Page 62 of Dangerous Deception

“What can I say?” I smirk. “I was born for holidaying in the sun.”

“Clearly. You want some?” Caterina sits up and offers me her platter of crackers and mixed cheeses.

While I’m a fan, something about the scent of the cheese makes my stomach turn and I shake my head, closing my eyes one more time. “I’m good.”

“You sure?” Caterina’s lounger creaks as she shifts about. “You didn’t eat dinner last night.”

“Yeah. Maybe I’ve had too much sun, actually, been feeling a little…” I open my eyes and stare up at the glorious blue sky above me. “I don’t know. A little off balance, I think.”

“Bad seafood,” Caterina says confidently. “It’s always bad seafood.”

“You think?”

“Just don’t tell the chef I said that or she might serve me up for dinner.”

“I’m going to tell her right this second.” I grin, letting my eyes slip closed. “After some more sunbathing.”

I’m in a dream. I have to be. We’ve been here so long that the thought of life back home is distant and almost alien. This is where I want to spend the rest of my days.

I wonder if Raffaele can get me some art supplies. Painting the scenery around here would be amazing to send back to the hospital.

Then it hits me.

Raffaele has been kind, attentive, and loving since we arrived. There’s no way he’d stop me from resuming my hospital trips when we head back home, right? I mull over how best to approach the subject, but I no longer feel like I need to dance around issues. Asking him straight should get me the answer I desire.

Leaning over my lounger, I scoop up my phone from where it rests in the shade underneath the table and tap the screen. Just as I swipe to Raffaele’s number, though, a call flashes onto the screen and derails my thoughts.

I sit upright immediately.

“You good?” Caterina, mirroring my movements, is also on alert as she sits up.

“It’s my dad.”

“Oh. You need me to...?” Caterina clicks her tongue and indicates over her shoulder, suggesting she can leave.

“No, no, it’s alright.” I tap the screen and press the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

“Addie!”

My heart squeezes at the old nickname, and suddenly, I’m a child again. “Papà?”

He coughs harshly, a ragged sound that ends in waspish, weak breathing.

“Papà? Are you alright?”

“No, Addie.” My father coughs again, loudly and painfully. “I’m not. You need to come home. You need to come home now.”

The flight home is tense.

Nothing like a cryptic call from my sick father to bring a slap of reality to my life. As soon as I told Raffaele the problem, he had us packed up and on the jet back to the States within two hours. Never have I been more grateful for his money or his influence. I threw up several times before the plane, and even more timesduringthe flight, from the stress of receiving such a terrible call.

My father told me nothing. He coughed more than he spoke, and each time I tried to get answers out of him, he sounded like he was at death’s door.

Nothing made me feel better. Raffaele spoke about doctors and hospitals, swore that whatever was wrong, it would be dealt with and I shouldn’t worry. Caterina offered her own advice along the same path pipeline, but their words meant nothing to me.

All I could think of was my father, alone in that manor.

Falling ill and wasting away while I overstayed my welcome in Italy. I never should have left him behind.

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