One Night with the Sicilian Surgeon
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Tina Beckett
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PROLOGUE
UGH! SHE WAS so tired of waiting. Especially with the questions rolling around in her head and the nausea that had pooled in her stomach.
Breandan Frost started as the door behind her creaked, a sense of trepidation sweeping through her. He was here. They could have things out before the wedding. If there was even to be a wedding.
Her long white dress hissed around her ankles as she turned quickly. Not Sergio.
She forced a smile as her dad’s worried face came into focus. He wore his dark tuxedo in the same way he’d always worn his military uniforms, his bearing proud and unflappable.
“Dad, I can’t talk about this anymore. Please. Not right now.”
Her father had come into her dressing room about an hour earlier and, kissing her mom on the cheek, had asked if he could have a few moments alone with his daughter.
Instead of the pep talk she’d been expecting, he’d pulled out a tabloid with a headline that screamed an accusation.
Hotel Mogul Accused of Money Laundering!
All of a sudden, Sergio’s secretiveness about his business dealings, an evasion that had made her more and more uneasy over the last month, seemed to click into place. Buried in the article was a picture of him at a New York restaurant with a beautiful blonde, his electric smile on full display. The second picture had been cropped to show the woman’s bare foot curled around Bree’s fiancé’s ankle. The paper was still sitting on the vanity where she had sat and done her makeup.
When and if he arrived at the church, his explanation would determine whether she walked down that aisle as planned or walked out the door.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m not here to talk about what Sergio has or hasn’t done.”
Something else was wrong. Very wrong. “What is it? Is Mom okay?”
“She’s fine, she just...” He dragged a hand across his silver hair. “Sergio was parked out front and—”
Her teeth clenched as another wave of sickness hit her system. She gave a half laugh. “I halfway thought he was standing me up. Maybe it would have been better if he had.”
Growing up the child of an American military officer stationed in Italy had been confusing. At times, she’d felt kind of lost, like she didn’t fit in on either side of the Atlantic. But she loved Italy, and eight years ago she’d made the difficult decision to stay and do her education in the place she’d come to love. Her first position as a perfusionist was set to begin soon after she came back from her honeymoon.
Honeymoon. The word sat like a rock in her brain.
Tabloids were all fake, weren’t they? Except they’d known about her engagement before they’d even told their parents.
Her father didn’t say anything.
Sometimes those gossip papers got it right. She forced out the words. “Where is he?”
“Come sit down, honey.”
“No, I don’t want to sit down. Just tell me.” Her wedding dress suddenly felt tight, constricting her torso and forcing the air from her lungs. Dragging her veil away from her face, not caring if she damaged the delicate lace, her voice dropped to a whisper. “Tell me, Daddy. Please.”
“I don’t know where he is. Maybe he saw the papers. He drove away about twenty minutes ago and hasn’t come back.” The growled words made her wonder if her father had been hoping to waylay Sergio before he ever made it back to her.
The love she’d once felt for her fiancé—the love that had seemed to be faltering lately—went down for the third time.
He’d left her here to fend for himself.
She blinked, trying to process what her dad was saying. She’d always had problems committing to people or things, knowing that her dad could be transferred at a moment’s notice, even though they’d been in Italy for close to twenty years. But Sergio, the CFO of a top chain of hotels, had swept her off her feet. Their whirlwind romance had been featured in one of Naples’s many newspapers, much to her chagrin.
“I tried calling his cell, but he didn’t pick up.”
The wedding was already running late—very late—and there were journalists outside with cameras and microphones who’d surely seen him arrive and then drive away. Her mom had tried to diffuse Bree’s nervousness earlier, fussing over this and that until Bree had finally sent her out to her seat so that she could regain her composure. Her three bridesmaids were already in the foyer according to the text from her mom she’d received a few minutes ago.
“Does Mom know? About everything?”
“No. I didn’t have the heart to tell her. She looked so happy this morning.” A muscle in her dad’s jaw worked as he tried to contain his emotions.
A blaze of anger scorched through her. Sergio wasn’t just doing this to her. He was doing it to her family. To his!
Spinning around to the dressing table, she snatched up her phone and found her fiancé’s name, punching the call button. It rang four times, and then he picked up.
“Serge? Where are you? You need to come to—”
“I’m sorry, Signorina, this is Officer Cardulla. Who am I speaking with, please?”
That wasn’t her fiancé’s voice.
Although she’d lived in Italy most of her life, her brain suddenly couldn’t decipher what the man was saying. Then the realization dawned—Sergio was with the police. She started shaking.
So he’d been arrested? The reports were true?
Switching to Italian, she answered. “Th-this is his fiancée, Bree Frost. Can I speak with Sergio, please?”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”
“Wh-why not?”
“Because fifteen minutes ago your fiancé was killed in a single-vehicle accident. Please come, so we may speak in person.”
Killed? Sergio was dead?
All her questions disappeared in the mist that swept across her eyes. Seeped into her soul. Sergio wasn’t coming back to the church. Not now. Not ever.
A ludicrous thought came to her. Would the blonde in the picture grieve his death?
The phone fell from her hand, clattering on the tile surface of the floor and spinning away. She could hear the officer still calling out to her as tears filled her eyes and spilled over.
When her dad pulled her to him without a word, the floodgates opened, and she turned and wept into his brand-new tuxedo. Wept for the dreams that would never happen. Wept for Sergio’s family and friends seated in the huge, ornate cathedral expecting to see his wide smile at any moment.
But most of all, she cried for the fact that she hadn’t been able to see through his pretense.
But never again. She wasn’t being taken in by a handsome face and convincing lies.
From now on, Bree was going to be on her guard, with her defenses on high alert. And before she pulled her heart off emotional bypass, she was going to block up whatever artery fed the so-called love center of her brain. From now on she was operating off pure reason.
Except right now, everything inside her was telling her to run as far and as fast as she could.
