LITMIR.BIZ

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she was more than equipped to be his equal lessened a fraction of the guilt trying to eat at him.

      He would not allow himself to feel guilt. After what her father had done, guilt and empathy had no place in his life.

      Gabriele’s father had worked hard all his life, had been a loyal and faithful husband, father, employer and friend. To see his reputation trashed and the anguish it had caused, along with his father’s bewilderment that the man he’d considered a brother had been the root of it all...

      ‘It’s one thing wanting to hurt my father but why are you dragging me into it?’ she asked, shaking her head. ‘I’ve done nothing to you. I don’t even know you.’

      ‘Because I know you’re as guilty as he is. Even if you didn’t have a direct hand in the framing of my father, you did nothing to stop it. Your father is a monster yet you act as if he were a deity. You should consider yourself lucky that I’m giving you this chance. Be in no doubt, the FBI will find evidence against you and your brothers too.’ Gabriele rose from the table. ‘I appreciate it’s a lot for you to take in so I shall give you some time to think things through.’

      ‘How long? How long, damn you?’

      He looked at his watch. ‘I want your decision by the time we reach Tampa Bay.’

      ‘I can’t...’ She swallowed, her face pinched and furious. ‘I can’t. It’s impossible.’

      ‘You can. The choice will ultimately be yours. Just bear in mind that should you choose the wrong option, your father will spend what’s left of his miserable life in a prison cell. There might even be a cell with your name on it too.’

      As he walked back indoors, the feel of her hate-filled eyes burning into his back, he took some deep breaths to dislodge the uncomfortable, cramp-like feeling that had settled in his chest.

      * * *

      A hot shower made Elena feel cleaner but not at all better.

      She’d sat outside on the deck for almost an hour, trying hard to think but being unable to drag up a coherent thought.

      She should never have taken the long weekend off work.

      She’d hardly taken any time off in the past year: since Gabriele had started his whispering campaign she hadn’t dared. She’d wanted her employees and the Ricci shareholders to see her relaxed and unworried. An average week would see her travel to a minimum of four countries. Yes, she travelled by private jet but even thirty thousand feet in the air there was no respite to be had. Always there was paperwork to catch up on, emails to send and reply to, daily conference calls with her father.

      A fortnight ago she’d caught a cold that wouldn’t shift. As the days had passed her energy levels had sapped. Getting out of bed had become a feat of endurance. Then, on Thursday, she’d sat through a board meeting in Oslo fighting to keep her eyes open. As soon as it had finished she’d dragged herself into her office, sank onto the sofa and promptly fallen asleep. While she’d slept she’d dreamt of the family Caribbean island, bought two decades ago, and had woken knowing she needed a break. She didn’t need a doctor to tell her she was in danger of burnout.

      Their home on the island was big enough that all the family could come and go as they pleased. As a rule, they notified the household staff so preparations could be made, but on this fateful occasion she’d decided what she needed more than anything was peace. Just the thought of being completely alone—obviously with the exception of the unobtrusive security guards—had lifted her spirits.

      Three days of solitude and sunshine...

      She’d arrived on the island late yesterday afternoon. She’d dumped her case in the house and then decided to do something she hadn’t done since she was a child, and head to the south of the island where the clear shallow waters allowed her to wade far out, and catch a fish for her supper.

      Her belly rumbled as she recalled how she’d never had a chance to eat her catch, a juvenile foot-long barracuda.

      The sun had gone down and she’d built a small fire on the beach. Her barracuda had been almost cooked to perfection when shouts had distracted her.

      She’d assumed one of the security guards had injured himself and rushed off through the woods to help.

      Luck had not been on her side. She’d stepped onto the main drive that cut through the woods at the exact moment the man clad head to foot in black had stepped out of the house. He couldn’t miss her.

      She’d been rooted to the ground, her shock so great she’d been unable to move more than a muscle. It was as if her brain had been incapable of comprehending that there was a stranger before her and that this stranger represented danger.

      Then the adrenaline had kicked in and she’d turned to run but by then it had been too late—the man had already yelled for back-up and was powering towards her. So she’d done the only thing she could. She’d opened her throat and screamed, literally, for her life.

      Thank the Lord that Gabriele had heard it. She couldn’t bear to think of what would have happened if he hadn’t, or if he’d ignored it.

      Her wrists were still sore from where that man had tied her to the bed. He hadn’t cared if he hurt her. Indeed, she would guess he got off on it.

      It was this knowledge, that Gabriele had put himself in danger to rescue her, that tempered the fury ravaging her entire body. Even her toes were angry.

      But he had saved her. He’d put himself in grave danger for her. When he’d slung her over his shoulder there had been an understandable impatience but not a roughness. Hurting her had been the last thing on his mind.

      A bitter laugh flew from her mouth. She’d bet he wouldn’t have bothered coming to her rescue if he’d known that it was she who was in danger.

      Or maybe he would have.

      Saving her had presented him with an opportunity and he was grabbing it with both enormous hands.

      It felt as if needles were being pushed into her scalp and forehead.

      She couldn’t marry him. She’d never heard such a ridiculous notion in her life. Marrying a man she barely knew and who was intent on destroying her entire family?

      And to have his child? To bring a child into such a hate-filled nest of poison?

      Yet it was the only way to save her family. Those forged documents had the potential to destroy them all and she was the only one who could stop it happening.

      No wonder her head hurt so much.

      Forcing herself to gather her wits, Elena hunted around the cabin for something clean to wear as Esmerelda had whisked her filthy clothes away. All she found was a white silk robe hanging in the wardrobe. It felt beautiful on her skin but one look in the mirror made her whip it off. The material was practically transparent.

      Esmerelda had brought some clothes for her to change into but judging by the size and quality of them, they belonged to Gabriele.

      It was with great reluctance that she slipped a black T-shirt on. It fell to her knees and looked like a sack. Much better.

      What wasn’t better was the faint trace of cologne permeating through the fabric cleaner. It had to be Gabriele’s. It smelt too much like him to belong to anyone else. She hated that it was a scent she found appealing.

      As Esmerelda had whisked her underwear away with the rest of her clothes, Elena reluctantly donned the accompanying shorts. They swamped her.

      Holding the shorts up to stop them falling down and trying to forget she had Gabriele’s scent clinging to her, she set out to find him.

      Retracing the route through the cavernous interior, she found her way to the top deck. She stood at the rail that overlooked the pool deck below, was about to turn back when a figure in the pool made her do a double-take.

      Instinct told her it was Gabriele powering his way through the water.

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