Sweeter Than Chocolate: Valentine's Day Anthology

by Gina Kincade

  Silence blanketed the table for a long moment, and she realized she'd shocked them all. Perhaps it was crude to speak of financial matters at a ball.

  Raul recovered first. "Who was your grandmother?" he asked, his tone nothing more than polite.

  "It's been many years since she died," Alessandra answered, "and she lived outside the city." She hoped that would silence their questions. Now that the moment to identify herself had arrived, she found herself strangely reluctant to speak.

  Why couldn't she just spit it out? What was the likelihood that anyone would remember an old lady who’d lived and died alone in the countryside?

  Raul raised his brows, as if he sensed her reluctance to be specific.

  "I'm sorry about your grandmother," Stephano said smoothly. "But as long as you have the proper paperwork, it should be easy to process your claim."

  Raul groaned. "Do not get him wound up. Stephano is a lawyer. Fun dies in his presence."

  "I'm always ready to help a beautiful lady." Stephano flashed a wink at Alessandra. "Who was your grandmother?"

  Alessandra wondered if he realized he'd repeated Raul's question. Was he the kind of lawyer who never let any detail slide? Or was he merely making conversation? His eyes regarded her steadily, as if they had the power to draw the information out of her.

  She stilled her trembling hands, hidden under the table. Really, there was no reason to be so apprehensive. The land she wanted was out in the country, unused, surrounded by virgin forest. Who would care if she claimed it?

  "My grandmother lived," she said calmly, "in the mountains near Daenos. Her name was Adela Ranieri."

  Raul had been lifting his wine glass as she spoke. At her words, he stared over the rim of the goblet. "It can't be," he said. His brows snapped together. "What is your name again?"

  She lifted her chin. "Alessandra Ranieri."

  "No." Raul thumped his wine goblet down on the table. His eyes flashed angrily.

  "What's wrong?" Mirella glanced from Alessandra to Raul, and then raised her eyebrows at Stephano, who merely shrugged.

  "You're not claiming to be Lessie Ranieri?" Raul said.

  Still unable to breathe, Alessandra nodded her head.

  Raul's hand slammed down on the table. The silverware clanked against fine china. Champagne sloshed in the crystal flutes.

  "I don't know what the hell you're doing," he barked, "sneaking in here without an invitation, defying our requested dress code, and plotting to steal an inheritance. But you are not Lessie Ranieri."

  Chapter Two

  Alessandra's heart stopped beating when Raul’s angry words lashed out at her. At least, she thought it did. She could still hear the music floating from the nearby ballroom, still see Stephano and Mirella exchanging glances across the table, still smell the rich scent of beef tenderloin.

  But her own body seemed frozen, her mind blank with shock. What had she said to make Raul so angry? Of course, she knew she had a tough role to play, since she lacked any proof of her claim, but she hadn't expected anyone to react with rage to her announcement.

  "I am Lessie Ranieri." She clutched her hands together under the ballroom table. She'd been prepared for skepticism, but not for outright denial of her claim. "I'm Adela Ranieri's granddaughter, and her only living relative. She always told me I'd have her home when she was gone."

  Stephano and Mirella sat watching with their mouths virtually agape, their food apparently forgotten.

  "Words spoken to a child," Raul snapped, "are not proof of a claim in any court of law. You'll have to do better than that."

  Alessandra lifted her chin in what she knew was a gesture of defiance. "What difference does it make to you?"

  He gave her a contemptuous glance. "Merely, I'm not fond of charlatans." He pushed back his chair suddenly and stood up. "I have obligations at this ball. Please excuse me."

  Alessandra was left sitting with Stephano and Mirella, both of whom seemed to be looking anywhere but at her. She wanted to leave, but she wasn't sure if her trembling legs would carry her.

  Fortunately, Mirella recovered quickly. "Don't mind Raul," she said, smiling gently. "He used to be the life of the party but lately, his temper has been a bit iffy."

  Stephano's eyes assessed her more coolly. "All the same, something set him off. Do you have any idea what it could be, Alessandra?"

  "Not at all." Stephano didn't have to believe her, either. But she wasn't going to turn tail and run.

  "I wonder if you have any identification on you?" Stephano's polished voice only hinted at skepticism.

  Alessandra raised her hands in a gesture of surrender. "Not even an evening purse. I thought I was coming to a ball, not an inquisition."

  "Perhaps the ball was not the right place to raise your claim." Stephano sighed. "Raul will calm down when he knows the facts."

  Alessandra took a deep breath. Start as you mean to go on. Her grandmother's voice echoed in her head. "I don't actually have proof of my Austrian identity. Yet."

  Mirella gasped, and even Stephano looked shocked. "What do you mean," he asked, "by 'yet'?"

  "I'm sure there's proof somewhere in the legal records of the country," Alessandra answered, "and that's what I mean to find."

  "Good luck," Stephano said, and his tone added, you're going to need it.

  Chapter Three

  "You met an intriguing man at the ball." Tem Plamen closed the door behind Alessandra, shutting out the cold night. She hurried into his cozy chalet style home, chilled from her cab ride home from the ball. Tem's dog Rosie, a golden retriever, followed closely behind them.

  Alessandra had been apprehensive about staying with Tem, despite his offer of a free room for as long as she stayed in Austria. But once she'd met the aged man, and his lovely dog, she'd felt completely at home. She'd been right to follow the advice in the letter she'd found when her mother died, the advice from her grandmother to look up her old friend. Unlike Raul, Tem had welcomed her without question, never quizzing her on her identity. He'd explained that Adela Ranieri had been one of his closest friends and he would do anything in his power to assist any grandchild of hers.

  Tonight, on her second night in his modest home, Alessandra hurried over to the dying blaze in the hearth of his front room to warm her hands. "I met a jerk," she corrected Tem. "Not an intriguing man."

  "The same thing," Tem murmured, "when it's all new. What did he do?"

  "He didn't believe who I was!"

  Tem frowned, his still-black eyebrows a contrast to his silver gray hair that flowed back from his forehead. "What reason would he have to disbelieve you?"

  "That's just it! He doesn't have any." She drew off her worn coat that contrasted so poorly with the evening gown, and tossed it on the fireside bench. Her best friend at home, Cindy Norton, had lent Alessandra her one evening gown and her one pair of dress shoes to use on this trip. The two women had both spent almost four years working as paralegals, with plans to start law school next year. They didn't have budgets that stretched to fancy wardrobes.

  "Sit down, Alessandra." Tem followed his own recommendation, easing himself into the worn brown leather club chair he kept close to the fire. "Tell me everything that happened. Starting with the man's name."

  "His name is Raul. Raul Winthrop." Merely saying his name sparked excitement within Alessandra, but the excitement was mixed with anger.

  Shock crossed Tem's face. "Not the heir to the Stirling dukedom?"

  "Yes. Who else?" Still standing, she turned from the fire to look at him.

  Tem was silent for a moment, steepling his hands like he did when he was thinking. "I never liked the idea of you going to that ball. I don't understand why you thought you had to do it."

  "I told you. I wanted to try out my identity in a group of strangers, to see if there would be any reaction to my name." Even to Tem, she couldn't disclose the truth. Although he was wonderful, opening his house to her merely on the strength of one letter she'd brought to him, still, s
he'd only met him two days ago. She couldn't be too trusting. She couldn't tell him she'd taken her two weeks of vacation from work at this time specifically to come to this ball.

  "Everyone in Austria is a stranger to you," Tem pointed out.

  "True." She crossed her fingers behind her back at the lie.

  "There's trouble in the Stirling family," Tem finally said. "But I suppose you aren't likely to run into them again."

  "No, of course not." Alessandra wished she felt happier about that fact, or at least indifferent.

  "There's a pot of tea in the kitchen," Tem said. "Would you like some?"

  "Let me change out of my dress, and then I'll bring in the tea." She wanted to take good care of the dress, which Cindy had worn as a maid of honor at her sister's wedding. Alessandra climbed the stairs, holding her ball gown high, feeling like Cinderella, climbing to the attic. Tem's second floor did, in fact, have two bedrooms with gabled walls, due to the traditional design of the house. But the rooms were not at all attic-like.

  Although the ceilings of her room were steeply pitched, the room itself was cozy, with a set of twin beds covered in thick comforters sprinkled with tiny green and white flowers. She had a tall wardrobe on the wall next to the door, and a smaller dresser under one of the eaves. She hung up her gown carefully in the wardrobe, and pulled on warm sweats. Tem didn't care what she wore.

  He was that rare kind of person who always looked only for what was inside a person.

  In the small kitchen, she poured out their hot tea —plain for Tem, and a little honey added for her. She carried the two cups into the main room on a hand-painted wooden tray.

  "Thank you, Alessandra." Tem reached for his tea.

  She tried not to notice the fine tremble in his hands. Although she'd just met him, she'd grown quite attached to him. But she couldn't pry into his health yet.

  "Tell me about the Stirlings." She grabbed the old ottoman, pulled it close to Tem, and sat down.

  "The title, of course, is English." Tem sipped his tea, and then placed his cup on the tray Alessandra had set on a scarred end table beside him. "The Duchess, however, was born and raised here in Austria, in the castle they presently occupy."

  "Why do they live in Austria if they’re British?"

  "That I do not know. They are way above my touch," Tem said, "and yours too, young lady. Don't go getting stars in your eyes."

  She managed a laugh. "Don't worry. Raul was rude to me. And I'm not a masochist."

  Tem's penetrating gaze met hers, and she tried to maintain a guileless face. She might fantasize about the Stirling heir, but she knew she had to keep her thoughts safely in fantasy land.

  Not only was Raul far out of her league, whatever interest he might have originally had in her had been scotched when she told him her name. The very last person she needed to associate with in Austria was one who didn't believe she was who she intended to be.

  Chapter Four

  "What in the hell is wrong with you?" Stephano laid his laptop down on Raul's antique desk and flipped it open. "Why did you make such a scene last night at the ball? It's not every day we meet a new woman like Alessandra. Then you start barking at her about some piece of land that couldn't possibly be important."

  "The hell it couldn't." Raul threw a folder down on the same desk in the ducal library. The information his real estate lawyer had printed out was scanty enough to be worthless. "That land she's claiming is exactly the piece of land I'm trying to buy for the ski resort."

  Stephano's jaw dropped. "That last piece of land that you haven't been able to get your hands on?"

  "Bingo. Without that land, we have no hope of building a resort there. There's no other spot flat enough for the buildings, the parking lots, and all the other infrastructure we need."

  Stephano dropped into a chair and pondered the news for a few minutes. When he sat forward, his eyes were alert, and Raul knew he was ready to start analyzing the situation with his razor sharp mind. "Are you sure," Stephano said, "that we're talking about the same piece of land?"

  "Am I sure," Raul retorted, "that you and I sneaked out of boarding school when we were only fifteen to hook up with townies who were five years older than us?"

  "I only went along to make sure you were safe from those older women," Stephano said with a grin. "And here I am, still watching out for you."

  "A born busybody," Raul snorted.

  "If you had a brain, you’d value my counsel."

  "If I had a brain, I’d marry some rich bimbo and put all these problems behind me." Raul frowned at the folder in front of him. "You know the bankers from Finance Ltd. are coming out from London tomorrow to yank my chain."

  "They’re in a position to give it a good hard yank, too," Stephano said, "since you’re behind on the interest payments on the loan they gave you to buy up the mountain you need for your resort."

  "Hey, thanks for the attempt to cheer me up," Raul said sarcastically. "You have any more helpful hints?"

  "I do know some rich bimbos—"

  Raul waved a hand of dismissal. "I’m going to get that land, one way or another. I’ve been working with the title insurers to clear the title."

  Stephano raised his eyebrows. "Any success?"

  "We’ve discovered that the most recent occupant of that land was Adela Ranieri. I recognized the name immediately."

  "The grandmother."

  Raul nodded.

  "Ranieri is a common enough name," Stephano pointed out.

  "True. But Alessandra said Adela Ranieri. How many of them could there be?"

  Stephano shrugged. "Anything is possible."

  "It's the same land." Raul sighed. "I did some checking this morning. You know it's not far from here."

  "Okay." Stephano began typing on his computer. "Did the grandmother die recently?"

  "No. Roughly fifteen years ago."

  "I wonder why Alessandra is making a claim now?"

  "Good question," Raul said sourly. "A legitimate claimant would have appeared when the grandmother died, wouldn't you think?"

  "Yes." Stephano nodded. "Although Alessandra herself would have been a child at the time."

  "She's twenty-six now," Raul said absently, his mind sifting through the facts he knew. "There must be some relative between Alessandra and her grandmother. Where is that person? Why has he or she not made a claim?"

  Stephano shrugged. "Let's not worry about them right now. The bigger question is whether or not Alessandra is a legitimate heir."

  "She's not," Raul said, his tone certain. "The title for that land is murky at best. The house has been uninhabited since Adela died, and is basically uninhabitable at this point. I'm sure our impostor doesn't realize the uselessness of her quest. What could she want with the property anyway?"

  "The land has value to you," Stephano pointed out.

  "Whose side are you on?"

  "Yours, of course," Stephano said smoothly. "Despite the fact that you don't pay me anything for my efforts."

  Raul shifted uncomfortably. "I'll pay you when I can. You know that."

  "Now I’m the one yanking your chain. Don't rise to the bait so quickly." Stephano glanced at his computer. "I've gathered some preliminary data on this claimant."

  "Impostor," Raul snapped.

  Stephano raised his brows. "An impostor is no problem," he said mildly. "But a valid heir would torpedo your plans."

  "I know that," Raul said. "The question is, can we establish that she's as fake as her invitation to my ball?"

  "It's hard to prove a negative," was the unsatisfying response. "There won't be anything definitive like DNA evidence, short, I suppose, of digging up the grandmother."

  "It's been fifteen years. Would it be possible to prove anything after such a long time, even supposing we could raise the dead?"

  Stephano shrugged. "I'm not a genetics expert. I do know it would require a court order to disinter someone. I don't think we want to do that. At least not yet."

  "What do
you suggest, then?"

  Stephano tapped his foot against the ancient carpet. "Let's not forget, she has to prove her claim, more than we have to disprove it."

  "But time is not on our side. I need that land, and I need it yesterday." Raul pushed back his chair, stood up and began pacing. "How long will the courts let her pussyfoot around, trying to claim this and that?"