wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen a topless man before, she reminded herself. She had three older brothers. The male physique was hardly a mystery.
‘I appreciate you saved me from those men last night but what were you doing on our island? If you had nothing to do with those men, how did you know to rescue me?’
It could only have been for nefarious purposes. Ever since Gabriele’s release from prison he’d been conducting a subtle one-man vendetta against her family. The media intrusion had become intolerable.
The handsome, charismatic billionaire head of Mantegna Cars, a convicted fraudster and money-launderer, never missed an opportunity to make digs at her father. Gabriele had pleaded guilty to the charges and taken sole responsibility—though it was widely believed he’d only done so to save his own father—but many whispers had reached the media that Gabriele was fingering Ignazio Ricci as the real culprit.
Thoughtful eyes, such a dark brown colour they appeared black, met her gaze. With his strong nose and wide, sensuous lips, Gabriele’s features had a soulful quality that was totally incongruous for a man such as him.
‘I heard you scream. That’s how I knew there was someone in danger.’
Her throat still hurt from that scream.
‘We’ll wait until your refreshments have been served and then we can talk about the rest of it.’ His gaze flickered over her, scrutinising her in a fashion that made her flush. Having not looked in a mirror, she could only imagine how awful she looked with her bed hair and the clothes she’d fished in, made a bonfire in and slept in.
‘Can you at least tell me where we are?’
‘We are currently in the Gulf of Mexico. All being well we should arrive at Tampa Bay by early evening.’
Since assuring himself that Elena’s faint wasn’t anything to worry about, Gabriele had done some research on the woman he hadn’t set eyes on in over two decades. His mind had been so filled with revenge on Ignazio and, to a lesser extent, his three sons, he’d almost forgotten she existed.
From thinking a man like Ignazio didn’t have the capacity to love anyone, Gabriele now knew that, in Elena, he had found his nemesis’s Achilles heel.
Their fathers had been close friends since childhood. When Alfredo, Gabriele’s father, had emigrated from Italy to the US with his wife and young son, their friendship had endured. Alfredo had passed on his new American contacts to Ignazio and vouched for him, enabling him to expand his own growing empire.
Their businesses had been complementary, with Ricci Components supplying many of the parts fitted in Mantegna Cars. Both men had subsequently diversified from their business origins and a decade ago had merged the overlapping aspects of their respective businesses, at Ignazio’s suggestion. Gabriele had had some reservations about the merger but had kept them to himself—after all, Ignazio was practically family.
Despite their enduring closeness, Ignazio had kept his only daughter hidden away in Italy. Gabriele doubted he had seen Elena in the flesh more than a handful of times since she was a toddler. His only real memory of her was as an unabashed tomboy.
The light of her father’s eye, she had been home educated and protected all her life. She’d joined her father’s business at the age of eighteen and worked closely with him for a number of years before being given the role of running the European division of Ignazio’s empire.
Unlike her brothers, who had all the subtlety of a trio of strutting peacocks, she still, as an adult, kept in the background. Media sightings of her were slim and those that existed were all business related.
One particular broadsheet interview with Ignazio had caught his attention. It had been conducted four years ago, when Gabriele’s father had first been charged. Ignazio had slated Alfredo and spoken eloquently about how ‘duped’ he felt. The only sincere words Gabriele had sensed from the man had been about his daughter:
‘Elena is the hardest worker of my staff and the best child a man could hope for. I know when I become infirm, she will be there to care for me.’
He allowed himself a smile.
Gabriele’s visit to the Ricci chapel might not have provided the evidence to clear his name he so badly wanted but in Elena he had found a silver lining. He’d found a weapon that could hurt Ignazio much more than merely sending him to prison.
Oh, yes, as a weapon to hurt Ignazio, he had found none better.
But then his smile dropped.
There would be nothing to celebrate until he found the evidence that cleared his father’s name—and his own—and would allow his mother whatever peace she was capable of finding.
‘I should tell you that your presence here has presented me with something of a dilemma,’ he said.
Her brows drew together, her startling green eyes holding his. ‘What kind of dilemma?’
‘You have provided me with options I hadn’t considered before.’ Seeing Esmerelda returning to them, he left it at that.
Elena’s caffè e latte, a large fresh pot of coffee and a plate of pastries were placed between them, and Gabriele’s coffee poured.
‘Please, eat,’ he instructed with a wave of a hand, as Esmerelda disappeared back inside.
‘Tell me why I’m a dilemma.’
‘I would prefer to have this conversation without worrying you’re going to fall into another faint due to hunger.’
‘I’ve never fainted before,’ she stated matter-of-factly. ‘It was the shock and adrenaline of everything, that’s all. I’ve never been kidnapped before and then rescued, then chased, then thrown over a shoulder to a jet ski with live ammunition being fired at me.’
‘Why did you run from me?’ he asked curiously.
‘Because you have a grudge against my father and hate my family. You appeared in the room like a dark phantom—I was scared.’
‘I don’t hold a grudge against your father,’ he denied calmly. ‘My loathing towards all you Riccis is much stronger than that.’
Her pretty, lightly golden face paled. ‘Then why did you rescue me?’
‘Because I’m not such a monster that I would leave you at the mercy of those men.’
A tiny, shaking hand took a cornetto. Instead of biting into it, she put it on the plate before her, then took a sip of her caffè e latte.
‘I don’t understand why you hate us all so much.’
‘Really?’ He allowed his disbelief to ring through the syllables. Elena was a child of Ignazio’s loins. She worked closely with him. Gabriele doubted there was anything about Ignazio’s business practices she was unaware of. She was as guilty as he. ‘Then let me educate you.’
At the foot of the table sat his briefcase. He pulled it onto his lap, opened it, and took out a document file.
‘I went to Nutmeg Island last night searching for evidence of your father’s criminality. These are a few
