Truly A Match (Rocky Mountain Matchmaker Book 4)

by Tamra Baumann

  All he could do was ignore his father and hope he wanted those payments for the rest of the year more than he wanted to go to the police. But then, what would happen after the money stopped coming in the new year? Was he just putting a Band-Aid on a wound that needed stiches? He needed to find a permanent solution.

  After the last of her family and the photographers for Stella’s photo shoot left, Rachel closed the front door and then headed to the den to join the others. Her dad and brother had been hard on Marcello. She probably needed to make sure he wasn’t upset.

  When she walked into the den, she smiled. The puppies were so tired from playing with Emily and Asher, they had put themselves to bed in their crate. They were snoozing soundly with the door open. Ally had a twin propped up on each side of her on the couch, wiping up dribbles as they drank from their bottles. Marcello was fast asleep in the big leather side chair with his feet propped up on the ottoman. It was big enough for two, so she slipped beside him and laid her head on his shoulder.

  She was tired too. They’d been making up for lost time last night and then in the morning. Twice. She’d protested when he wanted to join her in the shower because they’d be late, but Marcello said that was the beauty of owning his own plane. It flew on his schedule, not the other way around. It was a luxury she could get used to.

  “Ciao, bella,” Marcello whispered as he wrapped his arms around her. “I have a question. What’s a Hokey Pokey?”

  “It’s a song and dance we all learned as kids. So when we grow up we can get drunk at weddings and do it in a big circle.”

  Ally hopped up from the couch to demonstrate how it went. It made the babies laugh.

  He nodded. “Now Deek’s shirt makes sense.”

  She snuggled closer, hating that he was going to have to leave in the morning. For three long weeks. “After my dad’s and brother’s inquisitions, do you still want to join this circus called my family?”

  “Sì.” He laid a kiss on the top of her head. “They were just looking out for you. And on that same subject, you have a website for your work, no? Where people can leave you messages to contact you?”

  “Yep. That’s the point of having a webpage. To garner new business.” His tone had turned solemn, so she asked, “Do you think the press are going to use it to bother me now that they know who I am?”

  Ally said, “That’s for sure going to happen. Marcello gets all kinds of whack emails from his business account, and his isn’t even made public.”

  Crap. That was going to be a problem for her business. “What do you guys do to sort through them?”

  Ally raised her hand. “You’re looking at Marcello’s personal filtration system. I check his email every day and only pass on the important ones.”

  Marcello said, “Maybe Ally could do the same for you? And did I mention that I hired round-the-clock security for you here at the house too?”

  Alarmed, she sat up. “Do you think the press is going to be that bad? Even after you gave them that speech about leaving us alone?”

  Ally said, “Yes. They’re cockroaches. It’s why Marcello can’t fly commercial, doesn’t go out to eat at restaurants, and never goes to public places like the movies. It’s like he’s a prisoner in his own home sometimes. Luckily, it’s a damn nice home, but still.”

  Rachel’s biggest fears for their children’s privacy and safety were coming true. “Maybe I should look for something in a gated neighborhood? I don’t want the press camped out at the curb and following us around.” And she really didn’t want to become a prisoner in her own home like Ally described.

  Marcello laid a hand on her face. “Bella, stop. Let’s just wait and see what happens. If it gets to be too much, you can go back to my house. It’s all set up to keep the press away.”

  “Yeah. And the freaks,” Ally said. “Let’s not forget about them.”

  “That’s enough,” Marcello snapped. “Stella’s plan to release pictures and stories on a regular basis will work to help keep the press easily fed. It’ll all be taken care of.”

  Freaks? “Have you had real threats? Like stalkers?”

  Marcello’s eyes cut to Ally’s in a silent don’t say a word.

  “You have. Wow.” She slid out of the chair to pace. And to think.

  What had she gotten the kids into? “Why haven’t you ever mentioned that to me before, Marcello?”

  “Because I don’t spend my days worrying about it.” He stood and wrapped her up in a hug. “I’ve never been hurt, bella. And I promise to make sure you and the kids are always protected. So, please, let Ally help you. She’s used to it all and knows what to do if there is a real threat. Then we don’t have to worry about this anymore, sì?”

  Easy for him to say.

  Not so easy for her to do.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Smooth sailing only means the storm hasn’t hit yet.

  Asharp knock sounded on Rachel’s front door at nine o’clock in the evening. It made her jump. Probably the security guard checking in before the evening shift change. Even after almost three weeks and only a handful of disturbances, she still had a hard time getting used to all the people trooping around outside her house all day and night.

  Ally called out from the den, “I got it.”

  Rachel suspected Ally was crushing on Randy, the afternoon guard, so she let her answer the door. And nine o’clock was a good time to call it a day’s work, so she closed her laptop. It was Friday, and the kids were all tucked in. Time to pop a cork, make some popcorn, and watch a movie.

  When Rachel passed the front hallway, there was some pretty heavy flirting going on, so she headed for the kitchen and prepared for their Friday-night movie-thon. It had become a nice habit. That and going shopping for groceries with Ally and all her chef-y skills on Saturday afternoons. Not to jinx things, but she and Ally might actually be becoming friends.

  Grabbing Ally’s favorite flavored water and two bowls filled to the brim with buttery kernels, she headed for the den and laid out Ally’s things on the coffee table. Rachel poured a glass of wine and then flopped into her favorite chair and settled in. It reminded her of when she’d shared the same chair with Marcello. She’d missed him so much the last few weeks.

  Only a few days before he came back, though, so she wouldn’t dwell. But he hadn’t answered her text from hours ago, which was odd, so she dug her phone from her sweats to see if she’d missed his reply. Nothing. He must’ve been tied up on set doing night shots or something.

  Ally joined her and sat on the couch. “Thanks for the popcorn. What are we watching?”

  Rachel handed over the remote. “Whatever you like. I’ve had a long week and probably won’t make it until the end anyway.”

  Ally flipped through the guide and picked a movie. It was some dark story full of angst. It wouldn’t have been her first pick, but she’d just enjoy her wine and be happy things were going so well with Ally, the kids, and Marcello. She couldn’t ask for much more in life at the moment.

  A half hour later, when Ally picked up the remote and paused the movie to get more popcorn, Rachel said, “I meant to ask earlier, has Randy ever asked you out?”

  Ally shook her head. “Apparently, Marcello left strict instructions that none of them were allowed to take an ‘interest’ in me. Geez. He’s so overly protective. Be right back.”

  Rachel smiled inwardly. He’d probably be even worse by the time Hannah got old enough to date. She called out to the kitchen, “Have you heard from Marcello today?”

  Ally returned with the rest of the popcorn. “No. I asked him something this morning, and he still hasn’t responded. But he does that sometimes.” She started the movie again.

  He never did that with her, though. Marcello always answered right away. But it was late in the east. And he’d mentioned they were working overtime the past few nights to wrap up the movie. She’d call him first thing in the morning and make sure everything was okay.

  Since the movie wasn’t keeping
her attention, she opened the browser on her phone to see what was happening in the world. She flipped through the headline boxes until one caught her eye. It was of Marcello and a woman. A dark-haired, beautiful woman at a restaurant in Canada.

  Rachel’s heart raced as she scanned the article that speculated on their relationship. She knew better than to overreact. Marcello had business meetings with women all the time. Probably just an actress or one of the assistants they provide on set. Nothing to worry about. He probably just wanted some real food after eating so many on-set dinners.

  Getting a text back from him would make her feel a whole lot better, though.

  Marcello’s heart pounded as he sat at the small table in the bar across from a Polizia. He recognized her from when they were kids in their village. She’d shown up on his set at the end of filming for the day and insisted they talk. He’d had a hard time taking a full breath of air ever since.

  Seems his father had called his bluff, the bastard.

  He cleared the apprehension from his throat. “Thank you for waiting to meet me until after work.” He removed any trace of accent from his voice. “Now what’s this nonsense about me being someone else?” If ever he needed his acting skills, it was now.

  Gina Vicenti frowned at him. “Please, Lorenzo. We grew up two blocks from each other. Your father has confirmed your identity.”

  He shook his head and sucked down half his gin and tonic. “I don’t know who my father is. You can check my birth records. So, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to the set.” He started to go, but Gina laid a hand over his wrist to stop him.

  “If you’ll come with me quietly, not make us file extradition papers, we’re prepared to offer you a reduced sentence.”

  “You’ve got the wrong man.”

  She smiled patiently. “If you leave now, you’ll earn yourself a week or two of freedom while we do the paperwork, before serving your full sentence. You’ve already confessed to the crime.”

  He swallowed back the rising bile in his throat. “I haven’t committed a crime.”

  “A DNA test will confirm who you are Lorenzo, so you might as well sit down and listen.”

  She was right. A simple test would be all they needed.

  He was caught. After over twenty years of hiding. With nowhere else to go with a recognizable face like his.

  He turned to see how far the exit was. He could make a break for it. But then what? His secret was blown. There was no going back.

  He wanted to be sick.

  With no other choice, he sat again. “My father is a blackmailer. I’ll see he serves time too.”

  She shook her head as she sipped her wine. “Your father traded immunity for his crimes against you, in return for helping us close the coldest case in our village.”

  Ally had intercepted an email his father had sent to Rachel earlier. He had to find a way to protect Rachel and the kids from him. “I have just one more day of filming. Can I do my job, and then go with you? But only if you will guarantee that my father will never contact Rachel or our children again. If you can’t do that, then you’ll have to file your papers and hope you can find me after.”

  Gina drummed her fingers on the table. “I’ll request that your father’s arrangement only stay in place with no further contact. But I’ll wait no more than twenty-four hours for you.”

  That was something at least. “I’m going to fight the charges. I’m innocent.” He’d hire the best Italian lawyers, people familiar with the laws of his small village.

  She shrugged. “Your choice. But you’ll sit in jail during the trial because you escaped from the police station, so maybe you should hear what the judge says before you do that. Trials can take many years.”

  That was true. He’d watched the trial of an American student stretch out for five or six years before she was freed. How could he be away from Rachel and the kids for so long? And what about his career? But facing the charges might be the only way to eliminate his father’s ability to blackmail him. Actually, it was the only way to 100% ensure the problem would stop. And he’d get his life back. But not until he spent years behind bars to get it.

  What was he going to tell Rachel? Would it be fair to ask her to wait? “Fine. I’ll be ready tomorrow evening. Should I meet you at the airport?”

  Gina finished off her glass of wine. “I’m not letting you out of my sight until I deliver you to the judge, as were my orders. I’ll make us reservations on the ten o’clock flight tomorrow night.”

  “Okay.” He needed to think. Alone. “I’m going back to my trailer. Do what you want, but you can’t stay with me. Rumors on the set will be hurtful to my fiancée.”

  Gina stood and grabbed her coat. “More hurtful than watching you sit in jail for many years? Because I don’t see any way around that, Lorenzo, deal or not. You should do the right thing and let her go. Believe me, they never wait until the end of a sentence anyway.”

  Let Rachel go? After trying so hard to win her back? There had to be another way.

  They walked in silence to the restaurant’s front entrance. As soon as the doors parted, the familiar blinding lights hit. The paparazzi must’ve followed them earlier. They’d been camped outside the set, but he thought he’d ditched them by going out the service entrance in a delivery van.

  Merda! That meant Rachel was going to see the pictures. He needed to send her a text and explain.

  He ran for the same van that had dropped them off. The driver opened the door for him, and he jumped in. And then Gina appeared by his side. He didn’t have time to argue. He’d call her a cab once they got back to the set. He told the driver, “Go. Now!”

  The driver stomped on the gas and took off. But what good was it going to do to drive like a maniac? All the press knew it was him and where they were going.

  His mind raced for an option that would be best for everyone. He could tell Rachel the truth. She wouldn’t hesitate to help. She was a lawyer, but one who wrote international trade contracts, not someone familiar with Italian criminal trials. But she’d never give up on him, and that was a comfort.

  Was it fair of him to take advantage of that, though? He couldn’t bear the disgrace she and the kids were going to face when the charges came to light. It could be years before the truth came out. And no one would want to hire an actor with an attempted murder charge, no matter if he were acquitted or not. The cloud of suspicion never fully left those accused.

  He was screwed any way he looked at it.

  Why couldn’t this have happened before he’d worked so hard to win Rachel back? When it would have only affected him, and not his children and the woman he loved, before the world found out about them?

  He refused to take Rachel and the kids down with him. But how to be sure Rachel would let him go? He’d never let go of her. He’d wait for as long as it took if their roles were reversed.

  Rachel deserved better than that.

  The only way she’d let him go was if she thought he’d changed his mind about them. It had to be fairer to hurt her now. She could move on to a better life, before the kids were old enough to understand the shame. All would be forgotten in a few years if he disappeared from the spotlight while he sat in jail.

  Could he be so cruel to her, even though it’d be for her own good?

  Rachel awoke on Saturday morning, puzzling over why it was so bright in her room. She whipped her head toward her bedside clock and yelped. It was after ten in the morning. And Ally’s day off.

  She threw back the covers, grabbed her robe, and headed down the hallway. She stopped in the kids’ room, but they weren’t there. She found everyone in the den, the kids snoozing in their swings and the puppies happily chewing on raw hide bones as if Ally were trying to purposely keep it quiet in the house. She whispered, “I’m so sorry I overslept.”

  “It’s okay. You seemed really tired last night, and I was up early anyway. Can I make you some oatmeal? Or maybe a veggie omelet? I noticed you really like those.”


  Something was up. Not that Ally hadn’t been perfectly great to live with after the first day or two, but she was acting strange. Hardly looking her in the eye, and being especially nice, like Rachel had just learned she had cancer or something. “No, but thanks. I’ll just go make some coffee, and you can do whatever you had planned for the day.”

  Rachel went to the kitchen and grabbed a mug. After she loaded up the coffee pod, she picked up her phone from the charger and sat at the table in the nook to read her email. Ally appeared, glanced at the phone in Rachel’s hand, and then joined her.

  “Is something wrong, Ally?” Rachel laid the phone down.

  She nodded. “I need to tell you something before you read your email.”

  The coffee maker beeped, so she held up a finger. “Hold that thought.” Rachel grabbed her hot mug and then joined Ally again. “Okay. Shoot.”

  Ally’s gaze dropped to the table. “I know you only gave me permission to read your business emails. But Marcello asked me to read your personal email too. He was worried about a man who’d been making threats.”

  Rachel’s stomach dropped. “Against me and the kids?”

  “No. The emails are taken care of. It’s not that. It’s the one Marcello sent you. Sometimes they aren’t really from Marcello when scammers get ahold of his email address, so I opened it. I saw it, and now I can’t unsee it. I just wanted to go on record and say, I’m sorry. And that I don’t understand how he could do something like this. It makes no sense.” She rose from her chair and gave Rachel a hug. Then she walked out of the kitchen.

  What the heck?

  Rachel picked up her phone and scrolled through her emails, until she saw one from Marcello. She quickly opened it.