The Italian Inheritance

by Louise Rose-Innes

  “It’s complicated,” he said, leaning back in his chair. It was a black leather director’s chair on a swivel base. His long legs stretched right under the desk. “Signore Albertosi is a very important man. In the interests of his privacy I had to turn you away.”

  “Surely that is for Mr. Albertosi to decide?” Who was he to dictate who her father should and shouldn’t see?

  His dark eyes narrowed. “Actually, in this case it is my decision. I represent Signore Albertosi. I am his attorney.”

  Attorney! That means he knows where Giovanni is.

  “I understand that,” began Anna, trying her best to be diplomatic. “And clearly Mr. Albertosi has a lot of faith in your... discretion. But with respect, you don’t even know what my case is. How do you know Mr. Albertosi doesn’t want to see me?”

  The laptop whirred quietly as Vialli stared at her contemplatively. He pursed his lips a couple of times, as if trying to make a decision. Finally he took a deep breath and opened a draw, pulling out a notepad.

  “Your full name again, please?” he asked, as if the previous conversation had not taken place. Anna blinked. “I’ve just given you my name.”

  “For the record.”

  Anna gritted her teeth. “Anna Maria Crawford. Look, I really don’t understand...”

  “Address?”

  Anna frowned at the interruption. “I don’t understand what this has to do with anything?”

  Vialli’s gaze rose impatiently. “It’s for a background check. I have to vet everybody who wants to see Signore Albertosi.”

  “A background check? Crumbs. Whatever for? I just want to say hello to the man. Why is that so difficult?”

  “It’s for security purposes. Like I said, he is a very important man. If you’ll just answer the questions, we can get to your business a lot quicker.” His impatience was evident in the taunt stance of his hard upper body.

  Anna gave her address. She was getting more and more confused.

  “Who is Giovanni Albertosi to warrant all this security?” she enquired. Perhaps he was a politician or someone of local importance. She’d certainly never heard the name before.

  “I’m afraid I can’t answer that,” he intoned. Anna wondered how many times in his life he’d said that sentence. He made a good lawyer, cold, emotionless.

  “Do you have a copy of your passport with you?”

  Anna sighed. “I do.” She reached into her handbag and put it down on the large mahogany desk. It was so wide he had to stretch to retrieve it. At this point it could have been a mountain between them and Anna suspected it was going to be a long, hard climb before she got anything out of him.

  But what choice did she have? Unfortunately, this man was her only lead. She had to go along with his stupid questions before he’d give her any information about Giovanni. That much was crystal clear. She glanced at his stony face. Nope. Nothing was getting past this guy.

  He opened the document and glanced at the photograph, then up at her face. She smiled sarcastically. Yes, it’s me.

  “I’ll be right back.” He strode to the door and pulled it open. He asked the receptionist something in Italian, probably to make a copy, and came back inside. This time instead of sitting in his swivel chair he leant casually against the front of the desk, studying her.

  Anna raised her eyebrows. “Anything else before we get down to business? A urine sample, perhaps?”

  He had the grace to smile. A tiny smile that played at the corner of his lips. Anna noticed, rather irrationally, that they were full, sexy lips. Not hard and thin like his demeanour predicted.

  “My secretary will make a copy of your passport. Don’t worry. You’ll get it back shortly. Now, why don’t you tell me why you want to find Signore Albertosi?”

  “Well, it’s a personal mater. I’ve come all the way from London to see him. I’m sure if you just explain the situation to him, he’ll be happy to see me.”

  Anna really didn’t feel like telling this man about her mother’s affair twenty-six years ago, the subsequent letter that was never posted and her own hopes and dreams of finally meeting her father. He wouldn’t understand. Her gaze fell from his humourless face to his broad chest. He didn’t appear to have a compassionate bone in his hard, toned body.

  Rafael sighed. “I’m afraid that is not possible. Unless I know what business it is you have with him, I can’t let you see him. It’s for his own safety.”

  The man was incorrigible. Anna stared at him in frustration. Why did he have to make everything so difficult? Then his words sunk in.

  “His own safety? Is he unwell?” The fact that he might be sick hadn’t even occurred to her.

  The attorney looked like he didn’t know how to answer. Anna gave him an odd look. “Is he sick?” she repeated, urgently.

  “No, he’s not sick,” he said slowly, folding his arms across his chest and gazing at her through narrowed eyes.

  “Oh, thank God for that.” Why was the lawyer looking at her so suspiciously? Perhaps there was something else wrong with Giovanni. “Is he in trouble then?” She was grasping at straws, making wild guesses in the hope that Vialli would give something away.

  “No, what do you mean?” Vialli looked concerned.

  “I mean he’s not in jail or anything is he?” Maybe her father was a gangster or even worse, Mafioso—after all this was Italy. Now that put a different spin on things. She gulped. Was it possible she could be related to a criminal?

  It struck her how little she actually knew about her father. If only her mother had opened up to her about Giovanni before she’d died. Maybe then she’d have a bit more to go on than a faded address on a crumpled old envelope.

  “Definitely not,” came the horrified reply.

  Relief flooded Anna’s body. Okay, so he wasn’t ill and he wasn’t in jail. Good start. At least she’d ruled out those two options. Suddenly Anna felt like she was playing a game of charades with a total stranger. For that’s what this had been so far—a guessing game. An urge to giggle rose in her throat. It must be nervous tension. Luckily her gurgle was masked by the office door opening and the secretary waltzing in with her passport.

  “Grazie, Christina.”

  Anna didn’t miss the provocative body language or the sultry smile as Christina handed the passport over to her boss. Interesting. Either the girl was smitten or Vialli was sleeping with his secretary. Not that Anna cared either way. She watched Vialli’s eyes flicker in acknowledgement, but his face remained stoic. It was hard picturing him opening up to anyone, let alone sleeping with them. He was so... contained, so obviously in control of his every emotion.

  Her eyes darted back to Christina, leaving the room. She supposed the girl was sexy in her figure-hugging skirt and white shirt unbuttoned low enough to show off an admirable cleavage. Clearly it worked for Vialli.

  Anna turned her attention back to Vialli who had returned to his casual half-sitting, half-standing stance against his desk. Being only a few feet away from her, Anna had to crane her neck to look up at him.

  “So getting back to Giovanni,” she began, shifting her tall frame to better see him. “I’m trying to understand why all this security is necessary. It seems to me that you’re going to an awful lot of effort to vet someone as harmless as myself, for no reason. I’m hardly a threat to the man. I just want to see him.”

  “If you tell me why, I might be able to help you,” replied Vialli, unflinchingly. He really was like a brick wall. And his intimidation tactics weren’t working either. Anna was getting a stiff neck. She stood up.

  “Okay. You win.” Being almost six feet tall she was practically eye-to-eye with him. He didn’t react like most people did to her unusual height, in that his expression remained unchanged. He maintained his stationary position against the desk.

  Anna put her hands on her hips. She may as well tell him the whole story. This meeting was going nowhere fast and she was tired of dancing around him. “I bring news from a friend of his.”


  “Who is the friend?” His hands rested easily in his pockets, but Anna could tell by his stance and the muscles tensing in his neck and jaw that he was anything but relaxed.

  “Carmen Crawford. My mother.” Just saying her mother’s name brought a catch to her throat. Suddenly she felt tired and emotional, but instead of buckling, her natural tenacity kicked in and she met his gaze determinedly.

  “Tell me more...” he said softly.

  “Giovanni met my mother a long time ago. Here in Capri. They became friends. In fact, I think they had an affair.”

  She paused to gather her thoughts. Vialli was watching her intently. “An affair?”

  Anna nodded. “Yes, twenty-six years ago. Here in Capri. I’m not sure how it happened, the details are so sketchy. I only found out myself a few days ago.”

  Vialli blinked and pushed away from the desk. At his full height he was still a good few inches above Anna. She was back to looking up at him.

  “So what you’re saying is Giovanni and your mother had an affair and...” He gazed at her warily.

  “Yes,” Anna confirmed, correctly guessing where his thoughts were going. “I am the result of that affair. I’m Giovanni’s daughter.”

  Now how did I know she was going to say that?

  Rafael sighed. Another one. It was just as he thought. Damn Giovanni for causing all this chaos.

  If only the press hadn’t published the story in the local news, then none of these hopefuls would even know about the unclaimed fortune. Unfortunately, it was a human interest story of mammoth proportions.

  WEALTHY BUSINESSMAN LEAVES FORTUNE TO ILLEGITIMATE LOVE CHILD

  Rafael had been shocked when Giovanni told him he’d changed his will. He remembered the day like it was yesterday.

  Giovanni’s face, flushed with fever. An urgency in his direct blue gaze that Rafael had never seen before.

  “It was before I married Rosa,” Giovanni had gasped, gripping Rafael’s hand. “She was English and so very beautiful. There was a baby...”

  At Rafael’s incredulous expression he continued, “I saw her with my own eyes.”

  “But why didn’t you tell me?” He’d never heard of this illegitimate child before. All these years Giovanni had kept the secret to himself.

  “Rosa...” he whispered. “I couldn’t do it to Rosa. It was better that she never knew.” Rosa, Giovanni’s wife, had died only the year before.

  “So you actually went to England, and saw this child? Your child?”

  The old man had nodded. “Yes, I went... A long time ago... I had to see her just once.”

  “Well, where is she?” Rafael had asked. He wanted confirmation, proof of the child’s existence. The story was so unreal he had to verify it.

  But Giovanni just shook his head. His memory was fading and he was consumed with pneumonia. “You can find her.” He’d patted Rafael’s hand weakly.

  Rafael looked doubtfully at Giovanni. “What do you want me to do?”

  “I want her provided for.” It was an order, a hint of the powerful man he once was. “I’ve changed my will. Please see that it’s drawn up...” He broke off as a coughing fit wracked his body. When he could breathe again he gasped, “... quickly.”

  Giovanni had handed him a worn piece of paper, which Rafael recognised as the original will.

  “Of course.”

  The new will had been drafted, printed and signed that very day. Giovanni’s illegitimate daughter would inherit half of her father’s fortune—and she didn’t even know it.

  This last act had caused infinite problems for Rafael. He looked at the beautiful young woman in front of him. Was she for real? He decided not to mention Giovanni’s death, or the inheritance just yet. If she was the latest in a line of clever con-women determined to help themselves to a portion of the Albertosi inheritance, then she already knew and if not, well, he still needed time to verify her claim.

  So he delivered the stock same answer he’d given all the others. “I’m sorry Miss Crawford, but I have known the Albertosi family for many years. Giovanni does not have any children.”

  In actual fact, he’d tried in vain to track down the illegitimate daughter in the weeks after Giovanni’s death, or rather his private investigator had. But without a name or an address to go on, it was literally like looking for a needle in a haystack the size of Great Britain.

  “Well, he does now,” she said, her face set determinedly.

  “You must be mistaken.”

  “I am not mistaken, Signore.” Anna stepped closer invading his private space. Rafael became dimly aware of a soft, floral scent that floated around her like an unseen aura. It teased his nostrils, daring him to take a deeper breath.

  “My mother had an affair with Giovanni Albertosi twenty-six years ago and I am the result! He had no idea my mother was pregnant when it ended.”

  Wrong. Giovanni was well aware that he had a child out of wedlock. Was that her first mistake?

  At his disbelieving look she blurted out, “It’s the truth! On my mother’s grave.” Then her face crumpled and she turned her head away.

  Very convincing. Still, his instincts were telling him she was lying and if there was one thing he’d learned over the years, it was to trust those instincts. They’d seen him through some dangerous times. Unfortunately he was still obliged to find out more about her story.

  There was a brief knock on the door and Christina poked her head around. “Excusi, Signore. There is a phone call for you. It is the Mayor.”

  Rafael held up a hand. “Please, take a seat,” he told Anna firmly. “This is important.”

  “Oh, for goodness sake,” puffed Anna, collapsing once again into the leather chair, a pained expression on her face.

  Rafael turned to the wall and rolled his eyes. Of all the days for one of Giovanni’s missing heirs to turn up, today was probably the worst.

  He’d just found out that one of Naples’ toughest industrialists was about to level his street kids’ shelter, a charity he’d started almost five years ago—to turn it into a parking lot! He had only hours to get an interdict to stop the process. As far as he was concerned, this trumped yet another attempt by some desperate, unknown woman staking her claim on the Albertosi inheritance.

  He picked up the phone.

  “Buongiorno, Gianni...”

  The conversation lasted a full five minutes. Rafael pleaded with the Mayor to award an interdict for the demolition scheduled to begin tomorrow morning. The Mayor was not as helpful as Rafael had hoped. He granted an extension until the following week, but then, he said, his hands were tied. Rafael would have to make alternative plans for the shelter.

  Rafael slammed down the receiver. Mancini must have the Mayor in his sleazy little pocket. Rafael had sensed fear in the Mayor’s voice. Not good.

  Ignoring Anna’s astonished stares, Rafael made a mental note to start looking for replacement properties immediately. He had not a moment to lose or else those kids would be out on the street.

  He turned back to Anna. “I apologise. Please give me a moment.”

  He was seething. He needed to calm down. Taking a deep breath, he walked to the window overlooking the quaint cobbled street with the jewellers and the patisserie and got his breathing under control. Rafael hated feeling trapped and right now, that’s exactly what he was. Trapped and powerless. People could be bastards where money was concerned. This was exactly the reason why he trusted no one.

  Forcing his mind back to the issue at hand he said impatiently, “So, where were we? Ah, yes. The alleged affair. Where did it take place?”

  Anna looked like she might argue with his choice of wording, then thought better of it. “Here, in Capri, although I’m not sure what my mother was doing here.”

  Interesting.

  “And you say this all happened twenty-six years ago?”

  “Yes. The year before I was born.”

  How convenient.

  Rafael studied her cautiously looking for
some indication that she was telling the truth. Her story was full of holes. She didn’t even know how her mother had met Giovanni. How could she not know that if she was the real daughter? Surely her mother must have told her. Besides, there was no family resemblance.

  Giovanni was dark haired while she was a striking white-blond and although her skin was not as pale as most English women, it was nowhere as dark as the classic Mediterranean complexion. Her height was also against her. Giovanni had been five-foot-five at the most. This girl was as tall as a runway model.

  It was her eyes, however, that were the most unnerving. Like Giovanni’s, they were a deep, crystalline blue, and she held his gaze with an unwavering determination that he’d seen his mentor do many times before.

  But that was not a good enough reason to believe her.

  “Okay, Miss Crawford. I think we can resolve this little confusion with a few simple questions.”

  “I am not confused, Signore,” she said in a tight voice, “And to be honest, I’m getting a bit tired of all your questions. Haven’t I answered enough? I’ve done everything you’ve asked and you still haven’t told me where Giovanni is. I only want to see him, not rob him.”

  Interesting choice of words.

  “Fine,” he snapped. It was time to end this facade. He had bigger problems to contend with. “I don’t enjoy playing games either. So let’s get down to business. Do you have any proof that you are who you say you are?”

  “Yes!” She fumbled in her handbag.

  Rafael began to feel the first stirrings of unease. Anna retrieved the letter and with a defiant glare threw it down on his desk in front of him.

  “What is this?” he demanded, glancing down at the envelope without picking it up. “It’s addressed to Giovanni Albertosi at this address.”

  “Yes. It’s a letter my mother wrote to Giovanni fifteen years ago, before she died.”

  “Fifteen years ago.” Rafael wracked his brain. He had been at school in Naples at that point, ward of the great Giovanni Albertosi. It was Giovanni himself who would have been here.

  He picked it up and began to read: