Читать книгу Wicked Wives - Anna-Lou Weatherley - Страница 22

Marco DiMari discarded the phone onto the bed without so much as a second thought as he rifled through Tess’s belongings. There had to be a fair few grand’s worth of designer gear here he thought happily, as he inspected the contents of her Louis Vuitton holdall with gusto. The suitcase alone was worth a small fortune and he could just see himself passing through customs with it. He grinned at the thought.

Marco DiMari’s real name was Tarik Valmir and although he had people, women largely, believe that he was a real Italian stallion from Rome, he was in fact born in a small city called Lezhe in Albania and had grown up largely on the peripheries of East London, Bethnal Green, to be exact. The Italian thing was simply a ruse to entice women; it certainly got you into their knickers a lot quicker. Ever tenacious, he had even learnt to speak the language fluently, fooling Italian women themselves on occasion. Oh yes, Tarik liked his alias. He liked it a lot.

Hoping that he might’ve thrown Tess’s mother off the scent with his text message, Marco came across Tess’s passport.

‘Bingo,’ he said underneath his fetid alcoholic breath.

He was sure there was big money to be made from this one and he wasn’t about to let such an opportunity slip through his nimble fingers. He’d seen a new opportunity in Tess Scott, the billionaire’s fragrant daughter. One that was far too good to pass up.

Marco heard the pounding on the wall next door again. The girl had been going at it on and off all morning, hammering at the door and walls, crying and screaming like a banshee. He knew he would have to give her something to drink soon before she collapsed with dehydration. He didn’t want a stiff on his hands – she was worth far too much for that.

He heard Tess’s muffled cries through the wall.

‘That’s right love, you carry on. We’re halfway up a fucking mountain in Spain you dozy bitch, no one can hear you.’ He banged his fist against the wall in retaliation, laughing, ‘no one at all!’