stemmed from her break up with Angelo. Natalie hadn’t had the heart to put Isabel straight. As close as she was to her, she had never told Isabel about the circumstances surrounding Liam’s death.
Natalie heard a car pull up outside her house. Her stomach did another somersault and a clammy sweat broke out over her brow. She walked to the door on legs that felt like wet cotton wool. It wasn’t a uniformed driver standing there but Angelo himself.
‘I … I just have to get my bag …’ she said, brushing a loose strand of sticky hair back behind her ear.
Angelo narrowed his gaze. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I’m fine,’ she said, averting her eyes.
He put a hand on her shoulder and turned her to look at him. ‘You’re deathly pale,’ he said. ‘Are you ill?’
Natalie swallowed the gnarly knot of panic in her throat. ‘I have some pills to take.’ She rummaged in her bag for the anxiety medication her doctor had prescribed. ‘I won’t be a minute.’
She went to the kitchen for a glass of water and Angelo followed her. He took the packet of pills from her and read the label. ‘Do you really need to take these?’ he asked.
‘Give them to me,’ she said, reaching for them. ‘I should’ve taken them an hour ago.’
He frowned as he handed them to her. ‘Do you take them regularly?’
She shook her head as she swallowed a couple of pills. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Only in an emergency.’
He was still frowning as he led her out to the car. ‘When did you develop your fear of flying?’ he asked.
‘Ages ago,’ she said.
‘What caused it?’ he asked. ‘Rough turbulence or a mid-air incident?’
She shrugged. ‘Can’t remember.’
His dark gaze searched hers. ‘When was the last time you flew?’
‘Can we get going?’ she asked. ‘I don’t want to fall asleep in the car. You’ll have to carry me on board.’
Angelo glanced at Natalie every now and again as he drove to the airport. She was not quite so pale now the medication had settled her nerves, but she still looked fragile. Her cheeks looked hollow, as if she had recently lost weight, and her eyes were shadowed.
Her concern over her brother was well founded. He had struck a deal with Lachlan, but already Lachlan was pushing against the boundaries Angelo had set in place. The staff at a very expensive private rehab clinic had called him three times in the last week to inform him about Lachlan’s erratic and at times uncontrollable behaviour. He had organised a therapist to have extra sessions with him, but so far there had been no miraculous breakthrough. It seemed Lachlan Armitage was a very angry young man, hell-bent on self-destruction.
Speaking with Natalie’s father had made Angelo realise how frustrating it must be to have a child who, no matter how much you loved and provided for him, refused to co-operate. Adrian Armitage had hinted at similar trouble with Natalie. Apparently her stubborn streak had caused many a scene in the Armitage household over the years. In spite of all of her father’s efforts to get close to her she had wilfully defied him whenever she could. Angelo wondered if it was a cultural thing. He had been brought up strictly, but fairly. His parents had commanded respect, but they had more than earned it with their dedication and love for him. He hoped to do the same for his own children one day.
He turned off the engine once he had parked and gently touched Natalie on the shoulder. ‘Hey, sleepyhead,’ he said. ‘Time to get going.’
She blinked and sat up straighter. ‘Oh … Right …’
He put an arm around her waist as he led her on board his private jet a short time later. She was agitated and edgy, but he managed to get her to take a seat and put the belt on.
‘Can I have a drink?’ she asked.
‘Sure,’ he said. ‘What would you like?’
‘White wine,’ she said.
‘Are you sure it’s a good idea to combine alcohol with those pills?’ he asked.
She gave him a surly look. ‘I’m not a child.’
‘No, but you’re under my protection,’ he said. ‘I don’t want you getting ill, or losing consciousness or something.’
She started chewing her nails as the pilot pulled back. Angelo took her hand away from her mouth and covered it with his. ‘You’ll be fine, cara,’ he said. ‘You were in far more danger driving to the airport than you ever will be in the air.’
She shifted restively, her eyes darting about like a spooked thoroughbred’s. ‘I want to get off,’ she said. ‘Please—can you tell the pilot to stop? I want to get off.’
Angelo put his arm around her and brought her close against him. ‘Shh, mia piccola,’ he soothed. ‘Concentrate on your breathing. In and out. In and out. That’s right. Nice and slow.’
She squeezed her eyes shut and lowered her head to his chest. He stroked the silk of her hair, talking to her in the same calm voice. It took a lot longer than he expected but finally she relaxed against him. She slept for most of the journey and only woke up just as they were coming to land in Rome.
‘There,’ he said. ‘You did it. That wasn’t so bad, was it?’
She nodded vaguely and brushed the hair back off her face. ‘Have I got time to use the bathroom?’
‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Do you want me to come with you?’
Her cheeks pooled with colour. ‘No, thank you.’
He gave her a mocking smile. ‘Maybe next time, si?’
The press had obviously been given a tip-off somewhere between their arrival at the airport and Angelo’s family villa in Rome. Natalie watched in dismay as photographers surged towards Angelo’s chauffeur-driven car.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said as he helped her out of the car. ‘I’ll handle their questions.’
Within a few moments Angelo had managed to satisfy the press’s interest and sent them on their way.
An older man opened the front door of the villa and greeted Angelo. ‘Your parents are in the salon, Signor Bellandini.’
‘Grazie, Pasquale,’ he said. ‘Natalie, this is Pasquale. He has been working for my family for many years.’
‘I’m very pleased to meet you,’ Natalie said.
‘Welcome,’ Pasquale said. ‘It is very nice to see Signor Bellandini happy at last.’
‘Come,’ Angelo said, guiding her with a hand resting in the curve of her back. ‘My parents will be keen to meet you.’
If they were so keen, why hadn’t they been at the door to greet her instead of the elderly servant? Natalie
