The Billionaire's Legacy Collection
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‘I don’t.’ He shook his head.
‘Then I’ll remind you.’
As if I need to hear this again, Matteo thought! He said nothing, though, and let the old man speak.
‘Don’t ask me how I came by them, for an old man must have his secrets...’ Giovanni started. Matteo remained standing, his face impassive, as his grandfather recited the tale. ‘But when I came to America, I had in my possession trinkets, my Lost Mistresses. They meant more to me than you can ever know but in order to survive I was forced to sell them. My Lost Mistresses, the love of my life, we owe them everything.’ Giovanni stopped speaking for a moment and looked at Matteo’s pale features and unshaven jaw, which was now clenched. ‘You do remember.’
‘No.’ Matteo was getting annoyed now. ‘I’ve told you I don’t.’ He loathed delving into the past and he didn’t want a trip down memory lane today. ‘Do you want to go out?’ he suggested. ‘I could take you for a drive. We could go to your club...’
‘Matteo.’ Giovanni cut him off. He knew that Matteo was trying to change the subject. He loved his grandson very much. Even if they had had their problems, still Matteo came by often and took him out. He just, Giovanni knew, let no one in.
Giovanni had to put things right while he still could. ‘I have to tell you something.’
‘Come on, we’ll go for a drive...’ Matteo pushed. He did not want to be here and he did not want to hear what he knew his grandfather was about to tell him.
‘I’m dying, Matteo.’
Giovanni watched his grandson for his reaction but Matteo never gave his true feelings away.
‘We’re all dying,’ Matteo responded, trying to make light of the devastating news while his heart pounded in his chest, as still his mind fought to deny the truth.
He did not want to have this conversation.
He could not stand to think of his grandfather gone and his family together at another funeral. Images of his parents’ coffins and the children all walking behind them still appeared in magazines at times and were always in his mind.
He did not want his grandfather to die.
‘The leukemia is back,’ Giovanni said.
‘What about that treatment you had?’ Matteo asked. Seventeen years ago they had nearly lost Giovanni. A bone marrow donor had been needed and all the grandchildren had been tested but none of them had returned a match. It had been then that the eldest, Alessandro, had confessed that he knew their father had another son. They had tracked Nate down and he had returned a match. ‘Couldn’t Nate...’
‘A transplant is out of the question, and I’m not sure that treatment is the best way forward at this stage,’ Giovanni said. ‘The doctors say we can hope for remission but, failing that, it is a matter of months. The reality is, I have a year at best.’
‘You know how I loathe reality,’ Matteo said and the old man smiled.
‘I do.’
And Matteo escaped reality often—in casinos, clubs, daredevil escapades, constantly pushing both his body and the hedge fund he had set up to the very brink.
How Giovanni wished he could take back the damaging words he had said and handled this complex man so much better. Yes, while there were many similarities between Matteo and his father, there were other traits too—there was an innate kindness to Matteo that had been absent in Benito, a rare kindness of which Giovanni was immensely proud. And though Matteo was eternally restless, in other ways he was the most patient man Giovanni had ever known. As his health had deteriorated, as his stamina had waned, it was Matteo who would come around and take him out, Matteo who fell easily into a slower step beside him and let Giovanni ramble as he had just done.
‘Matteo, I want you to do something for me. I have something that I need for you to do if I am going to go to my grave content.’
Matteo took a breath and braced himself for the inevitable. Here came the lecture! He was quite sure he was about to be told to settle down and tame his ways and so he frowned when the old man voiced his thoughts.
‘I want you to bring me one of my Lost Mistresses.’
Matteo turned and looked at his grandfather and wondered if he’d finally lost his mind. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’
‘My Lost Mistresses!’ Giovanni went into one of the drawers in his desk and Matteo saw a flare of excitement in the old man’s eyes as he took out a photo. Giovanni’s hand was shaking as he handed it to Matteo.
‘This necklace is one of my Lost Mistresses.’
Matteo looked at the photo. It was a lavish emerald necklace and it was, quite simply, beautiful. ‘White gold?’ he checked and Giovanni shook his head.
‘Platinum.’
The emeralds were amazing—the size of robins’ eggs, they sparkled and beguiled. They were so beautiful that even their image made Matteo reach out to run his finger over the stones. ‘We thought it was just a tale that you told, that they were some old coins or something.’
‘So you do remember!’
Matteo conceded that he did with a half smile. ‘Yes, I remember you telling us your tale.’ He let out a low whistle as he looked at the necklace again. ‘This would be worth...’ Usually he could pick this sort of thing but in this instance he really didn’t know. ‘Millions?’ he loosely gauged.
‘And some.’
‘Who’s the designer?’ he asked. ‘What jewellery house...?’
‘Unknown,’ Giovanni quickly said and Matteo frowned because surely a piece of jewellery as exquisite as this would have some considerable history attached.
‘Is this how you got your start?’ he asked. He could see it a little more clearly. Di Sione had started as a shipping empire but now the name was global. If Giovanni had sold pieces as exquisite as this one, then Matteo could see how it might have transpired. Yet, how could a young man from Sicily come to be in possession of this?
Giovanni was less than forthcoming, though, when Matteo pushed for answers.
‘I just want you to find it for me,’ Giovanni said. ‘I don’t know where to start. I sold it to a man named Roche some sixty years ago. Since then it’s been sold on.’ Matteo could see that his grandfather was getting distressed and knew that this necklace really meant something to him.
‘How did you come to own this?’ he asked again.
‘Don’t ask me how I came by them, for an old man must have his secrets...’ Giovanni said and Matteo gave another half smile.
Now the tale of old made a bit more sense.
‘Matteo, I want that necklace. Whatever it takes. Can you find it and bring it to me?’
He looked over to his grandfather.
How he wished he could open up and tell the old man that he meant something to him, that he understood how hard the years had been on him. But Matteo was incapable of giving anyone more than a loan of that smile or body. His mind was a closed door.
So instead he nodded.
This he could do.
‘You know that I shall.’
Giovanni got out of his chair and walked over to Matteo and wrapped his grandson in an embrace, something Giovanni wished he had done more of all those years ago.
Just for a moment, Matteo let himself be held, but then he pulled back.
‘Come on, then,’ he said, pocketing the picture in his jacket.
‘Where?’
‘Your club,’ Matteo said and rattled his keys but then he changed his mind.
His grandfather was dying.
There was no way that he’d be driving today.
Giovanni called for his driver.
CHAPTER ONE
MATTEO DIDN’T LIKE HIM.
Not that it showed in his expression.
He just sat in Ellison’s study and glanced up at the hunting trophies that lined the walls and then back to the man.
‘Do I look like I need the money?’ Ellison sneered.
Matteo shrugged, refusing to let the other man see that he was surprised by his response to a very generous offer.
He had been unable to find out the designer or jewellery house that the necklace had come from but had found out that Roche had sold it on to Hugo Ellison some twenty or so years ago.
Matteo vaguely knew Ellison from fundraising galas he had attended and he also knew that the man was money and power mad. He had been sure it would only take a generous donation to his political fund to secure the necklace and had set off for the meeting cocksure and confident that he would leave with what he wanted.
Now Matteo wasn’t so sure.
‘It was a gift to my late wife,’ Ellison said.
Matteo knew enough about that marriage to be sure that Ellison wasn’t crying himself to sleep at night over her death but he went along with the game. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said and then stood. ‘It was insensitive of me to ask.’ He held out his hand. ‘Thank you for seeing me though.’
Ellison didn’t offer his hand and when he didn’t conclude the meeting, Matteo knew, even before Ellison spoke, that he held the ace—it was just a matter of time before the necklace was his.
‘Actually,’ Ellison said, ‘it seems a shame to keep it locked up.’ He looked at Matteo. ‘Sit down, son.’
He loathed it when people said that.
It was just a power play, a chance to assert a stronger position, but Matteo knew he had the upper hand and so he went along with it and took a seat again.
I really don’t like you, Matteo thought as Ellison poured them both a drink.
‘How come you’re interested in the necklace?’ Ellison asked.
‘I appreciate beauty,’ he answered and Ellison gave a smug smile.
‘And me.’
Ellison knew who Matteo was, of course. Everyone knew the Di Siones and he knew Matteo’s reputation with women.
Yes, Matteo appreciated beauty.
‘Didn’t you date Princess...?’
‘I don’t date,’ Matteo interrupted and Ellison laughed.
‘Good call. So, how far are you prepared to go?’
‘How much do you want?’ Matteo asked.
‘Not how much, how far?’ Ellison corrected. ‘I believe you like a challenge.’
‘I do.’
‘And from what I’ve read about you, impossible odds don’t daunt you.’
‘They don’t.’
They thrilled Matteo, in fact.
‘See this.’ Ellison beckoned for him to stand and Matteo walked over and they stood staring at a portrait of Ellison and his late wife, Anette, and their two daughters. ‘This was taken at our charity gala some twelve years ago.’
‘Your wife was a very beautiful woman.’ And very rich, Matteo thought. A lot of Ellison’s wealth had come from her family and Matteo privately wondered just how far Ellison’s political career would have gone without Anette’s billions.
‘Anette knew how to play the game,’ Ellison said. ‘We had a terrible fight the day before that photo was taken. She’d found out that I was sleeping with my assistant, but you wouldn’t know it from that photo.’
‘No.’ Matteo looked at Anette’s smiling face as she stood by her man. ‘You wouldn’t.’
Ellison’s revelation didn’t shock Matteo; instead it wearied him.
He peered at Ellison’s daughters. They were both immaculate—one was dressed in oyster grey, the other in beige, and both were wearing the requisite pearls. One had her hair neatly up and the other... A small smile played on Matteo’s lips as he examined the younger daughter more closely. Her dark wavy hair, despite a velvet band, was untamed and her eyes were angry. Her smile was forced and it looked as if the hand her father had on her shoulder was not a proud display of affection, more that it was there to hold her down.
‘That’s Abby.’
Ellison’s sigh as he said her name told Matteo that Abby was the bane of his existence.
‘Look at this one,’ Ellison said and they moved on to the next photo. ‘It must have been...’ Ellison thought back. ‘I think Abby’s about five here, so some twenty-two years ago.’
Abby’s eyes were red, Matteo noted.
Well, they were actually a vivid green but she’d clearly been crying.
‘The only way we could get her to sit in a dress for the photo was to give her a toy car. She was obsessed with cars even then.’
Matteo had no idea where this was leading but he had learned long ago that all knowledge was power and so he let Ellison drone on. He could also see that in the photo Anette was wearing the necklace that Giovanni so badly wanted.
‘Abby was upset because we’d just fired the nanny. Both the girls were terribly fond of her,’ Ellison said. ‘My wife insisted on it though.’
Now they were getting somewhere! Matteo guessed that it wasn’t just the daughters who’d been fond of the nanny.
‘And this,’ Ellison said, moving along, ‘is the last photo I have of my daughter in a dress.’
There Abby stood on a red carpet, with a good-looking blond man by her side.
A man Matteo thought that he recognised.
‘Hunter Coleman ,’ Ellison said and Matteo nodded as he now placed him. Hunter was a top racing driver and had a reputation with women that rivalled even Matteo’s. ‘Abby dated him for a while,’ Ellison explained. ‘Anyway, as I said, she always had a thing for cars. If I couldn’t find her, then she’d be in the garage, pulling apart a Bentley, or taking the engine out of a Jag. I tried to get her out of it—it’s not exactly fitting for a young woman of her standing. She went off to college to study fashion and started dating Hunter and finally I thought that the tomboy in her was gone. The trouble is, unlike her mother, my darling daughter doesn’t know how to stand and offer quiet support. No, Abby, being Abby, had to offer a top racing driver advice on his racing technique.’
Matteo laughed but then it trailed off.
Hunter’s hand was closed tightly around Abby’s, and again, despite the smile, her eyes were...not angry. Matteo looked more closely.
Guarded.
It was the best he could come up with—but no, despite the smile for the camera, that wasn’t a happy young woman.
‘Anyway, she dumped him!’ Ellison sounded shocked. ‘God knows how she thought she could do better, and then she switched from studying fashion to automotive engineering. Now she’s...’
‘The Boucher team!’ Matteo could place her as well now. Well, not Abby specifically, but yes, he knew a little about the emerging racing team.
‘Boucher was my wife’s maiden name.’ Ellison sighed. ‘It’s a very expensive hobby...’
‘I can imagine.’
‘Oh, believe me, you can’t.’ Ellison shook his head. ‘Especially when the owner of the team refuses to play the corporate game and chat up sponsors. As I said to Abby last week, she’s going to have to find the cash. I’m not bailing her out.’
‘Has she asked?’
‘Not yet!’ Ellison’s smug smile returned. ‘But the rest of her mother’s trust fund is tied up till she’s thirty or married. There’s no chance of that girl marrying, which means she’s got no income for another three years!’
‘Why are you telling me this?’ Matteo asked.
‘Because, as you must have heard, I’m on the comeback trail. In July I’m going to be holding my first political fundraiser since my wife’s death. I’ve told Abby that if she comes, and looks the part, and by that I mean she loses the jeans and oil rags, then I’ll give her a cash injection to tide her over.’
‘Has she said that she’s coming?’
‘Not yet,’ Ellison said. ‘But I need her to be there. Image is everything in politics and I don’t want there to be even a whiff of discord. Annabel, my eldest daughter, will do the right thing but I want Abby to be here too. I want my daughter, at my function, wearing her mother’s necklace. I want her looking like a woman for once...’
She looked all woman to Matteo.
‘Can you manage that?’ Ellison asked.
‘Sorry?’ Matteo frowned.
‘You said that you like a challenge. You like women—see if you can sweet-talk her and get Abby to show up here, looking the part. If she does, at the end of the night, the necklace is yours.’
‘How am I supposed to persuade her if you can’t...?’ Matteo started but then, guessing Ellison’s intent, he shook his head. ‘No way.’
Ellison just laughed. ‘I’m not asking you to seduce her. I don’t think you’d get very far. Rumour has it my daughter isn’t particularly interested in men.’
No, Matteo really, really didn’t like this man.
‘She hasn’t dated anyone since Hunter and it hasn’t gone unnoticed,’ Ellison said, frowning at the photo. ‘I want that rumour quashed. I want Abby here, dressed like a woman and with a handsome chap by her side.’ Ellison returned his gaze to Matteo and continued. ‘You could be a potential sponsor, considering investing in her team.’
‘It’s April,’ Matteo pointed out. ‘Your fundraiser isn’t until July. How long am I supposed to be considering investing for?’
‘I’d be giving you the necklace for nothing, perhaps the money you’ve earmarked for it could go towards convincing my daughter that you want to sponsor the team.’
‘And if she doesn’t come to your fundraiser?’
‘You don’t get your necklace.’
Matteo could cheerfully have knocked Ellison’s lights out but instead he watched as Ellison went over to the safe and took out a gleaming polished wooden box and handed it to him.
Oh, my God, Matteo thought as he undid the intricate latch and saw the necklace firsthand.
Not even the photos did it justice.
How the hell had his grandfather come by this? Matteo wondered, and he could see now why he would want it back.
Jewellery had never really impressed Matteo.
This piece couldn’t fail to.
‘I doubt it’s possible to get Abby here,’ Ellison said.
Matteo looked over to Ellison and then back to the necklace and he took Ellison’s words as a dare—which was something he never said no to.
And his grandfather wanted the necklace so badly.
No, he could never be the man his grandfather wanted him to be but this he could do.
‘Can you give me your daughter’s contact details?’ Matteo asked.
His mind was made up—he would get this Lost Mistress back to where it belonged.
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