Falling For Her Italian Billionaire. Annie Claydon
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a little groggy for a while.’
‘What drug?’ Clara hesitated and he reached for the call button at the side of the bed. ‘If you won’t tell me...’
‘All right.’ The last thing she wanted was any contact with the doctors and nurses, beyond what was medically necessary. The fewer people who remembered him being here the better. ‘Flunitrazepam.’
His hand moved to his face, massaging his temples with his fingers and thumb, as if he was trying to get his brain to work.
‘It’s not possible to inadvertently ingest flunitrazepam. It’s manufactured with a blue dye these days, with the specific aim of making it difficult to slip into someone’s drink.’ His fingers wandered to his throat as a thought seemed to occur to him.
‘You have a sore throat? That’s because you were given activated charcoal last night by feeding tube. Your friends, Dr and Mrs Goodman, were with you the whole time, until I arrived.’ Clara tried to reassure him. The uncomfortable realisation that something had happened last night and he had no memory of it was going to dawn on him any moment now.
‘I remember... I think. I was going to Grant and Sara’s place for dinner. Where are they?’
‘They’re at home. Sleeping, I imagine, I didn’t arrive here until four in the morning.’
‘And what exactly is your part in this, Clara?’
He was rapidly coming to his senses. She was no longer the angel with the beautiful hair, she was someone who had to justify her presence to him. It was almost a disappointment, but in professional terms it was probably just as well. Clara reached into her bag for the bundle of identification papers.
‘I work for Gladstone and Sullivan Securities. You recognise the name...?’
‘Of course. My father’s company has used you for years.’ He frowned suddenly. ‘Please tell me I haven’t done anything that requires that level of discretion.’
‘You’ve done nothing wrong.’ Clara handed him the documents. The answer to the question of why exactly he needed security was an awkward one and should probably wait until he was recovered enough to handle it.
He flipped open her passport, glancing at it, and then took his time reading the faxed letter of introduction. ‘My father sent this at two in the morning. Clearly he thinks the situation is serious.’ Gabriel came straight to the realisation that Clara was hoping he’d overlook.
‘I’m sure you must know that anything connected with your well-being is considered serious.’ Clara skirted the issue. ‘The two most important things for you to know are who I am, and that I have the situation fully under control.’
‘I’d prefer it if I had the situation fully under control. And since you’re obviously leaving out a few important details, I think the next thing I need to do is to get out of here and find someone who will tell me what’s going on.’
Clara’s clients fell broadly into two categories. The ones who didn’t want to know, and those who wanted to know everything. She generally preferred the latter, but it brought different challenges, and it was clear that Gabriel DeMarco had decided to be as challenging as possible.
‘I’ll be happy to tell you everything. We have a hotel suite for you nearby—’
‘What’s the matter with my house? Not fallen down during the night, has it?’
‘No, your house is fine...’
‘Good. I’m fine and so is my house.’ He shot her a look that left her under no illusions that he’d believe her reassurances a little better when he had concrete proof. ‘So I’m sure you won’t have any objections to my going there.’
Clara took a breath. ‘I’d advise—’
‘No, you don’t get to do that. I’m going home and if you want to accompany me and tell me exactly what’s going on, you’re welcome to do so. Then you can advise me and I’ll decide whether to take that advice.’
He sat up slowly, reaching for the controls for the bed. He must still be feeling very groggy, but that wasn’t going to stop him.
‘All right. I have a car outside, and we’ll take you there.’
‘Okay, thanks. I’ll take a shower and get dressed...’ He waited, obviously expecting Clara to leave the room.
‘Let me help you.’
‘I can manage...’
‘And I’m tasked with your safety, Dr DeMarco. Letting you fall over and crack your head open on the bathroom floor isn’t anywhere on my agenda.’
The thought of telling him that she doubted he had anything she hadn’t already seen hundreds of times before leapt to the tip of her tongue and stopped there. The flimsy hospital gown couldn’t disguise a pair of strong shoulders. Gabriel DeMarco had a good physique, made even better by dark hair and melting brown eyes in a face made proud by high cheekbones. She doubted if she’d seen anything quite like him before.
He smiled slowly. ‘That’s a bit more like it. We’ll get along far better if you’re straight with me. And while you’re about it, call me Gabriel. I have a feeling that knowing more about my last sixteen hours than I do justifies first names.’
‘Very well.’ Clara opened the small wardrobe behind her chair and took out a hospital dressing gown. Gabriel operated the controls on the bed, getting to his feet slowly and pulling the dressing gown on, tying it firmly at the waist. He took a couple of steps and then waved her away.
‘Good enough for you?’
‘No, you look a little unsteady.’ If he wanted honesty, that was exactly what she’d give him.
‘How’s this, then?’ He walked across the room, obviously making an effort to pull himself out of the cloying arms of the drug. ‘While you’re giving me a little privacy you can go and ask the doctor if he can prescribe something for this headache.’
He rattled off a list of painkillers and anti-emetics. He must feel pretty awful.
‘Or I could tell him that you have a headache and that you feel sick, and see what he suggests.’ Most doctors didn’t much like their patients telling them what to prescribe.
‘I’ll leave you to phrase the request tactfully.’ He gave Clara a brisk farewell nod, which indicated that her next move was to leave the room and close the door behind her.
* * *
When he’d been lying down, Gabriel’s main concern had been to get Clara out of the room before he asked her into the shower with him to scrub his back. He felt a lot more in control of himself now, but it was impossible to tell whether the effects of the flunitrazepam might loosen his tongue again. Or the effects of Clara Holt’s dazzling blue eyes.
As soon as he was on his feet, though, another reason for wanting to be alone asserted itself. The pounding in his head became almost unbearable, and as soon as the door closed behind her, he rushed into the bathroom. His stomach was empty but still it twisted into knots as he fell to his knees, retching violently.
Shaking, and covered in a cold sweat, he got to his feet, flushing away the evidence. Gabriel rinsed his mouth, trying to get rid of the taste left by the charcoal, and looked at his reflection in the mirror. Why did he have to meet the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen today, of all days?
But Clara Holt wasn’t just a beautiful woman. She had the answer to a number of key questions. He’d take this slow and steady. One thing at a time. And the first thing was to have a shower and get dressed.
* * *
He didn’t remember selecting the clothes that were folded neatly on a chair, and was reasonably sure he wouldn’t have put that shirt with those trousers. Perhaps Grant and Sara had been back to his house, they had a spare key.