down at the screen. ‘I’ve had a message to say that my plane has been refuelled. Can you be ready to leave for the airport in five minutes?’
CHAPTER TWO
‘AIRPORT!’ AS THE meaning of Drago Cassari’s words slowly sank in Jess shook her head. ‘I can’t go to Venice!’
In a minute she would wake up and find she’d been having a crazy dream, she thought dazedly. Maybe the six double-shot espressos she’d drunk during the day instead of eating a proper lunch were causing her to have strange hallucinations—because this could not be happening.
‘Don’t you care about Angelo? I thought you had a close relationship with him.’
Drago’s harsh voice broke the silence, forcing Jess to accept that he was not a figment of her imagination.
‘Of course I care that he’s hurt,’ she said quickly. ‘But I wouldn’t say that we have a close relationship, exactly. I’ve only known him since he started working for me about two months ago.’
‘He worked for you?’ It was Drago’s turn to look puzzled. ‘What kind of work? I was informed that you are a painter.’ Into his mind flashed a startling image of his cousin posing for her. ‘Did Angelo model for you?’
‘Hardly,’ Jess said drily. Crossing the room, she took a business card from the desk and handed it to him. ‘I paint houses, Mr Cassari, not masterpieces.’
The card read ‘T&J Decorators’ and gave a phone number and a website address. Drago glanced at it and then looked back Jess, struck once again by her petite stature and fragile build. The notion that she was a manual labourer was ridiculous.
‘Do you mean you are an interior designer for this decorating company? Or do you deal with office administration? I find it hard to believe that you actually paint walls for a living.’
Jess was irritated by the note of disdain she was sure she heard in his voice. ‘I do some general decorating, but as a matter of fact I’m a trained chippie—a carpenter,’ she explained when he frowned. ‘I also act as site foreman and make sure that my workmen finish their contracts on time and follow safety procedures.’
His black brows lifted. ‘It seems an unusual career choice for a woman.’
She was tempted to tell him that very few careers were available to someone who had flunked school and failed to gain any academic qualifications. She would have loved to train to be an interior designer, but most people working in the industry had an art degree, and she had more chance of flying to the moon than going to university.
‘And you’re saying that you employed Angelo as a decorator?’ Now Drago’s tone was sceptical. ‘Why would he choose to work as a labourer when he belongs to one of the wealthiest families in Italy?’
‘You tell me.’ The situation was growing more bizarre by the minute, Jess thought. ‘I took him on because I was short of staff. To be honest he was pretty hopeless at decorating, but he said he had no money and nowhere to live and I felt sorry for him. I told him he could stay with me until he could afford to rent his own place.’
Drago’s expression became blatantly cynical. ‘Why would you do that for someone you barely knew?’
‘Because I know what it’s like to reach rock-bottom.’ Unbeknown to Jess her eyes darkened to deep jade as she recalled the despair she had once felt. There had been a time when she had felt she had nothing to live for—until her wonderful foster-parents had given her a home and a future.
She had sensed despair in Angelo and had wanted to help him as she had been helped by Margaret and Ted Robbins. But now she felt a fool. Why had he made up all that stuff about being poor and homeless when, according to Drago Cassari, Angelo came from a wealthy family?
She stared at Angelo’s cousin, her mind reeling. ‘How do you know about me?’ she demanded, unsettled by his statement that he had been given information about her. It almost sounded as though he had asked someone to investigate her. The situation was so unreal that anything seemed possible.
He gave a noncommittal shrug. ‘Angelo spoke about you to his mother, and obviously he gave her the address of where he was living in London.
‘Oh…yes, I suppose he would have done.’
Drago studied Jess Harper speculatively for a few moments. He had no intention of revealing that he knew Angelo had given her money. He did not understand what was going on, and until he had more facts he did not want to give away too much. He checked his watch. ‘We need to be going.’
‘I’m sorry, but I can’t go with you.’ Jess bit her lip. She felt terrible about Angelo, but disappearing off to Italy simply wasn’t an option. ‘I have a business to run—we’re behind schedule on our current contract and I can’t—’
‘He spoke your name.’ Drago cut her off in a driven voice. His accent was suddenly very pronounced, as if he was struggling to control his emotions. ‘This morning Angelo roused very briefly and he asked for you.’
He walked towards her, his midnight-dark eyes never leaving her face. ‘You might be his best hope of recovery. Hearing your voice might be the key that will release him from his prison and bring him back to his family.’
Jess swallowed. ‘Mr Cassari…’
‘Drago,’ he said huskily. ‘You are Angelo’s friend, so I think we should dispense with formalities.’
He halted in front of her and Jess had to tilt her head to look up at his face. She felt overwhelmed by his height and sheer physical presence. Her heart slammed against her ribs when he laid a finger lightly across her lips to prevent her from speaking.
‘Please, Jess. Angelo needs you. I need you to come with me. I think of him as my brother, even my son—for since his father died I have tried to be a father to him.’
Dear heaven, how could she refuse such a heartfelt entreaty? The raw emotion in Drago’s voice made Jess’s heart ache. Only a few days ago she had listened to Angelo playing his guitar, but now he was fighting for his life. She thought of Daniel, who had never regained consciousness. Surely if there was a chance she could help Angelo she must try?
Her common sense argued that she would be crazy to agree to go away with a man she had never met before, but she was haunted by the image of Daniel the last time she had seen him. He had died a few hours after her visit. She hadn’t been allowed to attend his funeral—the head of the care home had decided it would be too upsetting—and so she had never had a chance to say goodbye.
‘All
