Читать книгу Uncovering the Correttis - Carol Marinelli, Carol Marinelli - Страница 5

CHAPTER ONE

‘A WEDDING?’ Emily Hyslop frowned. ‘You’re not seriously asking me to cover a wedding?’

‘I thought you’d jump at the chance of two nights in Sicily,’ Adam said, knowing full well that she wouldn’t.

Emily was an investigative reporter for a large British newspaper and had just been called into her editor’s office to be asked to cover a wedding. Or rather, her ex-boyfriend was telling her that she would be covering a wedding—at the precise time the case Emily had been working so hard on was about to crack open.

‘I’m working on the Hetherington case.’ Emily tried to keep her voice even. ‘You know that I have to be in Wales this weekend. They’re dredging the lake and I—’

‘I’ve asked Dianne to take it over.’

Emily sat there, her cheeks on fire but trying desperately to appear calm, refusing to let Adam see just how upset she was. Journalism was a fiercely competitive world at the best of times. At the worst of times it was downright cruel. Emily had been working on the Hetherington case on and off for months, utilising her contacts, chasing leads, and now it would seem, again, Dianne was being handed the plum piece and would take the credit for all Emily’s hard work.

You didn’t have to be Einstein to work out why.

Emily had long ago guessed that the arrival of Dianne had been the reason for she and Adam breaking up. Well, Dianne was welcome to Adam but not her job, Emily thought while trying to work out how best to play this.

‘Dianne has amazing contacts and she’s got the edge that’s needed to report a gritty case like this,’ Adam said. ‘I know how hard you’ve worked on it, Emily, but I really feel that you’ve taken it as far as you can.’ Adam didn’t have much of a conscience—you couldn’t do this work otherwise—but even he felt a tinge of discomfort as he attempted to come up with a reason for snatching the case from Emily and handpassing it to Dianne. ‘There are going to be a lot of hard questions if they ever do find a body and asking the tough ones is Dianne’s forte.’ He looked at Emily’s huge blue eyes and blond hair and told himself that Dianne was right. ‘We’ve spoken about this several times. If you want to get on in this field, then you need to toughen up.’

‘And sending me to cover a wedding’s going to achieve that?’ Emily couldn’t keep the sarcasm from her voice; she hadn’t covered a wedding in years, not since she started at the paper.

‘It will go nicely with the travel feature on Sicily that the paper’s running next week.’ Adam wanted the conversation over. ‘Cheer up, Emily. I wouldn’t mind a weekend in Sicily. Instead I’ll be stuck in Wales in the pouring rain....’ He trailed off, perhaps realising what he’d just admitted.

‘So you’re going, too?’

‘It’s a big story.’

Yes, and it had been her story.

Emily gave him a tight smile, stood and headed out to her desk. She could feel all eyes in the office on her. It was clear everyone already knew why she’d been called in to speak with Adam.

At thirty, Emily had been with the paper for eight years and had enjoyed working there till recently. As was the case everywhere these days, there were talks of staff cuts, and Emily was aware that her department was being closely looked at. She could easily envision Adam’s red pen going through her name.

How convenient.

What the hell was I thinking getting involved with someone from work? Her eyes skimmed the brief she had been given but then she stopped thinking about Adam and frowned when she saw a name.

Corretti?

The Correttis were one of Sicily’s most notorious dynasties; she had seen on the news just the other week the funeral of the head of the family, Salvatore Corretti. The security had been incredible and Emily had watched various family members arriving grim faced, their eyes hidden behind dark glasses. She had been intrigued even then.

Emily pulled up the name on her screen and read a little more about the family, her heart starting to race a little as it did when she knew she was onto something, because it would appear that this marriage was so much more than a love match.

Alessandro Corretti was to marry Alessia Battaglia. The Italian media was alight with rumours that Salvatore had set this union in place to ensure his family had Battaglia’s backing for some extensive regeneration of docklands on the Sicilian coast. There was far more to it than that, though. The history between the two families went way back.

She could hear Dianne on the phone booking hotel rooms, or rather, one hotel room, for the weekend in Wales—the romantic champagne-on-arrival and breakfast-in-bed package!

Refusing to let it get to her, Emily returned to her research. They really were the most fascinating family. Salvatore had risen from an orphaned street urchin, charming and thieving his way to survive, to working for the mob dynasty the Battaglias. But it had all turned sour and a price had been put on Salvatore’s head. The more Emily read, the more intrigued she became. There was surely more she could report on than just the wedding. It was time to take back control of her career, Emily decided.

She just needed to sort out how.

‘Can I have a word?’ Emily looked up from her research into the face of her nemesis.

‘Of course.’

‘I need the names of a couple of your contacts,’ Dianne said.

‘Sorry.’ Emily gave a sweet smile. ‘Naturally, I promised them that I’d never reveal.’

‘But how do you know the lake’s going to be dredged?’

‘Dianne.’ Emily gave a helpless shrug, then glanced at the clock, surprised to see that it was already after five. She’d been totally immersed in the Correttis and Battaglias and was now excited at the prospect of covering the wedding—but in her own way. She certainly wasn’t going to be assisting Dianne.

‘I just need a name,’ Dianne pushed. ‘We’re on the same team.’

Emily felt her face flush. But hadn’t Adam told her that she needed to toughen up?

‘Well, this part of the team is off to cover a wedding. Sorry I can’t help—I have to go and pack for Sicily.’

‘I can’t wait to hear what the bride wore.’ Dianne smirked.

‘You can both read about it on Sunday,’ Emily responded. ‘When they bring you breakfast in bed.’

* * *

Emily didn’t bother with packing till the morning. Even though it was late May, it felt strange to be pulling out summer dresses and sandals when it was pouring down outside. She packed some loose dresses and espadrilles and, determined that this piece be about more than what the bride wore, she also packed a dress suitable for a wedding, hoping to mingle amongst the notorious guests. Maybe she could even try to slip inside, Emily thought, although she knew that it would be close to impossible.

She met with Gina, the photographer, at Heathrow, though thanks to the weather, they weren’t going anywhere fast. They sat on the tarmac for ages, the planes backed up due to storms, but finally they were in the air. They moaned all the way to Rome about horrible Adam and Dianne and all the changes that were happening in the department.

‘You need to remind Adam and the powers that be what a good journalist you are,’ Gina said.

‘I’m hoping to.’ Emily sighed. ‘I’m looking to do something a bit different with the wedding piece,’ she admitted, but Gina shook her head.

‘Every journalist in Italy will be hoping to do the same.’ Gina was Italian and knew how it worked. ‘Some of them will have serious contacts.’ Again Gina shook her head. ‘These two families are huge, especially the Correttis. The press watch them all the time and even they can’t get close. I doubt you’ll uncover anything new. I think you might have to wait till Monday to set the world on fire.’

They landed at Rome and said goodbye. Emily was heading straight to Palermo and Gina was going to sneak in a night with family and see Emily there tomorrow. ‘Have fun,’ Gina said.

There wasn’t time to have fun, Emily thought. Her career was nosediving; she had to come up with something.

Palermo was gorgeous, though. The sky was blue, the air warm, and as she stepped into summer, she breathed it in, determined despite Gina’s warning to turn things around this weekend. As the taxi drove her from the airport, she noticed how many developments were unfinished, left deserted midconstruction. She tried to ask the taxi driver about them but he spoke little English, though Emily felt the hair on her arms rise when the name Corretti was mentioned.

Emily checked in and was taking the elevator up to her room when one of her informants called.

‘Hi there...’ Emily smiled into the phone but her voice broke off as the most stunning man followed her into the elevator. His hair was jet-black and he was unshaven with a full, scowling mouth, and her first, illogical thought was, it would be heaven to be the recipient of his smile. He was wearing black jeans, a black top and a black jacket, his eyes covered with dark glasses. The lift doors closed and it was just the two of them. As his expensive scent reached her, Emily was incredibly aware of his presence, so much so that she forgot she had taken a phone call until her informant’s voice came down the line.

‘Emily?’

‘Sorry!’ She returned her attention to the call, or tried to, but her eyes watched as a beautifully manicured finger pressed the button for one of the top floors.

‘Wrong lake.’ The connection was loud and Emily held her phone from her ear.

‘Oh!’

‘I don’t even know which one the police are going to be dredging—they’re keeping it really quiet. But I don’t want you freezing by a lake for nothing in this weather.’

‘I’m not covering the story now. Adam and Dianne are on their way there. I’m in sunny Sicily.’

‘Doing what?’

‘Covering a wedding.’ Emily rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t ask. It’s a very sore point.’

‘I never imagined you as a wedding reporter.’

‘Neither did I. Look, thanks for letting me know about the lake. I’ll pass it on.’

‘No I bloody well won’t.’

Emily didn’t mean to say the words she had been thinking, but as she pocketed her phone, she realised that she had spoken out loud. Her eyes jerked up to the gorgeous stranger, her face burning red as the elevator doors opened and she realised she was at her floor. He wasn’t even looking at her; he was lounging against the elevator wall reading from his phone. He probably couldn’t speak English anyway, Emily consoled herself as she stepped out.

‘Fattispecie.’

Just as she got out of the elevator, his deep voice halted her and she turned around and looked at him, wishing he weren’t wearing dark glasses just so she could know the colour of his eyes when she dreamt about him tonight. ‘Actus reus,’ he translated, and even though he still didn’t, Emily found herself smiling as the elevator doors closed, as that delicious stranger gave her the legal term for a lie by omission.

Ah, fattispecie, Emily thought, letting herself into her room and thinking of Adam and Dianne standing in the pouring rain at the wrong lake.

Such a lovely word.