head. 'Go back to bed, cara,' he said gently. 'I will bring you some tea and toast before I leave.'
Emma crawled back into bed, annoyed with herself for pushing him. She had been so desperate for a confession of love, but now she had it she felt let down and empty. Was it always going to be this way between them, her pushing and him pulling away?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
WHEN Emma woke a couple of hours later Rafaele had left, but she was touched to see a plate of toast and a cup of tea sitting on the bedside table next to her. Even though it was lukewarm she sipped at the tea and nibbled on the toast until her stomach began to settle.
After her shower she went down to the town centre to make an appointment at the medical clinic for a pregnancy check-up. The female doctor was heavily booked but the receptionist was able to squeeze Emma in for the following day.
Emma was coming out of the clinic with her appointment card in her hand when she saw a woman coming towards her rather purposefully.
'Signora Fiorenza,' the woman said, coming to stand in front of Emma, more or less blocking her escape. 'Do you have a moment?'
'Y-yes?' Emma said, hoping the woman wasn't a journalist. 'How can I help you?'
'We have not met, but I am sure you have heard of me,' the woman said. 'My name is Sondra Henning.'
Emma felt a flicker of alarm like an electric current run up her spine. She didn't like the ice-cold blue of the woman's eyes, nor did she care for the thin-lipped smile. 'Yes...I have heard of you,' she said and offered her hand. 'How do you do?'
Sondra's hand was like a cold fish against hers. 'It's all worked out rather nicely for Rafaele, hasn't it?' she said. 'He couldn't have asked for a more biddable wife.'
Emma frowned. 'I'm not sure what you mean...'
Sondra's smile didn't reach her eyes. 'You agreed to the terms of his father's will, in good faith, I imagine, but then perhaps he hasn't told you about the codicil to Valentino's will.'
Emma felt her stomach tilt sideways. 'W-what codicil?'
Sondra's cat-like gaze ran over Emma insolently. 'Valentino knew Rafaele was a playboy with no intention of ever settling down so at the last minute he added a codicil to his will. It stated that on the event of his marriage to you he would become the principal shareholder of Valentino's investment company. It is worth several million, a nice little inducement to matrimony, don't you think?'
Emma swallowed against a thick tide of rising nausea. 'I don't believe you,' she said. 'I was never informed of any codicil by the lawyer who handled the will.'
Sondra's lip curled. 'That is because Valentino insisted you were not to see it,' she said. 'He wanted nature to take its course, so to speak. He knew you would fall in love with Rafaele, most women do, but what he was not so sure of was whether Rafaele would fall in love with you.'
'He has fallen in love with me,' Emma said. 'He told me so this morning.'
Sondra gave her a pitying look. 'Oh, dear,' she drawled. 'You have got it bad, haven't you, my dear? Of course he would say he loved you. And perhaps he does in a way. After all, you have made him a very rich man.'
'He doesn't need any more wealth,' Emma said in a desperate attempt to defend Rafaele. 'I don't believe he would have acted so callously. I don't believe it.'
'You can always call the lawyer and find out for yourself,' Sondra said. 'Now that you have been married to Rafaele for a couple of months there would be no reason to keep it under wraps.'
'How do you know so much about all this?' Emma asked. 'You haven't been intimately involved with Valentino Fiorenza for years and as far as I recall you never once visited him while I was taking care of him.'
'Ah, but I did visit him and regularly,' Sondra said with a smugness Emma found offensive. 'And as to being involved with him...' She gave another conceited look. 'There are different levels of involvement. It was in my interests to keep Valentino as a trusted friend and confidante. After all, we had a history, one I wasn't keen on him disregarding when it came to the issue of his will.'
Emma felt the cold hand of contempt clutch at her insides at the avaricious tone of