Читать книгу Caroselli's Christmas Baby - Michelle Celmer - Страница 8

“As your attorney, and your friend, I have to say, Giuseppe, that I think this is a really bad idea.”

Giuseppe Caroselli sat in his wingback leather chair—the one his wife, Angelica, God rest her saintly soul, had surprised him with for his eighty-fifth birthday—while Marcus Russo eyed him furtively from the sofa. And he was was right. This scheme Giuseppe had concocted had the potential to blow up in his face, and create another rift in a family that already had its share of quarrels. But he was an old man and time was running low. He could sit back and do nothing, but the potential outcome was too heartbreaking to imagine. He had to do something.

“It must be done,” he told Marcus. “I’ve waited long enough.”

“I can’t decide which would be worse,” Marcus said, rising from the sofa and walking to the window that boasted a picturesque view of the park across the street, though most of the leaves had already fallen. “If they say no, or they actually say yes.”

“They’ve left me no choice. For the good of the family, it must be done.” Carrying on the Caroselli legacy had always been his number one priority. It was the reason he had fled Italy at the height of the Second World War, speaking not a word of English, with a only few dollars in the pocket of his trousers and his nonni’s secret family chocolate recipe emblazoned in his memory. He knew the Caroselli name was destined for great things.

He’d worked scrimped and saved until he had the money to start the first Caroselli Chocolate shop in downtown Chicago. In the next sixty years the Caroselli name grew to be recognized throughout the world, yet now it was in danger of dying out forever. Of his eight grandchildren and six great-grandchildren, there wasn’t a single heir to carry on the family name. Though his three sons each had a son, they were all still single and seemed to have no desire whatsoever to marry and start families of their own.

Giuseppe had no choice but to take matters into his own hands, and make them an offer they simply could not refuse.

There was a soft rap on the study door, and the butler appeared, tall and wiry and nearly as old as his charge. “They’re here, sir.”

Right on time, Giuseppe thought with a smile. If there was one thing that could be said about his grandsons, they were unfailingly reliable. They were also as ambitious as Giuseppe had been at their age, which is why he believed this might work. “Thank you, William. Send them in.”

The butler nodded and slipped from the room. A few seconds later his grandsons filed in. First Nicolas, charming and affable, with a smile that had been known to get him out of trouble with authority, and into trouble with the ladies. Following him was Nick’s cousin Robert, serious, focused and unflinchingly loyal. And last but not least, the oldest of all his grandchildren, ambitious, dependable Antonio Junior.

His joints protesting the movement, Giuseppe rose from his chair. “Thank you for coming, boys.” He gestured to the couch. “Please, have a seat.”

They did as he asked, all three looking apprehensive.

“You are obviously curious as to why you’re here,” Giuseppe said, easing back into his chair.

“I’d like to know why we had to keep it a secret,” Nick said, his brow furrowed with worry. “And why is Marcus here? Is something wrong?”

“Are you ill?” Tony asked.

“Fit as a fiddle,” Giuseppe said. Or as fit as an arthritic man of ninety-two could be. “There is a matter of great importance we must discuss.”

“Is the business in trouble?” Rob asked. For him, the company always came first, which was both a blessing and a curse. Had he not been so career-focused, he could be married with children by now. They all could.

“This isn’t about the business,” he told them. “At least, not directly. This is about the Caroselli family name, which will die unless the three of you marry and have sons.”

That earned him a collective eye roll from all three boys.

“Nonno, we’ve been through this before,” Nick said. “I for one am not ready to settle down. And I think I speak for all of us when I say that another lecture isn’t going to change that.”

“I know, that’s why this time I’ve decided to offer an incentive.”

That got their attention. Tony leaned forward slightly and asked, “What sort of incentive?”

“In a trust I have placed the sum of thirty million dollars to be split three ways when each of you marries and produces a male heir.”

Three jaws dropped in unison.

Nick was the first to recover. “You’re seriously going to give us each ten million dollars to get hitched and have a kid?”

“A son. And there are conditions.”

“If you’re going to try to force us into arranged marriages with nice Italian girls from the homeland, forget it,” Rob said.

If only he could be so lucky. And while he would love to see each of them marry a nice Italian girl, he was in no position to be picky. “You’re free to marry whomever you please.”

“So what’s the catch?” Tony asked.

“First, you cannot tell a soul about the arrangement. Not your parents or your siblings, not even your intended. If you do, you forfeit your third of the trust and it will be split between the other two.”

“And?” Nick said.

“If I should join your nonni, God rest her saintly soul, by the end of the second year and before a male heir is born to any one of you, the trust will be rolled back into my estate.”

“So the clock is ticking,” Nick said.

“Maybe. Of course, I could live to be one hundred. My doctor tells me that I’m in excellent health. But is that a chance any of you is willing to take? If you agree to my terms, that is.”

“What about Jessica?” Nick asked. “She has four children, yet I suspect you’ve not given her a dime.”

“I love your sister, Nick, and all my granddaughters, but their children will never carry the Caroselli name. I owe it to my parents, and my grandparents, and those who lived before them to keep the family name alive for future generations. But I also don’t want to see my granddaughters hurt, which is why this must always remain a secret.”

“Do you intend to have us sign some sort of contract?” Tony asked, turning to Marcus.

“That was my suggestion,” Marcus told him, “but your grandfather refuses.”

“No one will be signing anything,” Giuseppe said. “You’ll just have to trust that my word is good.”

“Of course we trust your word, Nonno,” Nick said, shooting the others a look. “You’ve never given us any reason not to.”

“I feel the same way about the three of you. Which is why I trust you to keep our arrangement private.”

Tony frowned. “What if you die? Won’t the family learn about it then?”

“They won’t suspect a thing. The money is already put aside, separate from the rest of my fortune, and as my attorney and executor to my will, Marcus and Marcus alone will have access to it. He will see that the money is distributed accordingly.”

“What if we aren’t ready to start families?” Rob asked.

Giuseppe shrugged. “Then you lose out on ten million dollars, and your third will go to your cousins.”

All three boys glanced at each other. Knowing how proud and independent they were, there was still the very real possibility that they might deny his request.

“Do you expect an answer today?” Nick asked.

“No, but I would at least like your word that each of you will give my offer serious thought.”

Another look was exchanged, then all three nodded.

“Of course we will, Nonno,” Rob said.

Had he been standing, Giuseppe may have crumpled with relief, and if not for gravity holding him to the earth, the heavy weight lifted from his stooped shoulders surely would have set him aloft. It wasn’t a guarantee, but they hadn’t outright rejected the idea, either, and that was a start. And given their competitive natures, he was quite positive that if one agreed, the other two would eventually follow suit.

After several minutes of talk about the business and family, Nick, Rob and Tony left.

“So,” Marcus asked, as the study door snapped closed behind them, “how do you suppose they’ll react when they learn there is no thirty million dollars set aside?”

Giuseppe shrugged. “I think they will be so blissfully happy, and so grateful for my timely intervention, that the money will mean nothing to them.”

“You have the money, Giuseppe. Have you considered actually giving it to them if they meet your terms?”

“And alienate my other grandchildren?” he scoffed. “What sort of man do you think I am?”

Marcus shook his head with exasperation. “And if you’re wrong? If they do want the money? If they’re angry that you lied to them?”

“They won’t be.” Besides, to carry on the Caroselli name—his legacy—that was a risk he was willing to take.