Thankfully, Paolo seems unaware of my movement, still frowning as he looks at me.
“It is the police, Signora,” he says. “They wish to speak with you.”
“What?” I’m on my feet, the cup sloshing as I set it down hastily. “What do they want?”
What the fuck has Dad done now?
“They insisted on speaking to you, Signora Caraldi.”
I straighten my shoulders, fighting back a sense of doom as I head to the doorway. One of Raoul’s security guards has allowed two officers into the entrance hall, and they turn in unison at the sound of my footsteps.
“Mrs. Caraldi?” one of them says. Silver-haired and slightly grizzled, he wears his uniform like a man who’s done it for years.
“Yes?” I respond, trying not to falter as I move toward them. The younger of the two faces me, his hands fidgeting in front of him.
Fuck.
“Ma’am, we need to advise you of an incident. Is there somewhere we could speak privately?” the first one says, glancing at the men in the room, Paolo hovering at my side.
“We can speak here,” I say firmly, refusing to let myself waver.
Oh, Jesus…sweet Jesus…
The man’s eyes shift before meeting mine again. “I’m afraid there’s been an accident, Ma’am.”
“Dad?” I choke out. He frowns before shaking his head.
“Ma’am, I’m here to report that there was an explosion at one of your husband’s warehouses. Mr. Caraldi and several of his men were in the building at the time and—”
I don’t hear the rest of his words as my head starts that motherfucking spinning again. Darkness tightens its grip around me, and I feel Paolo’s hand close on my arm a moment before my knees buckle.
Chapter 4
Emma Caraldi
“Signora Caraldi… Signora!” I can hear Paolo’s voice coming in from a distance.
“No,” I groan in response.
He’s dead. Oh my God, he’s dead!
My mouth floods with saliva as another surge of nausea joins the dizziness.
Is this what my father was talking about?
‘Nobody will care if you’re a widow at 20.’
Please, God, don’t let him have done something to Raoul. We’ve barely been married for two weeks. I’m not ready to face this. There’s still so much to be said.
God. How can I hate him so much and yet be so shattered?
You don’t hate him, you twat. Just fucking admit it.
I groan again, feeling hands beneath my shoulders. I’m being lifted to a chair. At least, I think that’s what it is. Something is soft and pliant behind me. My eyes flutter open, and I look into the concerned faces of Paolo and the senior officer.
“Signora!” Paolo says urgently, his eyes filled with worry. Dammit. I’ve had so many lightheaded spells that it was only a matter of time before I fainted completely. And this news would undoubtedly trigger it.
“Raoul…” I hear myself moan. I swallow hard, trying to fight down the urge to dry heave. It’s been hours since I last ate, and bitter tea tangs in my mouth.
