‘Are you saying we’re not related?’ Rome asked levelly.
‘No. I’ve decided to acknowledge your existence. But in my own time, and in my own way.’
‘Am I supposed to be grateful?’
‘No,’ said Matt. ‘You’re expected to do as you’re told.’ He gestured at the carafe and glass on his night table. ‘Pour me some water, boy.’
‘As we’re dispensing with common courtesy, may I tell you to go to hell, before I walk out?’ Rome, tight-lipped, filled the glass and handed it to the old man.
‘No,’ Matt said. ‘Because you can’t afford to.’ He allowed Rome to assimilate that, then nodded. ‘Now, pull up that chair and listen to what I have to say.’ He drank some water, pulling a peevish face. ‘What do you know of Arnold Grant?’
Rome paused. ‘I know that you’ve been lifelong business rivals and personal enemies,’ he said quietly. ‘My mother said that the feuding between you had poisoned life in this house for years. That’s one of the reasons she—left.’
‘Then she was a fool. She should have stayed—helped me fight him instead of disgracing herself.’ He reached under his pillows and pulled out a folder. He extracted a magazine clipping and thrust it at Rome. ‘Here he is.’
Rome gave the photograph an expressionless look. He saw a tall thin man with iron-grey hair, flanked by two prominent politicians.
He said, ‘What of it?’
‘I’ll tell you precisely what.’ Matt thumped the bed with his fist. ‘He came at me again recently. I was negotiating for some land for a shopping development. I’d had plans drawn up, paid for test drilling and consultancy fees—and he did a secret deal—stole it from under my nose. Cost me hundreds of thousands of pounds, and not for the first time either. But, by God, it will be the last. Because I’m going for him, and this time it’s personal.’
Rome was alarmed at the passion vibrating in the older man’s voice. At the veins standing out on his forehead.
He said quietly, ‘Someone once said the best revenge was to live well. Have you thought of that?’
‘I intend to live well.’ Matt’s eyes glittered. ‘After I’ve dealt Arnold Grant a blow he’ll never recover from. And this is where you come in.’ He paused. ‘He has two weak spots—and one of them’s in that photo. See the girl standing on the end?’
Rome gave the cutting a frowning glance. ‘Yes.’
‘That’s his only granddaughter. She’s not much in the way of looks but he thinks the sun shines out of her, and it’s through her that I’m going to bring him down.’ He paused. ‘With your help.’
Rome put the cutting down, and rose. He said, grimly, ‘Let’s hold it right there. I don’t know what you’re contemplating, and I don’t want to.’
‘Always supposing you have a choice.’ Matt leaned back against his pillows. ‘Now, stay where you are and listen. You’re going to meet this girl, and you’re going to persuade her to marry you. I don’t care how.’
For a moment Rome stared at him, then he said quietly and coldly, ‘I’m not sure if this is a serious proposition, or a sick joke. If it’s the first, the answer’s no, and if the second, I’m not even marginally amused.’
‘Oh, I mean it,’ Matt said. ‘And you’ll do it. If you know what’s good for you. Now sit down.’
The threat was unequivocal, and Rome felt tension grating across every nerve.
He thought, This is crazy. I have to reason with him…
Resuming his seat, he looked back steadily at his grandfather. ‘I make wine. I don’t take part in feuds. And I’m not interested in involvement with some unknown girl. There are plenty of tame studs for hire out there who’ll fulfil your requirements. They might even enjoy it. I wouldn’t.’
‘You make wine,’ Matt Sansom said softly, ‘only while you still have a vineyard. If I called in my loan, you’d have to sell up. And believe that I’ll do exactly what I need to.’
‘But you can’t.’ Rome stared at him, horrified. ‘I’ve made every payment…’
‘But I’m having a cash-flow problem—I’ve just lost out on a big deal and have to recoup my losses.’ Matt allowed himself a thin smile of satisfaction. ‘And think of the consequences,’ he added. ‘Your workers will be out of jobs, your house will crumble into ruins, and you’ll be picking a living from the casinos again. Is that what you want?’
Rome said, between his teeth, ‘No.’
‘Then be sensible. You’ll have no problem with the Grant girl. There’s no regular man in her life. She’ll fall into your hand like a ripe apple from a tree.’ He laughed hoarsely. ‘She was engaged at one point, but threw her unfortunate fiancé, over a fortnight before the wedding. Nearly broke him up, I gather. You’ll understand that, I dare say,’ he added, darting Rome a lightning glance.
Rome was suddenly rigid. He said icily, ‘You have done your homework.’
‘Knowledge is power. And Arnie Grant doesn’t know I have a grandson—which is his second weakness.’
Rome shook his head in disbelief. He said, ‘You actually expect me to marry this girl—whatever her name is?’
‘She’s called Cory,’ Matt said. Something flickered in his eyes, then vanished. ‘It’s a family name. But she’s known as the Ice Maiden, because she freezes men off. And you won’t marry her,’ he added with a wheezing laugh. ‘Because when Arnie Grant discovers your real identity—that you’re my grandson and illegitimate at that—he’ll move heaven and earth to stop it. To get rid of you from her life.
‘That’s why a hired stud won’t do. It has to be you. Because Arnie Grant will want you to go away—to disappear before the truth comes out and turns him into a laughing stock, together with his precious child. And he’ll pay you to do just that.
‘But he’ll know that I know,’ he added gloatingly. ‘That I set him up—and he’ll have to live with that humiliation for the rest of his life. It will finish him.’
He nodded. ‘You’ll be able to name your own price, and whatever he offers you, I’ll match. And you can consider the loan paid off, too.’
‘I could do that anyway,’ Rome flashed. ‘I came over here looking for finance. I can repay you from my new borrowing. I don’t need your dirty bargain.’
‘Ah,’ Matt said softly. ‘But you may find that money’s not as readily available to you as you thought. That you’re not considered a good risk. In fact, I’d offer generous odds that your luck—and your credit—have run out.’
Rome rose and walked out to the window. Afternoon was fading into evening, and a breeze was stirring the rain-soaked shrubs in the garden below.
He thought of the thick autumn sunlight falling on Montedoro, the rich gleam of the earth and the pungent
