Inherited By Ferranti. Kate Hewitt
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not wanting to attract attention to herself; she had no idea if anyone was in residence. Arturo had installed a housekeeper when she’d lived here with her mother, a beady-eyed old woman who had been her father’s henchman and spy. If she was still here, Sierra had no wish to attract her attention.
In the distance the ghostly white marble headstones of the Rocci family plot appeared through the stormy gloom like silent, still ghosts, and Sierra’s breath caught in her throat as she approached. She knew where her mother’s marker lay, in the far corner; it was the only one that hadn’t been there when she’d left.
Violet Rocci, Beloved Wife
She stared at the four words written starkly on the tombstone until they blurred and she blinked back tears. Beloved mother, yes, but wife? Had her father loved her mother at all? Sierra knew Violet believed so, but Sierra wanted to believe love was better and bigger than that. Love didn’t hurt, didn’t punish or belittle. She wanted to believe that, but she didn’t know if she could. She certainly had no intention of taking the risk of finding out for herself.
‘Ti amo, Mamma,’ she whispered, and rested her hand on top of the cool marble. She’d missed her mother so much over these past seven years. Although she’d written Violet a few letters over the years, her mother had discouraged contact, fearing for Sierra’s safety. The few letters she’d had were precious and all too rare, and had stopped completely well before Violet’s illness.
She drew a deep breath and willed the tears away. She wouldn’t cry now. There had been enough sadness already. Another deep breath and her composure was restored, as she needed it to be. Cloak herself in coolness, keep the feelings at bay. She turned away from the little cemetery plot and started walking back towards her car. She hoped Violet Rocci was at peace now, safe from her husband’s cruelty. It was the smallest comfort, but the only one she could cling to now.
Thunder rumbled and forked lightning split the sky as the first heavy raindrops fell. Sierra ducked her head and started hurrying back to the section of wall she’d climbed over. She didn’t want to be caught in a downpour, and neither did she relish the drive back down the steep mountain roads in this weather.
She climbed over the wall and hurried through the stand of pines, the branches snagging on her blouse and hair as the rain fell steadily, soaking her. Within seconds her pink silk blouse was plastered to her skin and her hair fell out of its chignon in wet rat’s tails.
She cursed under her breath, thankful to emerge from the trees, only to have her insides freeze as she caught sight of a second car, a dark SUV, parked behind her own. As she came onto the road the door to the car opened, and an all too familiar figure emerged.
Marco Ferranti strode towards her, his white dress shirt soon soaked under the downpour so every well-defined muscle was outlined in glorious detail. Sierra flicked her gaze upwards, but the anger she saw snapping in his eyes, the hard set of his mouth and jaw, made her insides quell and she looked away. The rain was sheeting down now and she stopped a few feet from him, sluicing rainwater from her face.
‘So.’ Marco’s voice was hard, without a shred of warmth. ‘What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing here?’
SIERRA DREW A deep breath and pushed the sodden mass of her hair away from her face. ‘I was paying my respects.’ She tried to move past him to her car but he blocked her way. ‘What are you doing here?’ she challenged, even though inside she felt weak and shaky with fear. Here was the real man Marco had hidden from her before, the angry, menacing man who loomed above her like a dark shadow, fierce and threatening. But, just as with her father, she wouldn’t show her fear to this man.
‘It’s my home,’ Marco informed her. ‘As of today.’
She recoiled at that, at the triumph she heard in his tone. He was glad he’d got it all, and that she’d got almost nothing. Of course he was. ‘I hope you enjoy it then,’ she bit out, and his mouth curved in an unpleasant smile.
‘I’m sure I will. But you were trespassing on private property, you do realise?’
She shook her head, stunned by the depth of his anger and cruelty. So this was the true face of the man she’d once thought of marrying. ‘I’m leaving anyway.’
‘Not so fast.’ He grabbed her arm, his powerful fingers encircling her wrist, making her go utterly still. The commanding touch was so familiar and instinctively she braced herself for a blow. But it didn’t come; Marco simply stared at her, and it took Sierra a moment to realise the fingers around her wrist were actually exerting only a gentle pressure.
‘I want to know why you were here.’
‘I told you,’ she bit out. ‘To pay my respects.’
‘Did you go inside the villa?’
She stared at him, nonplussed. ‘No.’
‘How do I know that? You might have stolen something.’
She let out an incredulous laugh. If she’d had any doubts about whether jilting Marco Ferranti had been the right thing to do, he was dispelling them with dizzying speed.
‘What on earth do you think I stole?’ She shook his hand off her wrist and spread her arms wide. ‘Where would I hide it?’ She saw Marco’s gaze flick down to her breasts and too late she realised the white lace bra she wore was visible through the soaked, near-transparent silk. Sierra kept her head held high with effort.
‘I can’t be sure of anything when it comes to you, except that you can’t be trusted.’
‘Did you follow me all the way from Palermo?’
His jaw tightened. ‘I wanted to know where you were going.’
‘Well, now you know. And now I’m going back to Palermo.’ She started to move away but Marco stilled her with one outflung hand. He nodded towards the steep, curving road that led down the mountain.
‘The road will be impassable now with flash flooding. You might as well come into the villa until it is over.’
‘And you’ll frisk me for any possible stolen goods?’ Sierra finished. ‘I’ll take my chances with the flooding.’
‘Don’t be stupid.’ Marco’s voice was harsh, dismissive, reminding her so much of her father. Clearly, he’d decided to emulate his mentor.
‘I’m not being stupid,’ she snapped. ‘I mean every word I say.’
‘You’d rather risk serious injury or even death than come into a dry house with me?’ Marco’s mouth twisted. ‘What did I ever do to deserve such disgust?’
‘You just accused me of stealing.’
‘I simply wanted to know why you were here.’
Above them an ear-splitting crack of thunder sounded, making Sierra jump. She was completely soaked and unfortunately she knew Marco spoke the truth. The roads would be truly impassable, most likely for some time.
‘Fine,’ she said ungraciously and got into her car.
Marco unlocked the gates with the remote control in his car, and they swung silently back, revealing the villa’s long, curving drive.
Taking a deep breath, Sierra drove up with Marco following like her jailer. As soon as his car had passed, the gates swung closed again, locking her inside.
She parked in front of the villa and turned off the engine, reluctant to get out and face Marco again. And to face all the unwelcome memories that crowded her brain and heart. Coming back to Sicily had been a very bad idea.
Her door jerked open and Marco stood there, glowering at her. ‘Are you going to get out of your car?’
‘Yes, of course.’ She climbed out, conscious of his nearness, of the animosity rolling off him even though he’d sounded