by Jane Porter
“And you think that’s important?”
“Yes.”
His lips compressed, his jaw firming “I doubt you value his Venetian ancestry and heritage as much as you value the Marcellos’ wealth and clout.”
“Can’t I want both for him?”
“But I don’t think you really want both.”
“That’s not true. I’ve worked hard to get to where I am now, but even with an excellent job, I barely make ends meet. And as a single woman, not yet twenty-nine, I’m in no position to raise a child on my own, much less a Marcello—”
“What does that even mean to you? A Marcello?”
“Your family is old, and respected. Your history goes back hundreds of years. The Marcellos have contributed significantly to modern Italy, but you personally have done so much for Italy’s economy that just last year you were awarded the Order of Merit for Labor.” She saw his black eyebrow arch, his expression almost mocking. “And yes,” she added defiantly. “I did my homework. I had to in order to find you.”
“Fourteen years ago the Marcello holding company was on the verge of bankruptcy. No one wanted to do business with us. No one trusted us. I have poured myself into the company to rebuild it, sacrificing a personal life in order to make the business my focus. And so, yes, I know manufacturing, construction and real estate, but I’m not interested in expanding the family.”
“But the family has been expanded,” she said quietly. “With or without your consent.”
“You’re revealing your hand,” he replied. “I see where you’re going with this. How we all owe him, because he is my brother’s son. His heir.”
“That’s not where I’m going.”
“No? You’re not about to play the Marcello heir card?”
She dampened her lips, trying to hide her sudden flurry of nerves because she had played that card, and she’d played it with the press. “I’m not asking for a piece of your company. I’m not wanting Michael to inherit Marcello shares or stock, but I do believe you can, and should, give Michael a proper education and the advantages I could not provide for him.”
Giovanni’s lip curled. “You didn’t ever want to leave Michael here. In fact, you never intended to actually let him go. How could you? You wouldn’t be able to justify the child support you feel you deserve.”
“This isn’t about me.”
“Isn’t it? Because let’s be honest, a six-month-old has very few material needs. Milk, a dry diaper, clean clothes—”
“Time, love, attention.”
“Which you want to be compensated for.”
“No,” she said sharply, before holding her breath and counting to ten. She had to stay calm. She couldn’t get into a fight, not now, not before anything was settled, and certainly not before Michael had been returned to her. “I wish I didn’t need your money. I’d love it if I didn’t need help. I’d love to be able to tell you to go fly a kite—” She hesitated as she saw him arch a brow. “It’s an expression.”
“I’m familiar with it.”
“I was trying to be polite.”
“Of course.”
His sarcasm made her want to take a poker iron from the fireplace and beat him with it, which was something, considering the fact that she was not a violent person, and did not go through life wanting to hit things, much less human beings. “I don’t want to be compensated. But I can’t work and care for Michael at the same time, nor does AeroDynamics provide an on-site nursery. The fact is, there is no solution for child care for someone in my position.”
“That problem disappears, though, if you claim Antonio’s assets in the Marcello holding company, allowing you to retire from your job and raise the child in the comfort and style he deserves.” Giovanni’s blue gaze held hers, his mocking tone matching his cynical expression. “Have I got it right?”
Offended, she stiffened. “You’ve created a fascinating story, but it’s not true.”
“Do you share the same father and mother as your sister?”
“Yes.”
“So you were raised in the same...struggling...blue-collar household?”
She heard the way he emphasized struggling and winced. “We were not a blue-collar household. My father was a respected engineer for Boeing. He was brilliant. And my mother managed the front office of a successful Seattle dental practice.”
“Not Seattle, but Burien.”
So he had done some research, and he’d found her family wanting.
She battled her temper, not wanting to lose control again. It was one thing to become muddled by a kiss, but another to allow his words to stir her up. “Yes, Burien, just a few miles south of downtown Seattle. Living in a suburb was a lifestyle choice. That way my mother could work and be available to see us to the school bus before school, and then meet our bus afterward. She juggled a lot, especially after our father died.”
“Money was an issue.”
Her smile was gracious. She would be gracious and serene. “Being middle class is not a crime, nor does it reflect badly on my family. Wealth doesn’t make one superior.”
“It does give one advantages...physically, socially, psychologically.”
“But not morally.” She held her smile, hiding her fury. She’d met many arrogant, condescending men at AeroDynamics but they’d never shamed her for having less. “Morally you are not superior in any way. In fact, I’d say morally you are inferior because you’ve refused so far to do what is right. You’re more concerned about protecting your corporation than your nephew—”
“We were discussing wealth and its advantages, and you’ve turned it into an attack.”
“Not attacking, just stating my position.”
“That you are morally superior because you’re of the working class?”
“If I’m morally superior it’s because I didn’t turn my back on my nephew like you!” She drew a shallow breath, stomach churning. “I knew your brother. He was my client and he’d be devastated that you’ve rejected his son—”
“I haven’t rejected my nephew, and you could not have known my brother well if you thought he was pleased in any way about your sister’s pregnancy. Her pregnancy devastated him. It hastened his death, so before you lecture me about moral superiority, why don’t you look at your own family?”
Her lips opened and closed but she couldn’t make a sound.
Giovanni rose. “Your sister is a classic gold digger. She wanted a rich man and she found one in Antonio. She didn’t care that he was ill and dying. She didn’t care that she was making excessive demands. All she wanted was her way, and she got it. So save your speeches, Rachel. I know just who you and your sister are. Master manipulators, but I won’t be played. Good day. Addio.”
He walked out, leaving the door open behind him.
* * *
Giovanni climbed the staircase two steps at a time, anger rolling through him, anger and outrage that a stranger would try to tell him who his brother was and what his brother wanted.
Growing up, Antonio had been Giovanni’s best friend. They’d had a younger sister but she’d died at six, which had only brought Antonio and Gio closer together. Antonio and Gio were so close that Gio, an introvert, didn’t feel the need to have a lot of other friends.
They ended up attending the same boarding school in England, and then the same university. Antonio loved business and finance while Giovanni preferred engineering and construction, which made them a good pair, and they both looked forward to working together at the Marcello corporate office, which is what Gio did right after graduating from university. But Antonio went on to graduate school, earning an MBA from Harvard. Giovanni had been the one to convince their father that it was a smart investment, sending Antonio to America for the prestigious program, as he’d be able to bring his knowledge back to Marcello corporate office afterward.
It didn’t work out that way, though. While at Harvard, Antonio was introduced to a big financial firm on Wall Street and they were impressed with his mind
and his linguistic ability—Antonio, like Giovanni, spoke five languages fluently. The firm courted him, wanting him to work for them in their Manhattan office. Antonio accepted the offer as it was extremely lucrative and involved a great deal of travel and perks that he wouldn’t get working for the family business.
Giovanni was shocked by his younger brother’s decision. It’d felt like a betrayal. Marcello Enterprises was in trouble. Their father had made years of bad decisions, and Giovanni, the practical, pragmatic engineer, needed his brother to help save the company. Without Antonio they could lose everything. But Antonio wasn’t eager to work for a company that was floundering—even if it was his family’s.
Gio met Adelisa right after Antonio accepted the position in Manhattan, and he’d shared with her his disappointment, and his frustration. She’d been a good listener. Too good a listener, actually, as she would later share company secrets with others, undermining everything Gio had worked so hard to accomplish.
Of course, not all women were like Adelisa. But when you were one of the wealthiest men in Italy, it was hard to trust any woman’s motives.
CHAPTER FOUR
FOR A LONG moment after Giovanni walked out, Rachel sat frozen on the couch, thoughts blank, heart on fire, Gio’s sharp words ringing in her head preventing her from thinking or feeling anything other than pain and shame.
Gio was right, and wrong. But more right than wrong. Juliet had wanted a wealthy boyfriend. She’d wanted to marry a very rich man and it had been her goal since she was in junior high school.
Juliet felt she deserved better than everyone else. She wasn’t ordinary like Rachel. She was beautiful. She’d been a pretty baby and had grown into a little girl who turned heads. Juliet knew it, too, and from the time she was small she dazzled everyone she met.
It started with their parents, and then Juliet turned her charm onto her teachers, and she went through life wrapping everyone around her little finger.
It seemed to Rachel that she was the only one Juliet couldn’t manipulate, and over the years it created tension between them and friction in the family. Juliet would have a tantrum when Rachel refused to capitulate to her demands, and then Mother would intercede, and inevitably she took Juliet’s side. Mother had been firmly on Juliet’s side last spring when Juliet began dating Antonio and needed loans to buy new clothes and pay for expensive hair and skin appointments.
Rachel had refused to give her sister money for a new wardrobe, telling Juliet to do what everyone else did and look for employment so she could buy new clothes with money she’d earned. “She’d have more self-respect,” Rachel told their mother when Juliet had the expected meltdown. “It’s not right to give Juliet everything she wants.”
“Why are you so hard on her?” Mother answered. “She’s not cut out for business the way you are.”
“That’s not true. She’s smart, Mom. She’s just really lazy.”
“You’re so grumpy all the time, Rachel. Where’s your sense of humor?”
“I have a sense of humor, but it’s hard to feel like laughing when Juliet can’t hold down a job. She lives off loans from you and me.”
“It’s been months since we’ve floated her any money. She’s getting better at managing her funds.”
“Because her bills are getting paid for by one boyfriend or another.”
“At least she has a boyfriend.”
“Wanting a boyfriend isn’t exactly aspirational!”
“Oh, yes, that’s right, Rach. You’re far too intelligent to fall in love.”
“No, Mom. I’m not too intelligent to fall in love. But I’m too intelligent to turn a man into a meal ticket.” She paused but her mother was silent now and Rachel pressed on. “I should think you’d be uncomfortable with Juliet always trying to cash in from her looks. She doesn’t think she should have to work because she’s beautiful but good looks can only take one so far—”
“You’re jealous.”
“Mom, I’m too old for this. I might have been jealous when I was fourteen and she was twelve and Juliet stole my first boyfriend, but I’m twenty-eight and I have great friends, a job I love and a life I enjoy.”
“Then why care that Juliet is doing life her way? Don’t resent her happiness. She’s sure she’s found the one, and I fully expect an engagement announcement any day now.”
But Mrs. Bern was wrong. There was no engagement, but there was an announcement. Juliet was pregnant and her rich boyfriend, Italian businessman, Antonio Marcello, had broken things off with Juliet and returned to Italy without her.
It had been a terrible time in Seattle afterward. Juliet had been heartbroken, and then not even two months later, Mother died. They hadn’t known she was unwell. Mother hadn’t even known. If there was a blessing, it was that Mother went quickly, without months of suffering. She was there one day and then gone the next.
Not even three weeks later, they learned through a newspaper article that Antonio Marcello had died in Rome, at home, with his family at his side.
Juliet never really recovered after that. First Mother, then Antonio, and Juliet still had the third trimester to get through, but there had been too many hits and shocks. She went into labor depressed and didn’t bounce back after delivery.
Rachel had been impatient with Juliet in the months following Michael’s birth. She’d tried to hide her irritation, and she’d given her pep talks, perhaps more vigorous than necessary, but Rachel was overwhelmed by Juliet’s depression and her sister’s inability to care for the baby. Work was stressful with rounds of layoffs due to the economic downturn, and God knows, they needed Rachel to be employed. She was the only one keeping the family afloat.
But Rachel was barely coping herself. Mom was gone, Juliet wouldn’t get out of bed, the baby needed looking after and Rachel didn’t know what had happened to her life.
It wasn’t her life anymore.
A light knock sounded on the open door. Rachel looked up to see the young maid, Anna, standing in the doorway.
“Please, follow me,” Anna said in stilted English.
“Where?” Rachel asked, unable to move.
“I am to...walk you...to the door.”
“Where is my baby?”
Anna frowned.
“Michael. The bambino,” Rachel said, setting the cup down. “I cannot leave without him.”
“Sorry. Signor, he said the bambino he stays here. You...go.” She gestured to the door. “You come with me, please?”
“No. Absolutely not. I’m not leaving Michael here. Bring me the baby. Now.”
“I am sorry. I cannot. Signor will telephone you later, yes?”
Rachel was on her feet, crossing the room. “Where is he? Where is Signor Marcello?”
“He has gone to his office. I will show you to...down the stairs. Please come—” Anna broke off as Rachel brushed past her, stepping into the hall.
“Where is his office? Which direction?” Rachel demanded.
“No. Sorry.”
Rachel’s gaze swept the hall, certain that there were only more formal rooms on this floor. She glanced right, to the marble stairs they’d climbed earlier. The wide gleaming steps continued up at least another two floors.
She headed for the stairs and quickly climbed up. Anna chased after her, speaking in a stream of broken English and Italian.
Rachel ignored the girl. “Giovanni,” she called, her voice echoing in the stairwell. “Gio! Where are you?”
Her voice bounced off the marble and the high ceiling, but she wouldn’t stop until she found him. “I’m not leaving here, not without Michael. So if you want me to go, Gio, give me Michael and I’ll go, but there is no way I’d leave—”
“Enough.” A door at the end of the hall opened abruptly, and Giovanni appeared, expression dark. “You’ve done nothing but create a circus since you arrived this morning. My staff is not accustomed to screaming and shouting.”
“They are Italian. I seriously doubt they are shocked by genuine em
otion,” she retorted, marching down the hall toward him. “And you... How could you just go and leave me there like that?”
“I said goodbye. You were the one who refused to leave.”
“You knew I wouldn’t go without Michael.”
“You didn’t seem to have a problem leaving him here earlier.” He stared down at her, blue eyes snapping fire. “Are you sure you and your sister are not twins?”
He couldn’t have said anything more hurtful if he’d tried. Her eyes smarted and her throat sealed closed.
Giovanni was arrogant and condescending and lacked even the smallest shred of human compassion. Thank God he didn’t intimidate her. She’d worked with dozens of powerful men over the past five years, men who had incredible power and staggering fortunes and egos to match. They all liked to be flattered. They all felt entitled. They all needed to be right. Giovanni was no different. She’d never get what she wanted if she fought him. If she angered him. If she continued to alienate him.
Alienating him would just hurt Michael, and that wouldn’t be fair or right. Juliet had made mistakes. Her life had become such a mess. But Michael wasn’t a mess. Michael was pure and innocent, and that innocence had to be protected. Yes, she’d failed Juliet, but there was no way she’d fail Michael.
And so, even though a dozen different things came to mind, protests and rebukes, in the end her feelings didn’t matter. She didn’t matter. This was about her nephew, who’d been left without a mother or a father and needed someone to champion him. And that someone was her.
“I don’t care what you think of me,” she said unsteadily, “but I do care what you think about Michael. He did not ask to be born. He is innocent in all this. And whether you like it or not, he carries your brother’s name, and DNA, and if I have to go to your court to get him proper child support, I will.”
“I don’t doubt you would, but you’d find that our courts move at a snail’s pace compared to your courts. You could be waiting for six or eight, or even ten years, for any type of legal decision.”
That knocked her back, thoughts scattering, but then she managed a careless shrug and found her voice. “You’re happy to wage a public war for that long? It seems so unlike you, considering how much you value your privacy.”
