“And is he as good a lover as he would have everyone believe?”
Her eyes went wide. “I wouldn’t know. That’s one mistake I didn’t make.”
Chuckling, Gianni mused, “Jean Luc must be losing his touch. And so,” he added before she could say anything to that, “he used you to gain information on your hotel and security measures. Then he helped himself to the Contessa and disappeared.”
She sighed. “Pretty much.”
Shaking his head, Gianni poured them each tea and asked, “Milk? Sugar?”
“No thanks.” She picked up her cup, took a grateful sip and asked, “Why are you being so nice? Tea? Cookies?”
“No reason we can’t be civilized, is there?”
“Oh, no,” she agreed wryly. “The cop and the thief sitting at the same table sharing cookies. It’s practically a fairy tale.”
“They’re good cookies,” Gianni said, taking one before pushing the package toward her.
After a bite, she had to agree. This was so strange. Not at all as she’d imagined her first meeting with Gianni Coretti going. “Anyway, back to the story.”
“Yes, I can’t wait to see how it ends.”
She frowned at him. In the bright overhead light, his dark brown eyes shone with what might have been humor, but she couldn’t be sure. “Abigail didn’t blame me for the theft,” she said, remembering the older woman’s kindness. “But the board of directors did. I was fired.”
“Not surprising. You let down your guard to a thief.” Gianni leaned back in the chair, then frowned and shifted uncomfortably. “And not, I should add, a very good thief.”
“That makes me feel so much better, thanks.” Not only had she been conned, but it had also been done by a thief even other thieves didn’t respect.
Marie cupped both hands around her mug and let the heat seep into her skin. While she stared across the table at Gianni, she forced herself to admit, “I made a mistake and Abigail paid for it. That’s unacceptable to me. I want to get her necklace back. No,” she amended, “I need to get her necklace back for her.”
He gave her a brief, slow nod, as if to acknowledge that he understood the sentiment driving her. But then he started speaking and the moment was lost. “I wish you luck with that.”
“I need more than luck,” she countered. “I need you.”
He laughed shortly, shook his head and then took a sip of his tea before plucking another cookie out of the bag. “And why should I care what you need?”
“Because of that photo.”
His features swiftly went blank. “Ah, yes. Your blackmail.”
“I prefer the word extortion.”
“Tomato, tomahto.”
Ignoring that, Marie took a breath. “I’ve done my research you know. I left New York right after the robbery. I cashed in my savings, bought a plane ticket to France and I’ve spent the last few months traveling all over Europe. First I looked for Jean Luc in Paris but didn’t find him, obviously—”
“He lives in Monaco.”
“See!” She poked a finger at him. “That’s one reason why I need you. You know things I don’t.”
“So very many,” he agreed, then frowned and shifted on his seat again.
“Anyway, when I couldn’t find Jean Luc, the rat, I realized that I was going to need help.” She slumped back against her seat, then straightened up again because the darn thing was so uncomfortable. “Europe’s a big place and finding one thief just seemed like an impossible task. But every cop in the world knows about the Corettis and none of you make where you live a secret....”
“Why should we?” He shrugged. “We’re not wanted for anything.”
She skipped right over that. “I wanted the best and the Coretti family is it.”
“And we’re all so flattered,” he drawled.
“I’ll bet.” She smiled in spite of his sarcasm because she knew she had his attention. Had had it since the moment he’d seen that picture of his father. “I went to Italy, called in some favors with the force back home and got enough information that I was able to find your father’s place.”
That muscle in his jaw started ticking again and she noticed that his grip on the mug was tight enough to make his knuckles as white as the rest of this awful apartment.
“Then I followed him.”
“You followed my father.” His jaw clenched even tighter.
She nodded. “For days. I stayed in a local hotel and learned his routines. He’s very sweet. He actually bought me a cup of coffee once in his favorite café. He told me I had a charming accent and wished me a happy vacation in Italy.”
Gianni sighed and rolled his eyes.
“Your father’s very handsome—he reminds me of someone....”
“George Clooney,” Gianni suggested with a tight groan. “My sister calls him an older, shorter, more Italian George Clooney.”
Marie smiled at the description. “That’s it exactly.” Then she studied him for a second. “You must take after your mother.”
Gianni smirked. “Very humorous. Does this story of yours have an end?”
“Yes.” Back to business, she thought, despite the fact that she was actually beginning to enjoy herself. But she wasn’t here to be attracted to or even make small talk with Gianni Coretti and it would be best if she could remember that. Of course, to keep her thoughts from drifting, she’d have to avoid looking into those dark chocolate eyes of his.
“The picture I took was mostly luck,” she admitted. “I followed Nick to a party at a nearby palazzo and sat there for an hour, watching the rich and famous coming and going. Finally, after an hour, I was so bored I was about to leave. That’s when I noticed your dad on the second-story roof, coming out of the window.”
Gianni bit into a cookie with enough force to send crumbs shooting across the table.
Marie smiled. She understood that frustration. She herself had uncles who could on occasion make her furious enough to bite through steel.
“He never saw me and he went straight home from the party.” Marie took another long drink of her tea. “I made copies of the picture, stashed the copies in different places and then I came looking for you.”
“Why me?” he asked. “Why not my father? Or Paulo?”
“Because you have the most to lose,” she said, her gaze locked with his. “I’ve been following you for the last week, and I think the London cops might be very interested to know just how much time you spend browsing high-end jewelry stores in the city.”
His brow furrowed, his eyes narrowed. “I didn’t steal anything, I was shopping. For a gift.”
“Oh, I don’t think your bimbos would know the difference between designer and discount. And as I said, I think the London police would be curious about your interest in the shops.”
She could actually see him grinding his teeth together.
“I think the cops have better things to do.”
“Possibly,” she agreed. “But there’s Interpol to think about, isn’t there? I know about your deal. You’ve retired from the business, but your family hasn’t. If this photograph gets noticed, your father will go to jail and it’s even possible that Interpol could tear up your immunity deal.”
“What makes you think so?”
She smiled. “This whole law-abiding thing is so shiny and new for you, Gianni, I don’t think it would take much to have the local authorities doubting your devotion to honesty.”
He scrubbed one hand across the back of his neck and sighed heavily before meeting her gaze again. “Think you’ve sewn me up nice and tight, don’t you? Fine. Tell me exactly what you want. Be specific.”
“I want you to help me find Jean Luc and get the Contessa back for Abigail Wainwright. I want to clear my reputation.” She folded her hands together on the c
lear tabletop. “Once I get that, I give you the photo of your father and disappear from your life.”
* * *
Gianni took a drink of his tea and wished it were scotch. He was trapped and he knew it. An edge of cold fury slid through his veins like ice water.
First, he didn’t like intruders. Second, he hated finding out she’d been following him—and hated even more that he hadn’t noticed. Third, his brain kept flashing back to her lying beneath him on his bed and the feel of that curvy body pressed up tightly to him. But mostly, he hated that she was right.
She had him exactly where she wanted him. His new law-abiding-citizen role was so new that London police and even Interpol might look at him with doubts if Marie O’Hara contacted them. He had spent a lot of time lately in the city’s more prestigious jewelry shops. It would look to the cops as if he were casing the buildings, plotting out their security systems, planning a heist. When in reality he had been trying to find a “new mother” present for his sister.
Gianni couldn’t see the police believing that story, though. Even as he sat across from her, distracted by the tumble of dark red curls and sharp green eyes, his mind raced to find a way out. Hell, any way out. There simply wasn’t one. If he didn’t go along with this woman, his father could end up in jail. Nick Coretti would never survive a prison sentence. He was a man used to life’s comforts, to the company of women, to the freedom to go when and where he chose. Being locked away would kill his soul and damned if Gianni would allow that to happen.
“I’ll take care of it,” he blurted out, shifting again and wondering just how the Plexiglass chair with rounded edges was managing to dig into his spine. “I’ll recover the Contessa and once I have it, I’ll contact you.”
“I don’t think so.” She shook her head and her wonderful hair seemed to dance around her face in a tangle of fiery curls. “I’m not letting you out of my sight until I have that necklace in my hands.”
“You come to me for help but you don’t trust me?” He snorted derisively.
“You expect me to trust you when I had to blackmail you into helping me?” She smiled, and took another sip of her tea as if she had all the time in the world to enjoy herself. “Used to be a cop, remember?”
He wasn’t likely to forget, Gianni thought as irritation clawed at the base of his throat.
“Look,” he said, trying to be reasonable and failing, “I have to attend a family gathering on Tesoro Island in a few days. I can’t go after Jean Luc until after that.”
Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Fine. I’ll go with you.”
He sucked in a gulp of air and tried to force the bubble of anger rising inside back down into the pit of his stomach. It was one thing for her to extort his cooperation in a ridiculous theft recovery. It was another entirely for her to expect him to introduce her to his family as a lovely blackmailer.
“This is the baptism of my sister’s child. I can’t bring a stranger along with me.”
Not a flicker of emotion crossed her face. “You’ll have to find a way.”
His gaze shifted from her to the wall of windows at her back and the dark view of the city beyond the glass. In the distance, he saw the lights on the Millennium Wheel—better known as the London Eye. Any other night, he might have been distracted by the sight. Tonight, though, there were too many thoughts. Too many mental images flashing through his brain.
He couldn’t avoid going to Tesoro. Not only would his sister, Teresa, never forgive him for missing her infant son’s christening, but there was also going to be a big jewelry show on the island that week and Interpol wanted him there. Gianni smirked to himself at the irony of Interpol wanting a thief there to keep an eye out for other thieves—when Marie O’Hara wanted the same thing.
Taking another sip of the tea he no longer wanted, he silently toasted himself. Suddenly so very popular.
Accepting the inevitable, which was a trait that had kept him alive and out of jail too many times to count, Gianni looked at her. “As you wish. You’ll come to Tesoro with me and when we leave, we’ll fly to Monaco to retrieve your bloody necklace.”
“Sounds good to me.” She stood up, slipped the long, cross-body strap of her purse over her head and settled it into place. “When do we leave?”
Gianni stood up, too, scowling at having all choice snatched from him. He wasn’t used to being outmaneuvered, but damned if he hadn’t been this time. “We leave in three days.”
“Three days?” She chewed at her bottom lip and he knew what she was thinking. How could she keep an eye on him from her hotel, wherever that was, and prevent him from ditching her?
He’d thought the same and there really was only one solution to this entire situation. “You’ll stay here.”
“Excuse me?”
“We’ll need the three days to practice,” he told her, stepping away from the table and giving his chair one last frown.
“To practice what?”
His gaze flashed to hers. Finally, there was doubt, questions in her eyes. Somehow, that made him feel a bit better about all of this. “Why, to practice being a couple.”
“A couple of what?”
Her voice hitched higher and Gianni enjoyed her outrage.
“My family will never accept my bringing a stranger along to my new nephew’s christening—” He paused for effect and watching her reaction was entirely worth it when he added, “So for the next week or so, you’re going to be my loving fiancée.”
Four
“Fiancée?” Marie repeated the word as if somehow hearing it again would make a difference. It didn’t. “Are you crazy?”
“Not at all.” He stood with the windows at his back and the city of London spread out behind him, aglow with light and color. “If you want to accompany me to the island, then this is how we do it. My family would never accept my bringing a stranger to a christening—”
“Oh,” Marie interrupted, astonished at this whole idea, “but they’ll accept that you’re engaged to someone they’ve never heard of?”
He shrugged and the play of muscles across his chest at that action was impressive.
“My family knows nothing about my private life. They’ll believe me if I tell them you swept me off my feet.”
She laughed shortly. This couldn’t be happening. Gianni Coretti’s fiancée?
“I don’t like the idea of lying to my family,” he continued, “but I don’t see another way for this to work.”
“There’s honesty,” Marie reminded him.
“You call me a thief and then want honesty?”
Well, he had her there. But she really didn’t like the idea of this at all. Not that she’d feel badly about lying in the pursuit of justice, but she was going to be feeling awkward and uncomfortable. Pretending an engagement meant they would have to act as though they were in love—and at the moment, she wasn’t sure she even liked him.
“Second thoughts?” he asked, folding his arms over his chest and rocking back on his heels, clearly enjoying her discomfort. “It’s that police-officer background of yours. Lying comes harder to you people.”
“Aren’t you the understanding one?”
“So I’ve been told,” he said agreeably. “It doesn’t have to be this way. If you’d rather just wait and have me do this on my own—”
“No.” She had him with the threat to his father and she knew it. But if she gave him half a chance, he might just disappear and find a way to make his father disappear as well. Then picture or no picture, she wouldn’t have any leverage at all. Oh, she could take it to the police, but the Corettis had been avoiding the authorities for decades; they wouldn’t have trouble hiding so well they might never be found again.
She couldn’t risk it. She had to stay close to him until she had what she came for.
She t
ook a breath. “Like I said, I’m not letting you out of my sight until I have the Contessa back.”
“Then,” he said, waving one arm out to indicate that she should walk ahead of him, “we should go and get your things from your hotel. We’ll have to begin practicing to adore each other.” His gaze swept her up and down. “This may take some real acting skills.”
“Thanks so much.”
He smiled and the curve of his lips tugged at something inside her. Oh, this really wasn’t a good idea. She was already attracted to the man—who wouldn’t be? Spending more time with him wasn’t going to make that attraction any easier to ignore. Look what Jean Luc had romanced her into—and Gianni Coretti was way more dangerous.
Gianni was gorgeous, probably very charming when he put some effort into it. In any other circumstance, she might really enjoy the kind of charade he was talking about. Too bad they were on opposite sides of this situation, she told herself with a small twinge of regret.
She started back down the hall to the living room, but stopped when he caught her arm. That buzz of sensation she’d felt before was back and hotter than ever, the moment he touched her. Marie glanced down at his hand and he immediately let go of her.
“Last chance to change your mind,” he said, looking down at her. “Once this begins, we see it through. I won’t have my family worried that you’re about to throw my father into prison.”
His eyes were dark and nearly fathomless, she thought idly, unable to look away from that piercing gaze. A quick jolt of guilt shot through her and then dissipated a moment later. She didn’t really want to see Nick Coretti go to prison, either. Yes, he was a thief, but he had been nice to her. She actually winced as that thought danced through her mind. No wonder the board of the Wainwright had fired her.
She was sympathetic to an older thief, had allowed a younger one to romance her and now was desperately attracted to still another.
The Fiancée Caper Page 4
