The Fall Of Jacob Del Garda (26 page)

They wouldn't let him see her.

Nico couldn't help but remember the last time he'd sat in the exact same spot watching the same fucking clock on the wall.

Why was it all hospitals smelled the same?

Why was it people spoke in hushed tones?

Why was it he was sitting here again and wondering if the woman who was his life was going to make it?

The E.R. team were working on her, doing everything they could to save his wife and to save their baby. If he lived to be a hundred, he'd never forget the moment when the medic told them that they would do everything within their power to save mother and baby, but Bronte's life must be their priority and then he'd asked Nico to sign the consent form.

Without hesitation, Nico had signed and then staggered to the toilet to throw up his lunch. He was splashing cold water on his face, when Jacob entered and moved to turn on the tap at the sink. And that was when he noticed the Spaniard was washing blood off his hands.

At the way he went utterly still and the look on his face, Jacob shook his head.

"The blood belongs to Gabriella. She had a nose bleed."

"She was hurt?"

"Just cuts and bruises from being thrown into the ditch."

Nico held his head in his hands, he would never ever be able to repay Oscar and Gabriella's acts of bravery.

Jacob threw a strong arm around his shoulder and Nico accepted the unconditional support. He'd nearly lost her.
Cristo
, his wife could have been burned alive. And that was when Nico broke.

Then he felt Jacob grab his head between his big hands and force him to look at him.

"She is alive, Nico. Do not torture yourself with what might have been."

He was correct. Now was not the time to fall apart.

"Fuck. You are right."

"Oscar was already pulling her out when we arrived. He was amazing."

Nico swiped a hand over his wet face, and nodded.

"
Si
, he is
la mia famiglia
."

Now, hours later, Nico could only be grateful to friends who'd refused to leave him alone.

Oscar sat talking in hushed tones to Joshua, who'd arrived to reassure Nico that Janine and the Ferranti nanny had everything at the house under control. Jacob and Gabriella were cuddling in a corner, his friend had his fiancée sitting on his knee.

Andy Bradshaw's wife, Susan, was the paramedic who'd looked after Bronte on the way to the hospital, and she entered the waiting room, took a look around.

When she spotted Nico, she moved to sit next to him.

"How are you holding up?" she asked.

"I will be better when I know they are alive and well."

Susan took his ice cold hand in both of hers.

"In the ambulance, she was in and out of consciousness. She told me to tell you she loved you."

Nico turned to look her in the eye. "The baby?"

Susan's steady eyes met his gaze. "The baby's heartbeat had slowed, Nico. They're working hard to find the source of the bleeding. Please try to believe that Bronte is in the very best place. The airbags deployed. There is no doubt they saved her life, but airbags can do a lot of damage, too. She's pretty battered and bruised, but no bones were broken."

Jacob handed him what passed as a cup of coffee, but Nico shook his head, so his friend sat down next to him.

"Janine has messaged to say the twins are asleep and fine, so you do not need to worry about them," he growled.

Ice fisted in Nico's gut.

Mio dio
, how was he going to tell his babies if anything happened to Bronte?

The room spun, swam before his eyes.

What would his life be like without her?

He simply couldn't imagine it.

Something like terror took the breath from his lungs.

And then Susan again squeezed his hand.

"Try not to panic until you have something to panic about," she told him, watching his face like a hawk. "You won't help Bronte or your children or yourself if you give in to something that hasn't happened. Stick to facts. And the facts are that she and the baby are alive. I've known Bronte my whole life, Nico. She's a tough cookie."

He nodded his head, returned the squeeze, and took a deep breath.

"
Grazie
, Susan."

"You need to call Alexander and Rosie, let them know what's happened. You need family around you."

"I will make the call," Jacob said. "And I will call Bronte's father, too."

Nico nodded in agreement.

The paramedic was right.

It was in times like this that families came together.

He stood, took out his cell. "I will call Gabriel."

His brother and his wife would want to know.

With an increasingly heavy heart, Nico went outside to make the call.

It was another two hours before the doctor pushed through the waiting room doors.

He was an Asian man in his late thirties, tall with lean and clever features. He looked tired as he pulled off his blue scrub cap.

"Mr. Ferranti?"

Nico stood, deep brown eyes stared into his.

The man smiled.

"Your wife is stable and in recovery. The bleeding has stopped. And the baby seems to be holding its own. We will keep her here for a few days to keep an eye on her. I'm afraid I cannot give you a prognosis of a positive outcome to the pregnancy - it's a waiting game."

Nico shook his hand. "
Grazie
," he said. Then cleared the lump from his throat. "When can I see her?"

"She's still drowsy, but there is no reason why you cannot see her immediately."

The doctor left.

Nico turned to his friends who were standing behind him.

Gabriella's fingertips were trembling on her lips, her swimming eyes filled to the brim with relief.

Nico held out his arms to her and she stepped right into his tight embrace.

"
Grazie
, Gabriella. I can never thank you enough for what you did today."

Then he handed her over to Jacob.

He turned to Oscar who gave him a back-slapping man-hug.

"She's a fighter, boss."

"
Si
, and I thank God for it.
Grazie
, Oscar."

"Do not worry about Ludlow Hall or the twins, we have them covered," Jacob assured him. "Do not just stand there. Get in and see your wife and give her a kiss from us."

Nico did as he was told and walked through the door.

The next morning at Ludlow Hall, Gabriella was bundled in a thick robe of white cotton, face and body flushed from the shower, with her hair piled in a messy knot on top of her head. She topped up their coffee. And tried not to be distracted by the specimen of male perfection sitting next to her. Jacob's chest was bare, the skin a smooth light gold. The defined muscles of his wide shoulders, pecs, flexed as he lifted his cup, took a sip. Jacob wasn't a hairy man, but he did have a V-shaped shadow of fine, black hair that narrowed down over his flat stomach and led to a path of happiness.

"Nico said Bronte had a peaceful night," Jacob told her. "He sounds better."

Gabriella nodded. Her night had been anything but peaceful. Twice she'd woken up in a cold sweat as she'd re-lived the moments before the explosion. Jacob had held her close, loving her, until she'd gone back to sleep. The police had made it clear that all of them had been very lucky. The outcome of Bronte's accident might have been an absolute disaster for everyone concerned.

The love of her life was watching her face carefully as he sipped his coffee.

Then he spread butter on hot toast, placed it on her plate.

"Eat," he ordered.

Irritation tickled her belly.

Had he always been so bossy, so demanding?

Very likely.

Why hadn't she noticed it before?

Deep in thought, she obediently picked up her toast, nibbled.

Or maybe she had noticed he'd been bossy before and simply ignored it.

Out of the corner of her eye, Gabriella took in his tousled black hair, damp from the shower. He was dressed in light-weight pyjama bottoms of fine black cotton, slung too low on his lean hips. The material did nothing to hide his fabulous physique. Especially his incredibly tight butt. Then she remembered how she'd dug her nails into that tight butt as she'd screamed her release last night. Twice.

Oooooh, boy.

Heat burned a path up her throat to scorch her cheeks.

"Gabriella?"

The voice went deep and low, the way he rolled the 'r' in her name thrilled her too much. He looked at her slowly, from her throat to the crown of her head, before lingering on her hot face. How was it possible, she wondered, that he'd seen and touched every part of her body, but one look turned her legs to jelly?

"I was just thinking that I need get dressed... to get on with the day," she said.

His response was a slow, cool smile.

A smile that told her he'd seen right through her attempted prevarication.

The man never missed a trick.

"No,
querida
. There is no need to get dressed."

She blinked, gave him a shaky laugh, and desperately tried to ignore the heat in his eyes.

"I need to get ready."

Very slowly he shook his head.

All the while his eyes never left hers.

"You are not getting out of this room."

She stood, and wondered why her legs trembled.

"Jacob, don't be ridiculous," With another attempt at a laugh, Gabriella turned to move to the bedroom. "I have lots of things to do before..." The rest of the sentence got stuck in her throat, came out as a yelp as he tossed her onto a large couch.

Standing above her, he folded his arms, drawing her attention to ripped biceps.

"Take off the robe," he said.

"Seriously?" Gabriella gasped, then pushed herself up to her knees. "Who gave you the right to manhandle me like that?" Her hands fisted on her hips, the robe fell off one shoulder.

He went for the belt of her robe. "I have every right, strip."

Her jaw dropped.

"I don't know what's got into... will you... stop that."

Her hands slapped his as he tugged the belt and succeeded in exposing the shape of her breasts, her thigh.

"
Lo siento
." With a smile of apology, he held out his hand. She watched him through narrowed eyes. She didn't quite trust him, Gabrielle decided, but she accepted his hand as she moved to stand. In a flash she was flat on her back, trapped under his big body.

"Jacob!" Wrestling with him and a losing battle against laughter, she pushed him. "Will you behave? I need to get dressed. I want to take Bronte flowers."

"Bronte has plenty of flowers." With a quick tug and a slide of his hand, he opened her robe.

"What is your problem? Stop!" Torn between laughter, frustration and a wondrous arousal, she wriggled against him. "I'm not joking. What if the cleaning crew arrive?"

"They are not permitted to disturb me. I left a message with their supervisor." His hand went on a wicked journey of discovery down her torso and found the spot next to her hip that made her moan. His mouth suckled the skin between her breasts on a slow journey to her navel. His tongue tasted.

With renewed energy, she struggled and almost got her arms free before a strong hand pinned her wrists above her head. Her chin lifted in annoyance. Waste of time, because he kissed it.

"Maybe I don't
want
to spend the morning in bed with you?" she told him in a voice that would melt steel.

In a move that shocked her, his finger slid into her sex to find it hot and wet and tight.

The moan that left her throat should have shamed her.

Instead, it aroused her even more.

"Hmm, feels like a lot of want to me," he responded in a voice that made her want to slap him, hard.

"I'm going to..." She attempted to knee him in the balls and only succeeded in entangling her legs with his as she writhed under him.

"Would you rather be on top?" he asked.

"When I'm free, I'm gonna give you a black-eye," she promised and stifled a giggle that made him grin.

Then she was sprawled on the floor on top of him.

Her hair had come loose, but since he still held her wrists there wasn't a lot she could do about it. But before she could take a breath she was rolled back under him.

"I do not approve of violence," he said and kissed her nose.

"Easy for you to say. You're not the one naked and pinned down by a man twice her size."

Instead of letting her go, he grinned down at her flushed face, then began dropping teasing little kisses all over her face.

"I have my hands full, so why don't you help to get me naked," he suggested as he freed her wrists. His hands were utterly ruthless in their exploration, and Gabriella simply couldn't help the whimper that escaped from her throat, along with the happy sigh of surrender.

"You're nothing but a great big bullyboy," she said gulping air into her lungs.

"Want me to stop?" he asked, those grey eyes watching her face as his fingers slid inside her to curl and find the spot that made her breath hitch.

"Don't you dare." Thrusting her fingers into his hair, she dragged his mouth down to hers.

Every time he kissed her it was always extraordinary the way she felt that debilitating shock of heat. Her flesh would yield, her muscles and bones melt with a glorious languor until she thought her body might dissolve right into the floor. The way his fingers circled her clitoris, lifting her up, up, up, to release, to fall so slowly back down to earth.

Totally forgetting his demand to help him get naked, Gabriella lay in a liquid pool of pure pleasure.

Jacob felt her give in, a capitulation he knew was just the start.

In bed he was a dominant male who gave more than he took. He'd delighted in their game, delighted in taking absolute control. Now and forever Gabriella was his. Some creatures mated for life. And Jacob knew he was one of those rare men. The knowledge made him go nice and easy with her.

His lips took hers, muting her sounds of enjoyment. When he traced the shape of her mouth with his tongue, her eyelids fluttered open. He rubbed his lips over hers, savouring the flavour of her, sweet, so sweet. His hands stilled. Her eyes were on his as he focused on that mouth, those full lips, inhaling her sweet breath. And then that feeling of dominance changed, became a vulnerability, as he gave everything to Gabriella. And in that special moment he felt his broken heart mend.

"I love you so much," he muttered against that fabulous mouth. "I never knew how much until I lost you." Their kiss was deep and hungry and achingly slow, so much more overwhelming than anything he'd ever known.

Now her tongue searched for his, moving between his lips to taste the flavour of him. A shudder trembled through him and he knew her capitulation was at an end.

She slipped his pants over his butt, used her feet to slide them down and off his legs and still their lips were fused together. Now her hands were busy touching, stroking, rubbing, demanding. He spread his legs to give her searching hands better access. In his mind's eye he could see them cupping his balls, her nails scraping over him and they weren't gentle. Now he moved his mouth to her shoulder blade to take a little bite, and was blindsided by the scent of his woman. It took him right back to the Bahamas, to sultry hot nights and wild loving in the ocean surf. Now he ran desperate kisses down the satin soft skin of her arm, to the inside of her elbow, where that hectic pulse only deepened the scent of her, the taste of her. And
Dio mio
, it was magical.

Gabriella locked her arms around her man to hold him close to her heart.

But he slid his body, hard and hot, down hers, all the while his mouth left a moist tingling path down her flesh towards the place that wept with need for him.

No one else on this earth could ever bring her this incredible wanton hunger. Only Jacob. She wanted his mouth on her, in her, taking her in every way possible. He must have read her mind because when his tongue touched her sex she went off like a rocket. And he didn't stop there. Strong hands pinned her hips to the floor as his mouth, his tongue, destroyed her. Gabriella's screams of pleasure echoed around the cavernous room.

Her hands gripped his hair and pulled.

"No more," she begged, "I can't..."

And another cry reverberated in the room as his body slammed into hers, filling her with a shocking suddenness that made her arch her back, to cry out his name again and again.

Then his mouth was fused to hers and all sound ceased.

God, she couldn't breathe, but even as her lungs screamed for oxygen, her hips set up a pistoning rhythm.

Her arms were wound around him and his around her as they reached the pinnacle before their arms tightened. As one, they leapt into the abyss.

Jacob was gasping in her ear, slumped over her limp body.

He was too heavy, and Gabriella didn't give a hot damn.

"I cannot seem to get enough of you," he managed to whisper. "
Dio mio
."

"Me, too. Don't ever stop not getting enough."

How long they lay on the floor, catching their breath, Gabriella never knew.

"Why did you leave me?" he whispered.

This was the Jacob she knew and loved.

The Jacob that would not stop until he had all the answers and nothing but the truth.

"I was scared," she finally admitted to herself as well as to him.

"Of me?"

"Of lots of things. I've made such a terrible mess of all this. I don't know where to start."

Jacob grabbed the throw from the sofa, and a couple of cushions, on the floor.

He covered them both and took her in his arms.

"At the beginning."

Her mind spun back in time to how things were between them before she'd been diagnosed with cancer.

"Everything happened so fast between us. We haven't had a lot of quiet moments, like this, in our relationship."

His hand stroked her hair back from her face, tucked a blonde strand behind her ear.

He nodded. "
Si
, I agree."

"We were always too busy, too consumed with business. Me with modelling and you with the hotels. And we were both to blame for that, Jacob." She paused, wondering how best to convey her feelings. But words, long suppressed, needed to be heard.

"These days, for me, the quiet moments are the most precious. I'm never going back to modelling. My dreams have changed. I lived to make you happy. To be the perfect wife. To have your babies. To be the perfect mother. A life together. The perfect life."

She looked at him, those grey eyes had grown watchful now.

"Now I live for me, Ella. Not Gabriella the perfect supermodel. Not the woman who put her secret dreams aside for another."

Jacob's brow creased. "If we cannot work this out,
querida
. Then my heart will be eternally broken. You do not feel you can share more quiet times with me?"

She read the dismay, the confusion, in his face, and her heart became a bruising beat against her ribs. But she needed to be nothing but honest with him.

"When was the last time I saw you looking anything less than perfect? All relaxed in old jeans, bare-feet, with a couple of days’ scruff on your jaw, kicking back and chilling out? Never."