The Italian's Inexperienced Mistress

by Lynne Graham

  ‘For heaven’s sake, Gwenna. They put a gun to my head—I thought I was going to die!’ Donald Hamilton protested furiously. ‘They were violent criminals.’

  ‘I’m sure,’ Gwenna sighed, wondering where the tall tale would go next.

  ‘I was managing Fiorella’s money and she was a wealthy woman. Her father’s thugs demanded that I hand over all of that money. They escorted me to the bank and waited while I made arrangements to withdraw her cash. But she’d already spent a good deal of it and the men threatened to come back and visit me a third time if I didn’t cover the amount that had been spent. I had to pay up. They bled me dry. Needless to say I cut loose fast from Fiorella, but I was financially ruined.’

  ‘I’m sorry... I don’t believe any of this and I don’t know how you can expect me to.’

  ‘Your mother’s solicitor worked in the same practice as I did. He was elderly, overdue for retirement. It was easy to remove papers from his safe,’ the older man admitted. ‘I approached a loan company in London and pretended I owned the Massey estate. Using it as security, I borrowed a large sum of money. I had to have some way of meeting my obligations at home. Remember you and your mother were my dependants then.’

  Gwenna frowned, finally grasping the connection, even if she didn’t credit the preceding story. ‘How could you do that to my mother? Was she just one more person to be used and fleeced? Is there anyone you won’t use?’

  ‘When your mother died, there was still an outstanding loan against the estate and I had to cover up the evidence of that. What choice did I have? I may have forged that will but I did it with the best of intentions. I had such wonderful plans.’

  A ragged laugh fell from her lips. ‘Mum wanted me to have the estate, not you.’

  ‘I gave you a home. I adopted you,’ her father reminded her without hesitation. ‘I hoped to develop the estate and you would have benefited from that too, if it had come off.’

  ‘I don’t think so. I was just a means to an end and a cheap way to keep the nursery going.’ Gwenna lifted the file and got up on stiff legs. ‘I’m taking the Jeep. It’s mine.’

  ‘You can’t leave like this. What’s going to happen now?’ Vaulting to his feet, the older man skimmed an apprehensive glance out the window.

  She followed his gaze. Angelo was leaning up against the long gleaming bonnet of his ridiculously sumptuous car. She realised that she didn’t care what action Angelo took over her parent’s most recent act of fraud. Presumably Angelo would relish the opportunity to prosecute him. That was fine by her but it also meant that her private agreement with Angelo would be null and void. Her father would be arrested and charged and he would go to court. And if she could not or would not intervene that meant that she was free again, as free as a bird, she registered numbly.

  ‘That’s Angelo Riccardi?’ her father queried, his frown deepening. ‘He looks younger than he does in newsprint. He reminds me of someone. Why don’t you invite him in?’

  ‘I don’t want to,’ she admitted without apology.

  She walked out to the kitchen, grabbed the keys to the old four-wheel drive and went straight out to the yard at the back. She drove round the house, braking to a halt beside the limo before she could lose her nerve. With clumsy fingers, she frantically lowered the creaking window.

  The epitome of cool, Angelo elevated an enquiring brow. ‘Is that a roadworthy vehicle?’

  ‘Don’t be a snob,’ Gwenna breathed tightly. ‘Well, I suppose this is it. Our arrangement is over.’

  Disturbed by the hollow, unfocused look in her eyes, Angelo cut in. ‘Over?’

  ‘You can press charges against my father. I don’t care any more.’

  His dark, lustrous eyes glittered. ‘You don’t mean that—’

  ‘Yes, I do. He’s a horrible man,’ she said flatly. ‘I’m certainly not going to sacrifice my life to keep him out of prison, so go ahead and prosecute him.’

  ‘I wasn’t referring to your father. It’s the, “over” angle that I was questioning,’ Angelo countered with pronounced care. ‘You and me...’

  Gwenna stared out the windscreen, her classic profile pale and tight. ‘There is no you and me,’ she whispered.’ There was an arrangement and now it’s finished. If the will was forged, the Massey estate is mine and just as soon as the legal work’s done and your staff move on, I’ll be taking over there again.’

  ‘This is not the place to stage this discussion—’

  ‘I don’t have to discuss it. You can keep the clothes and forward the rest of my stuff to the nursery.’ With that final assurance, Gwenna angled her vehicle round the nose of the limo and sped off down the drive.

  Angelo was thunderstruck by the turn of events. She had taken him by surprise. How had that happened? He was always ahead of the game. Why hadn’t it occurred to him that she might walk away once she stopped caring about what happened to her father? When had he lost his grip to that extent?

  Piglet appeared round the corner of the house and ran past him in frenzied pursuit of Gwenna’s old banger of a car. Left behind, the little dog had had a hair-raising encounter with the white Persian who ruled the Hamilton kitchen and he had fled through the cat flap.

  For about ten seconds, Angelo stared after the dog in frowning surprise, and then, seeing the distraught little animal charging right out into the road, he unfroze and sprinted down the drive. Shouting at his team, Franco took off after him. The older man reached the roadside just in time to see his employer make a dive for Piglet, who was running frantically through the traffic. Scooping the little animal up, Angelo tossed him onto the grass verge and almost lost his balance in the process. As he rocked back on his heels, he was clipped by the wing of a car. Flung up over the bonnet, he came crashing down again to the accompaniment of squealing brakes and strident shouts. He lay still on the road, blood seeping from the side of his head. Shaking and whining with fright, Piglet sought security from the only familiar face and darted nervously into the shelter of Angelo’s body to lick at his hand.

  * * *

  Gwenna had almost driven right through the village before she realised that she had not a clue where to go. At first she did not want to think about anything that had happened that morning. Every thought seemed laden with the threat of hurt and she felt curiously unable to cope even with the comparatively minor decision of where to go next.

  The familiar sight of the Massey Manor gates took care of that concern for her. That part of the estate was closed to vehicular traffic and she parked outside, scrambling out to walk up the rough lane that had once been the entrance drive to the house. For the first time she wondered if her inability to think and react normally related to shock. Shock at her father’s treachery and greed?

  Shock at the revelation that she was, after all, the rightful owner of the estate that had been in her family for generations? Of course that fact would have to be ratified by a court of law before it was officially hers but, even so, it was good news, wasn’t it? Nobody would ever be able to take the estate away from her again and in her hands it would be safe. The plant nursery would belong to her once more. It had made a reasonable income. When she was no longer required to pass over all the profits to her father, she would be able to build up the business and look forward to more comfortable takings in the future.

  Yet even those rousing prospects failed to comfort her. What she had learned about her only surviving parent had devastated her. Worse still she was looking back and seeing that, although she had chosen to avoid acknowledging it, she had always been a rank outsider in her father’s family circle. She had hovered on the sidelines, eager to please, desperate to make a place for herself at the Old Rectory and most often ignored, dismissed or scorned.

  She wandered round the overgrown grounds of the estate for quite a while and the familiarity of her surroundings helped her to calm down somew
hat. Perhaps, she finally conceded, she was also a little bit in shock at the concept of a life that no longer contained Angelo. How had he managed to become so entwined with her every thought and expectation? Why could she not imagine a future without him? Her mind served up a compelling image of Angelo. Aggressive and dynamic, he lived and moved at a fast pace. His electric energy, high expectations and impatience were symptomatic of his genius. He was only still and silent when he was asleep. At last she let herself contemplate the prospect of never seeing Angelo again and she realised with greater shock than ever that it hurt much more than anything else had that day. She pressed clammy hands to her tear-wet cheeks and sank down shakily on the worn sun-warmed steps of the old house.

  When had she stopped hating Angelo? And why hadn’t she realised that she had long since stopped hating him? At what point had Toby begun to feel like a much loved friend rather than the source of her unfulfilled dreams? How could she have fallen in love with Angelo? She fought all the time with him! He always knew best about everything! What interests did they share? But she got quite a buzz out of fighting with him, didn’t she? He was incredibly attractive and sexy and he made everything seem wildly exciting. Was it an infatuation? Well, she was soon going to have the chance to find out, wasn’t she? She had just dumped him.

  Could she change her mind about that? Would that be foolish? Pathetic? Or was it her duty to go cold turkey and get over him? Why, oh, why had she left her phone in the car? Suppose Angelo had called her?

  It was at that point that Gwenna finally registered Piglet’s absence and realised that she had left her pet behind at the Old Rectory. What a state she must have been in to walk out of there and just forget about poor Piglet! Rising upright and dusting down her dress, she went back down the lane and found Toby walking round her car and peering in.

  ‘Looking for me?’ she asked, unlocking the driver’s door and immediately reaching for her phone.

  ‘I was surprised to see your car parked here...’

  There were a number of missed calls on her phone and she was about to access them to check out the caller when she noticed the odd note in Toby’s voice. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘I assumed you’d be at the hospital.’ Toby was watching her closely for signs of reaction. ‘You don’t know, do you? Angelo’s been involved in an accident.’

  Her tummy flipped and her head swam. Angelo...accident. She stared at Toby in horror. ‘An accident? Where? When?’

  ‘Your stepmother saw it happen. She was coming home with her shopping—’

  ‘Never mind where she was coming from—just tell me about Angelo! Is he all right?’

  ‘Look, I’ll take you to the hospital now.’ Toby tucked her into the passenger seat of his low-slung sports car.

  ‘Toby!’ she prompted sickly. ‘Just tell me!’

  Toby drove out onto the road and cleared his throat. ‘Eva said he was unconscious. He was hit by a car—’

  ‘You mean his car was hit—’

  ‘Angelo wasn’t in his car. It’s possibly not the moment to mention it, but Piglet’s all in one piece.’

  ‘What’s Piglet got to do with it?’

  So Toby told her that Angelo had saved her dog’s life. Angelo, who had once referred to her pet as a piranha fish on four legs. She felt sick with fear and horribly guilty.

  ‘It was an item on the lunchtime news. I didn’t quite appreciate how important the guy was—’

  ‘Where is he?’ Gwenna interrupted.

  ‘I’m taking you straight there.’

  Her mobile rang and she snatched it up. It was Franco. She was grateful for his calm but disturbed to hear that Angelo had still not regained consciousness. Having warned her that the press were gathering at the front of the hospital, Franco arranged to meet her in a less public location.

  ‘I’ve told everyone that you’re Mr Riccardi’s partner,’ Franco confessed, within a minute of their harried meeting.

  Considering the connotations of that label and deeming them an outright lie in her case, Gwenna bit her lip. ‘I don’t think that...I mean—’

  ‘That’s the only way you’ll be allowed to see him, Miss Hamilton. Lawyers are already on their way here to take charge.’

  Gwenna stepped into the lift. The only way you’ll be allowed to see him. The risk of being barred from seeing Angelo was quite enough to silence her qualms. ‘Lawyers?’

  ‘Decisions have to be made quickly about Mr Riccardi’s treatment. You care about him. I trust you to make the right choices.’ Franco looked grave. ‘If you don’t accept the responsibility, other interests could step in and take over here very quickly.’

  Gwenna was startled by that warning, but she respected a candour that cut right through to what was really important. In the absence of family, Angelo’s lawyers would hold sway and evidently Franco distrusted them. Angelo was hugely wealthy. Might that influence the quality of the choices made on his behalf? Angelo reposed great trust in his chief of security. Gwenna didn’t understand why Franco was so worried but she recognised his sincere concern for Angelo and hastily nodded agreement.

  Franco guided her through a throng of people and into the presence of a harassed doctor, who was eager to issue a report on Angelo’s condition. He thought Angelo’s head injury should be scanned, which meant taking him to another hospital. But the lawyers were fighting over whether or not Angelo should be moved. Time was passing and the doctor was worried about the delay.

  ‘Go ahead and make the arrangements for the scan,’ Gwenna instructed.

  ‘You’ll take responsibility?’

  ‘Yes, may I see him now?’ Gwenna was struggling to contain her fierce impatience.

  Angelo was pale, the side of his face cut and badly bruised and he was very, very still. She closed her hand over his limp brown fingers curled on top of the sheet. Swallowing convulsively, she sat down by the bed. Angelo just about tolerated Piglet, yet he had put himself in jeopardy to save the little dog from being run over. Angelo had done a crazy but wonderful thing. And he could only have done it for her benefit. Wiping her eyes, she mustered a steadying breath and began to pray. Very few minutes passed before the nursing staff came in to prepare Angelo to be airlifted to a city hospital.

  * * *

  Angelo surfaced from what felt like the worst hangover of all time with a splitting headache. He was in the act of mastering a surge of nausea when he registered that a man was speaking in a sharp hectoring tone and that a hand was tightening on one of his as if he were a lifeline.

  ‘I’m afraid you’re going to hear my opinion whether you want it or not, Miss Hamilton,’ the suave lawyer intoned with contempt. ‘The scan was a waste of time. You let a junior doctor dictate a decision that may have seriously damaged Mr Riccardi’s prospects of recovery.’

  ‘That hospital didn’t have the facilities to carry out a proper investigation. At that point, I felt that there was no time to waste.’ Gwenna was wondering how many hours it was since she had last slept, for her head felt too heavy to be supported by her neck. Dawn light was filtering through the curtains.

  ‘You acted without authority and with my express disagreement. Who are you? His partner?’ the lawyer derided. ‘Don’t make me laugh! You’re the daughter of a criminal, and only one more in a long line of little—’

  The thick black fringe of Angelo’s lashes lifted to reveal the blazing impact of his gaze. ‘Dio mio! Stop right there if you want to stay employed,’ he growled hoarsely. ‘Treat Miss Hamilton with respect. You do not abuse or bully her. Is that understood?’

  Gwenna was only dimly aware of the other man’s shaken apologies and immediate retreat. She was so overjoyed that Angelo had recovered consciousness that she was incapable of appreciating anything else. Her eyes filled with tears of relief. ‘I was scared you were never going to wake up. I’ll ring the bell f
or the nurse.’

  ‘Not yet.’ Angelo surveyed her, taking in the tousled honey tumble of her hair, her mascara-smudged-and-shadowed eyes and her unflattering pallor. He had never seen her look less beautiful and could not comprehend why, in spite of all the evidence to the contrary, she should look so wonderful to him. ‘How long have I been out of it for?’

  ‘Almost eighteen hours.’

  She was still wearing the same clothes. Most probably, he reflected, she had not even looked in a mirror, for she was not vain. ‘Have you been with me all that time?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  She had not left his side. She had sat up all night. He could not imagine a single woman of his acquaintance caring so little for her appearance or comfort and he was touched. ‘You fought with my lawyers for my benefit. That was very brave,’ he pronounced, retaining a firm grip on her hand. ‘Did you shout at them?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So, it’s only me you shout at.’

  Tears ready to overflow, she shook her head in wordless defeat at the over-emotional state she was in.

  ‘It’s a distinction that makes me feel special, bellezza mia,’ Angelo declared, wondering why he liked the fact that she was crying over him.

  Gwenna darted an uncomfortable glance at him and then lowered her lashes. ‘After what I said, you must be wondering what I’m doing here.’

  ‘You’re here now,’ Angelo cut in with the faintest suggestion of haste. ‘Planning to go anywhere?’

  And it was as if a door swept open in front of her without warning and he was already walking through it and away from her. The future had been static and unthreatening while Angelo was out for the count. Now life was beckoning again and the decision was hers. Yes to Angelo’s question would mean turning her back on her misgivings and letting her heart guide her. If she listened to common sense, she would tell him no. She did not know if she could ever forgive him for the way things had started out. But the alternative was to leave him and she could not face that. Love, she was discovering, was much more complex than she had once fondly believed and it had stolen her freedom of choice.