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“I didn’t take him. You abandoned him here.”
“I never abandoned him!”
“You handed him to my servant and walked away. If I hadn’t stopped you, you would have climbed in your water taxi and disappeared.”
“You are turning this around. You are making me out to be someone I’m not. I only did what I did because I desperately needed help—”
“Obviously. And you’re getting my help, because your desperation is jeopardizing a baby’s welfare.”
“No—”
“Yes. You knew nothing about me, or my staff, and your impulsiveness put Michael in danger.”
Her chest squeezed tight, guilt mixing with fear. “I will not be manipulated.”
“But you can manipulate me?” he retorted so softly that the hair rose on her nape and an adrenaline rush made her knees shake.
She couldn’t speak. Her heart hammered double time. She stared at his chin and mouth to keep from looking into his eyes, afraid of what she’d see there. “Marriage is out of the question. You don’t love me. You don’t even like me. I refuse to sacrifice myself to further your business needs.”
“But you’ll sacrifice me, and my company, for your needs?”
“I haven’t done anything. You are Machiavellian, not me.”
“Because I am determined to protect my nephew, my company and my employees from a greedy American?”
She stepped forward, her hand lifting, and then she stopped abruptly, horrified that she’d come so close to slapping him. “You are twisting everything, poisoning my intentions. Fibs and lies and half-truths...” She drew a rough breath and then another. “Where does it end?”
“You came here to wage war, and you did, so don’t expect sympathy from me, not when you were the aggressor.”
“I was trying to help Michael!”
“If you marry me, then you have.”
“Your business is not more important than my future.”
“And Michael’s?” he drawled quietly. When she didn’t reply, he added, “You want Michael to be a Marcello, and you tell me that I need to do my part. But then, when I make an offer to you, you refuse it, saying you prefer to return to Seattle. Cara, I’m not sure you know what you want.”
But that wasn’t true. She knew what she wanted. His money. His financial support so she could return to her life in Washington. She didn’t want his money by becoming his wife! “You’re not playing fair.”
“You came here for financial support. I am offering you financial support.” He studied her a moment, his lashes down, concealing his eyes, but then his lips curved in a slow heart-stopping smile. “Don’t be foolish and proud, bella. Don’t refuse what you so desperately need.”
* * *
Rachel grabbed her coat and wallet from her room and left the palazzo, nearly running down the grand marble stairs and across the dramatic entry hall to exit through the house’s front door.
She didn’t care who saw her. She didn’t care if the paparazzi were out with cameras fixed on the door, waiting the newest development in their scandalous story.
To hell with them. All of them, but especially Giovanni Marcello.
The afternoon was cold and the wind whipped the lagoon, sending the high tide sloshing over the canal bank onto the pavement. The sidewalk was wet but not nearly as flooded as yesterday. The tide must be coming down.
Rachel walked blindly down the Grand Canal for a block before turning at the corner and heading away from the busy street along a narrower canal. In her head she went through the last confrontation she’d had with Gio, pausing now and then to focus on something he’d said that was particularly infuriating.
Like the passport situation.
She’d forgotten all about the passports when she’d unpacked, but it wasn’t that surprising as they hadn’t been in her possession at the hotel, either. In the United States, the front desk did not retain the passports of international guests, but it seemed that it was the practice in Italy to collect them and keep them safe, and normally it wouldn’t be a big deal, but she was outraged that the hotel would return them to Gio, and not her. And even more outraged that he had the audacity to keep them. Gio knew she wouldn’t leave Italy without Michael. Gio knew he’d trapped her, and he wasn’t at all remorseful. Rather, he was proud. Pleased. Giovanni the Conqueror. Giovanni the Villain.
She kicked hard at a deep puddle, sending water flying in every direction, drenching her legs. She shuddered at the cold, the damp chill doing nothing to improve her mood.
