Gabriele had paid to create the documents was a master of the art. Anyone looking at them could be forgiven for thinking they had an air of legitimacy to them.
Her father—her entire family—had been living under a cloud of suspicion for a year, ever since Gabriele had been released from prison and begun his whispering campaign against them. He’d been clever about it, always making sure his comments were right on the cusp of slanderous.
There had been other incidents too, minor in the grand scheme of things; investors pulling out of deals at the last moment, the banks insisting on greater scrutiny of the books, all the little things that could be passed off as consequences of a turbulent global economy but as a whole were evidence of someone working against them.
She clung to the railing, her knuckles turning white. ‘Do you hate us because my father never stood up for your father when the accusations first came out? Is that the reason for all this?’
He laughed. It was the bitterest sound she had ever heard.
‘You’re very good at the wide-eyed ingénue act, I’ll give you that,’ he said with a shake of his dark head. ‘One could almost believe you’re naïve about the fact that it was your father behind it all.’
She shook her head. ‘You’re lying. Everyone knows you and your father were in on it together. You took the rap to spare him. My father was questioned once and they found no evidence against him.’
‘They found no evidence against your father because the trail he made was deliberately laid to lead to my father,’ he snarled, showing the first real sign of anger, enough to make her recoil and tighten her hold on the rail. ‘The FBI has been trying to pin something on him for years. Our fathers went into business together at your father’s instigation so he could hide behind my father’s respectability. He used my father’s affection, good nature and loyalty to an old friend, and framed him.’
‘Where’s the evidence? You’re making a lot of nasty insinuations and accusations here but where’s a shred of evidence to back up the claims?’
‘It’s out there and I will find it.’
‘Or forge it like you did those other documents you claim are from the chapel basement.’
Her father had stored business documents in the chapel basement for decades. There was nothing sinister about it—it was simply the most secure place for them. Or, rather, had been.
‘Admit it, Elena, the documents I copied last night are the real deal. Their release is the smoking gun the FBI is waiting for.’
‘They’re forgeries.’ But she could not deny that they were brilliantly constructed forgeries. As far as forgeries went, they were perfect.
‘You know perfectly well they’re not. You’re up to your pretty neck in all this.’
‘I’m not up to my neck in anything.’ She wanted to scream. This entire conversation was like something from Dante.
‘You are. But there is a way for you to save yourself. And your father. And that is what I mean about you posing a dilemma for me.’
‘Go on.’
‘The lack of documentary evidence to support mine and my father’s innocence is a setback for me.’
‘That’s because it doesn’t exist.’
‘If I’m such a master forger don’t you think I would fake it?’ he demanded. ‘Your father is a meticulous record keeper. It’s out there somewhere and I will find it...or I could be persuaded to forget the whole thing. With the right incentive I could also be persuaded to destroy the evidence I copied last night rather than pass it on.’
‘What incentive are you talking about?’ she asked, the anger leeching out to be replaced with wariness.
‘I’ve held back from sending the documents to the FBI because I have a proposition to make. You and you alone can save your father from financial ruin and a hefty prison sentence.’
‘What does this proposition entail?’
A smile curved his handsome face. ‘That, you will find, is the crucial question. To secure a healthy future for your father and the rest of your family, you will have to do one very simple thing—you’ll have to marry me.’
GABRIELE 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
