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She raised her head off Vi’s collarbone so fast, her cheekbone connected sharply with the chiseled jaw. Pain radiated across Chiara’s face, and Vi lifted her hand to cradle her own chin. Chiara did not even yelp but wanted to reach out to touch the bruise that would surely form on the beloved features. Still, she had to know.
“What do you mean?” Her voice rose a few octaves, the higher pitch somehow sounding even more awful than she felt.
“They’ve been sneaking around pretty much since the day Arabella hired me to do the shoot. I caught them in the Poise offices when I stopped by to sign my contract.”
Vi’s matter-of-fact tone still did nothing to soothe Chiara’s frayed nerves.
“But why didn’t she tell me?”
“Renate.” The name did not sound like a question, but a statement of fact. “I always thought she didn’t share easily. I’m not entirely certain that it has anything to do with you. And Arabella is so smitten, it’s rather endearing. I think it’s serious between them, so it’s possible Renate was taking her time with it?”
“Serious between them…” Among the anxiety of what was awaiting them at the hospital, Chiara felt a sudden touch of elation. Her lips stretched, a strange sensation, like her body was moving without her express command. But she was smiling, and Vi’s own smile answered her tentatively. Chiara leaned closer and kissed it, that sweet, sweet corner of the full mouth lifting with shyness and hope. And then she kissed the reddening spot on the sharp pale jaw.
“And Arabella is smitten? How do you know?”
“She really is. It’s very sweet. Such a tough old dame—”
“Hey, hey easy on the mature people there, baby!”
Vi’s smile grew wider, a flash of white teeth gleaming at Chiara with mischief, as the hold on her hand changed, turning more intimate, fingers linking.
“She was the second person to save me. Arabella took one look at Benedict’s dilemma about what to do with me, and proclaimed me her personal project. I always suspected she knew exactly who my parents were and what they did, their reputation preceding them, as always.”
“Vi—”
“Hey, it’s okay. Renate did hire a private investigator to keep Lilien Haus safe from my name alone. And all things considered, Zizou did not step one foot wrong. After all, what happened was something nobody could have predicted. Nobody but me, if only I was smarter.” She gulped and soldiered on. “When this is over, you and I have things to talk about. I lied to you that morning in Paris. I don’t deserve anything, but you do deserve to know—”
“Shhh…” Chiara murmured and then decided that it was by far not enough of a gesture to stop this barrage of words that seemed absolutely superfluous right now. And not only because the hospital was coming into view, but also in light of all the revelations tonight. Trust either worked or it didn’t, and Chiara’s simply did. And that was enough.
So, for the second time within the last few minutes, she pressed her lips onto Vi’s. She chose to ignore that the sensuous mouth tasted of pain this time.
They both ignored that metallic taste, and the car stopped right before Chiara could deepen the kiss. So she closed her eyes, forehead to forehead with Vi, and took a deep breath, feeling Vi do the same.Just one more second.
Once again, the driver opened the door for them and then they were running.
* * *
Arabella’s connectionsat Presbyterian proved to be legendary. They didn’t even need to introduce themselves. One word, and a tall, stooping man in his sixties with a dignified, if tired, expression gestured for them to accompany him. Someone addressed him as they passed the nurses’ station and he simply waved them away, Chiara barely catching the nurse’s awed, “…someone important since the Administrator is ferrying people around.”
“Arabella is a huge donor.” Vi didn’t bother to keep her voice as quiet as the nurse’s, since the man stopped in front of the bank of elevators and dipped his head.
“We are very grateful for Ms. Archibald Avant’s generosity. This way, please. I’m afraid I will not be able to go into the ICU with you, as we are limiting the number of people permitted… Nosocomial infections… You understand.”
Chiara nodded numbly. Her breath became shallow and threaded at the mention of the ICU. The Administrator escorted them up to the fifth floor. Within seconds, a nurse in a full ICU garb handed them gowns before taking them through a blindingly bright hallway. Soon, they stood in front of a glass wall, and behind it, hooked up to monitors and endless IVs, lay Renate.
Arabella sat by the bed, her head bent and face hidden in shadows. Chiara hiccuped and suddenly her cheeks were wet, tears falling freely, so fast she wasn’t able to catch them.
They must have made a sound, because behind the glass, Arabella lifted her head, and the exhausted eyes closed with, dare Chiara sayrelief? And why relief? Surely not because Renate was dying and Arabella was afraid that Chiara would not make it in time?
Ti prego, Dio…
She so rarely asked anything of the almighty anymore.
A hand that used to be bejeweled, extended and beckoned them in. For some reason, the bony fingers, unadorned with the customary gold and gems, made Chiara’s throat tighten.
Please, please…
But as the door opened to allow them passage, Renate’s eyes opened, and Chiara felt the air whoosh out of her lungs. The pale blue gaze was clear, sharp as always, and when her former sister-in-law spoke, the voice was quiet, yet firm.
