Читать книгу Wedded, Bedded, Betrayed - Мишель Смарт, Michelle Smart - Страница 10
ОглавлениеGABRIELE WATCHED CLOSELY as the blood drained from Elena’s face, the light golden colour turning white. The last thing he wanted was her falling into a faint again, especially as there was no possibility of him catching her as he’d done the night before.
It was the last thing he should have worried about. Instead of falling into a heap on the floor, she covered her mouth and burst into peals of laughter. And not just a short burst of it. Her body shook, the colour flooding back in her face.
‘That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard,’ she said, wiping away tears of mirth with the back of her hand. ‘You want to marry me?’
He didn’t say anything, just folded his arms across his chest and stared at her implacably.
She must have seen something in his expression for all merriment came to an abrupt halt.
‘You don’t mean it? Do you? You want to marry me?’
‘Marry me and all your father’s financial and legal problems disappear.’
‘But... But that’s insane.’ She ran her fingers through her messy hair. ‘Tell me what your real proposition is.’
‘That’s it. I want my ring on your finger and my baby in your belly.’
‘A baby? You want me to have a baby with you? You are insane—’
‘Those are my conditions for not throwing your father and the rest of your family to the mercy of the authorities.’
She shook her head, visibly pulling herself together. Dragging herself away from the railing, she rejoined him at the table, finished her caffè e latte, then helped herself to the fresh pot of coffee.
Done, she leaned forward, her fingertips holding onto the table as if they were suction pads.
‘Putting aside the fact your proposition is the most stupid idea in the history of humanity, and putting aside your monstrous idea of us having a baby together, what would you hope to achieve by marrying me? My humiliation? My subjugation? What?’
‘I have one mission in my life and that’s your father’s destruction. You marrying me...’ he allowed himself the luxury of imagining Ignazio’s reaction to the news ‘...will destroy him emotionally. You’re his special princess; the light of his life. Knowing you belong to me will cut right into what is left of his heart.’
Her eyes flashed pure hatred at him. ‘I will never belong to you. And I am not having your child.’
‘If you agree to my proposition you will take my name. You will have my child. A Ricci will become a Mantegna. Together we will make a new life.’ Now Gabriele leaned forward to mimic her stance, placing his fingers on the table so they almost touched hers. ‘Your father, your brothers, the whole world will believe you have fallen in love with me and that whatever heart you have in your body belongs to me.’
Now her eyes were wide with stark panic. ‘I can’t do it. No one would believe we’re in love for a second.’
He shrugged. ‘It will be your job to make them believe it.’
She rubbed at her eyes. He looked closely to see if there were tears but clearly Elena, despite her doll-like exterior and unfortunate fainting fit, was tough. It wasn’t a thought that should make him glad but it did.
Knowing she was more than equipped to be his equal lessened a fraction of the guilt trying to eat at him.
He would not allow himself to feel guilt. After what her father had done, guilt and empathy had no place in his life.
Gabriele’s father had worked hard all his life, had been a loyal and faithful husband, father, employer and friend. To see his reputation trashed and the anguish it had caused, along with his father’s bewilderment that the man he’d considered a brother had been the root of it all...
‘It’s one thing wanting to hurt my father but why are you dragging me into it?’ she asked, shaking her head. ‘I’ve done nothing to you. I don’t even know you.’
‘Because I know you’re as guilty as he is. Even if you didn’t have a direct hand in the framing of my father, you did nothing to stop it. Your father is a monster yet you act as if he were a deity. You should consider yourself lucky that I’m giving you this chance. Be in no doubt, the FBI will find evidence against you and your brothers too.’ Gabriele rose from the table. ‘I appreciate it’s a lot for you to take in so I shall give you some time to think things through.’
‘How long? How long, damn you?’
He looked at his watch. ‘I want your decision by the time we reach Tampa Bay.’
‘I can’t...’ She swallowed, her face pinched and furious. ‘I can’t. It’s impossible.’
‘You can. The choice will ultimately be yours. Just bear in mind that should you choose the wrong option, your father will spend what’s left of his miserable life in a prison cell. There might even be a cell with your name on it too.’
As he walked back indoors, the feel of her hate-filled eyes burning into his back, he took some deep breaths to dislodge the uncomfortable, cramp-like feeling that had settled in his chest.
* * *
A hot shower made Elena feel cleaner but not at all better.
She’d sat outside on the deck for almost an hour, trying hard to think but being unable to drag up a coherent thought.
She should never have taken the long weekend off work.
She’d hardly taken any time off in the past year: since Gabriele had started his whispering campaign she hadn’t dared. She’d wanted her employees and the Ricci shareholders to see her relaxed and unworried. An average week would see her travel to a minimum of four countries. Yes, she travelled by private jet but even thirty thousand feet in the air there was no respite to be had. Always there was paperwork to catch up on, emails to send and reply to, daily conference calls with her father.
A fortnight ago she’d caught a cold that wouldn’t shift. As the days had passed her energy levels had sapped. Getting out of bed had become a feat of endurance. Then, on Thursday, she’d sat through a board meeting in Oslo fighting to keep her eyes open. As soon as it had finished she’d dragged herself into her office, sank onto the sofa and promptly fallen asleep. While she’d slept she’d dreamt of the family Caribbean island, bought two decades ago, and had woken knowing she needed a break. She didn’t need a doctor to tell her she was in danger of burnout.
Their home on the island was big enough that all the family could come and go as they pleased. As a rule, they notified the household staff so preparations could be made, but on this fateful occasion she’d decided what she needed more than anything was peace. Just the thought of being completely alone—obviously with the exception of the unobtrusive security guards—had lifted her spirits.
Three days of solitude and sunshine...
She’d arrived on the island late yesterday afternoon. She’d dumped her case in the house and then decided to do something she hadn’t done since she was a child, and head to the south of the island where the clear shallow waters allowed her to wade far out, and catch a fish for her supper.
Her belly rumbled as she recalled how she’d never had a chance to eat her catch, a juvenile foot-long barracuda.
The sun had gone down and she’d built a small fire on the beach. Her barracuda had been almost cooked to perfection when shouts had distracted her.
She’d assumed one of the security guards had injured himself and rushed off through the woods to help.
Luck had not been on her side. She’d stepped onto the main drive that cut through the woods at the exact moment the man clad head to foot in black had stepped out of the house. He couldn’t miss her.
She’d been rooted to the ground, her shock so great she’d been unable to move more than a muscle. It was as if her brain had been incapable of comprehending that there was a stranger before her and that this stranger represented danger.
Then the adrenaline had kicked in and she’d turned to run but by then it had been too late—the man had already yelled for back-up and was powering towards her. So she’d done the only thing she could. She’d opened her throat and screamed, literally, for her life.
Thank the Lord that Gabriele had heard it. She couldn’t bear to think of what would have happened if he hadn’t, or if he’d ignored it.
Her wrists were still sore from where that man had tied her to the bed. He hadn’t cared if he hurt her. Indeed, she would guess he got off on it.
It was this knowledge, that Gabriele had put himself in danger to rescue her, that tempered the fury ravaging her entire body. Even her toes were angry.
But he had saved her. He’d put himself in grave danger for her. When he’d slung her over his shoulder there had been an understandable impatience but not a roughness. Hurting her had been the last thing on his mind.
A bitter laugh flew from her mouth. She’d bet he wouldn’t have bothered coming to her rescue if he’d known that it was she who was in danger.
Or maybe he would have.
Saving her had presented him with an opportunity and he was grabbing it with both enormous hands.
It felt as if needles were being pushed into her scalp and forehead.
She couldn’t marry him. She’d never heard such a ridiculous notion in her life. Marrying a man she barely knew and who was intent on destroying her entire family?
And to have his child? To bring a child into such a hate-filled nest of poison?
Yet it was the only way to save her family. Those forged documents had the potential to destroy them all and she was the only one who could stop it happening.
No wonder her head hurt so much.
Forcing herself to gather her wits, Elena hunted around the cabin for something clean to wear as Esmerelda had whisked her filthy clothes away. All she found was a white silk robe hanging in the wardrobe. It felt beautiful on her skin but one look in the mirror made her whip it off. The material was practically transparent.
Esmerelda had brought some clothes for her to change into but judging by the size and quality of them, they belonged to Gabriele.
It was with great reluctance that she slipped a black T-shirt on. It fell to her knees and looked like a sack. Much better.
What wasn’t better was the faint trace of cologne permeating through the fabric cleaner. It had to be Gabriele’s. It smelt too much like him to belong to anyone else. She hated that it was a scent she found appealing.
As Esmerelda had whisked her underwear away with the rest of her clothes, Elena reluctantly donned the accompanying shorts. They swamped her.
Holding the shorts up to stop them falling down and trying to forget she had Gabriele’s scent clinging to her, she set out to find him.
Retracing the route through the cavernous interior, she found her way to the top deck. She stood at the rail that overlooked the pool deck below, was about to turn back when a figure in the pool made her do a double-take.
Instinct told her it was Gabriele powering his way through the water.
For some incredibly strange reason her heart accelerated, her hold on the rail tightening.
Up and down he swam, his back muscles rippling with the movement. No wonder he had such a fabulous physique...
He reached the end but instead of doing an immediate about-turn and setting off again as he had done thus far, he twisted round and looked up.
Mortified to have been caught...admiring him... Elena went to step back but stopped herself in time. Hiding would only confirm that she’d been spying.
Instead, she held her head high and walked down the wide stairs to the pool deck. By the time she’d reached the bottom Gabriele had hauled himself out of the pool and was rubbing a towel over his face.
Dear Lord...
With the water dripping off his honed bronzed skin and nothing but a pair of tight black swim shorts on with a definite bulge in them...
Feeling her cheeks turn scarlet, Elena hurried to take a seat at a table where a jug of water and a couple of glasses had been laid.
From the corner of her eye she saw him methodically dry himself before slinging the towel over his shoulder and joining her.
He flashed a quick smile and poured them both a drink.
‘Do I assume your reappearance means you have come to a decision?’ he asked, placing her glass before her.
‘Not quite.’ She took a drink of the cold water, wiped her mouth with her thumb and took a deep breath. ‘There are some things we need to discuss first.’
‘Such as?’
‘If I agree to marry you, I want a signed agreement that all the so-called evidence you have against my father will be destroyed.’
‘The contract being drafted has that specified.’
‘You’re drafting one already?’
‘Yes. It will set out in black and white exactly what this marriage will be so there is no room for doubt on either side.’
‘Isn’t that rather presumptuous? I haven’t said yes.’
‘You will,’ he said with an arrogant shrug.
She sucked in air through her teeth and willed herself not to bite.
‘Your father’s liberty depends on it,’ he added.
Growing up in an all-male household, Elena was well used to the male ego. Any man stupid enough to think she was inferior because of her gender or size soon learnt the error of his ways. It had delighted her father that his little princess was brainier than her brothers—admittedly not hard—and had never lost a physical fight against any of them either.
In the Ricci household you learnt to take care of yourself from a very young age.
Gabriele’s arrogance—different from her brothers’ and far more acute—was just another thing to add to the list of things to despise about him.
‘Will I be expected to give up my job?’
‘No, but I will expect you to make concessions on your workload as I will have to make concessions on mine. For our marriage to be believable we will have to marry our diaries as well as ourselves.’
She eyed him with a suspicious glare. ‘And that will be in the contract?’
‘Yes. Anything else?’
‘Your demand for me to have your child is abhorrent and not something I can agree to.’
‘Let me be clear about a couple of things.’ Gabriele leaned forward, taking in the whiteness of her face. ‘My only reason for marrying you is to hurt your father. You know as well as I do that our marriage will crush him. You carrying a Mantegna child will be the ultimate destruction for his pride.’
‘You can’t bring a child into a marriage like this,’ she said hotly. ‘It’s immoral.’
‘A Ricci lecturing me on morals?’ He raised a brow and tutted.
‘Why would you even want to have a child with me? You hate me. You could have a baby with anyone.’
‘But I don’t want anyone. I want you.’
Her slim shoulders rose. ‘Why?’
‘When my father and I were arrested four years ago, I was engaged to be married. I pleaded guilty to save my father’s neck but Sophia, my fiancée, chose not to believe that or believe me. She couldn’t handle the media scrutiny and the associated shame it brought on her and ended our relationship. Believe me, I will never trust another woman again. After what your father did I will not trust anyone. I am the last of my line. You having my child will mean the Mantegna name lives on.’
Merely thinking about Sophia made him feel sick. She’d broken their engagement in a clinical fashion that hadn’t left him devastated for the loss of her love but furious that he had ever believed in it. He couldn’t believe he’d been ready to commit his life to such a disloyal, spineless creature. Thankfully there had been no time to brood; his overriding priorities at the time being to stop Mantegna Cars being pulled under and to protect his parents. That he’d only succeeded in the former was something he would live with for the rest of his life.
‘And you could love a child with Ricci blood in it?’ Elena challenged.
He shrugged. ‘The child will be half Mantegna. That will dilute the impact.’
‘What a disgusting thing to say.’
‘I’m merely being honest. If you agree to this marriage then I don’t want there to be any room for misunderstandings. Any child we have would be an innocent in all this and I do not hurt innocents.’
‘You’re hurting me.’
‘You’re not an innocent.’
She flinched and squeezed her eyes shut but he ignored her distress.
If she was anyone other than Ignazio’s daughter and favourite, closest child, he would feel sorry for her.
Then again, if she was anyone else he wouldn’t dream of the actions he was taking.
Elena was a special case.
Elena had watched his father be accused of a crime she knew damn well her own father had committed. She had seen Gabriele take the rap, had seen the worldwide media coverage, had likely seen the footage of him entering the federal prison system, and seen, mere days later, the coverage that his father’s great heart had given up on him. And through it all, she’d said nothing.
She’d allowed his father to die with his only child imprisoned for a crime her own father had committed and his wife all alone in a country whose language she had never quite mastered. And she’d done nothing.
As far as he was concerned she was as guilty for his father’s death as Ignazio, and he wouldn’t rest until every single Ricci had paid the price for their heinous lies and betrayal.
If she wanted to know what real pain was she should walk in his shoes for an hour.
‘Our marriage will last for as long as it takes to conceive and then we will go our separate ways.’
Her face went even whiter, her horror stark. ‘You would take a child away from its mother?’
‘I’m not the monster in this relationship,’ he said. ‘I’d be willing to have joint custody but the condition would be that it has no contact with any member of your family.’
‘You are a monster,’ she spat. ‘How you can even think about bringing a child into the world under such conditions...’
‘Nevertheless they are my conditions. Take it or leave it. I want a child. I want revenge. I can marry those two desires by marrying you. And look on the positives of having my child—as soon as you’re pregnant you’ll have outlived your usefulness and I will set you free. It is up to you. Or you can take your chances with the law.’
‘Let’s say for argument’s sake that I do agree to have a baby with you.’ Desperation laced her husky voice. ‘How are you going to have...have...sex with a woman you hate?’
‘Are you really that naïve about the workings of a man?’ he mocked. ‘Our libidos tend to work independently from our brains. You’re not a bad-looking woman. I’m sure making a baby with you won’t be too much of a hardship.’
If Elena had anything else to say she must have become incapable. Her eyes were wide and full of fury and outrage.
‘It is best our cards are laid on the table,’ he said. ‘And now that you know where you stand on everything, have you come to a decision? Will you marry me?’
Her lips pulled together. He could hear her breathing.
‘As long as that contract guarantees you will not take my baby away from me and as long as it guarantees you will destroy the alleged evidence and that you will stop the whispering campaign you’ve been conducting against my family then yes, I will marry you.’
He allowed himself the satisfaction of a smile.
But Elena wasn’t finished.
Hands clenched into balls, she said, ‘But you have to buy me a house in Florence and one close to your home in New York.’
‘What on earth for?’
‘If we’re sharing custody it means I can always be close to our child whenever it’s with you and be there if it needs me.’
He was surprised to find she had some latent maternal genes in her.
‘And I want it stipulated, in black and white, that you will never bad-mouth me or my family to our child.’
From the look on Elena’s face, Gabriele judged this was the deal breaker. He had to admire her. She had spirit. And, despite being a Ricci, compassion for a child who hadn’t yet been created.
‘Okay,’ he agreed with a lazy shrug. ‘I can agree to that.’
‘I want it written in the contract.’
‘Consider it done.’
‘Good. But just so you know, you’re not the only one who can hold a grudge and wish for vengeance.’ She rose from her chair and leaned forward so her furious eyes were mere inches from his. ‘When this is over I will personally see that you pay. There will not be a minute of the day when you don’t regret what you’ve done to me. I will see you burn in hell for this.’
Unexpectedly, something cold raced up his spine.
‘I’m already in hell,’ he said bitterly. ‘Your father put me there.’
Her top lip curled. ‘Then I will make it my mission in life to keep you there.’
