Uncovering the Correttis

The more powerful the family...the darker the secrets. Meet the family everyone’s talking about in this prequel novella to the Sicily’s Corretti Dynasty series, bought to you by Harlequin Presents.

Investigative journalist Emily Hyslop is furious when her editor—and ex—reassigns her from a career-making exposé to a frivolous wedding in Sicily. But scandalous secrets lie behind the union of the rival Corretti and Battaglia families. Things start looking up when Emily meets the most intimidating, not to mention sexiest, man she’s ever encountered....

Detective Anton Soranno has valuable insight into the Correttis and their scandalous dealings...and plenty of reason to hate them. He’s the perfect source of information—and the more he helps Emily with her story, the more time they have to explore their intense desire. But even as their passionate nights uncover surprising feelings in both of them, Emily and Anton know that she must leave Sicily once the wedding is over....

Look for more books in the Sicily’s Corretti Dynasty series, beginning with A Legacy of Secrets by Carol Marinelli.

Uncovering

the Correttis

Carol Marinelli

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

EXCERPT

CHAPTER ONE

‘A WEDDING?’ Emily Hyslop frowned. ‘You’re not seriously asking me to cover a wedding?’

‘I thought you’d jump at the chance of two nights in Sicily,’ Adam said, knowing full well that she wouldn’t.

Emily was an investigative reporter for a large British newspaper and had just been called into her editor’s office to be asked to cover a wedding. Or rather, her ex-boyfriend was telling her that she would be covering a wedding—at the precise time the case Emily had been working so hard on was about to crack open.

‘I’m working on the Hetherington case.’ Emily tried to keep her voice even. ‘You know that I have to be in Wales this weekend. They’re dredging the lake and I—’

‘I’ve asked Dianne to take it over.’

Emily sat there, her cheeks on fire but trying desperately to appear calm, refusing to let Adam see just how upset she was. Journalism was a fiercely competitive world at the best of times. At the worst of times it was downright cruel. Emily had been working on the Hetherington case on and off for months, utilising her contacts, chasing leads, and now it would seem, again, Dianne was being handed the plum piece and would take the credit for all Emily’s hard work.

You didn’t have to be Einstein to work out why.

Emily had long ago guessed that the arrival of Dianne had been the reason for she and Adam breaking up. Well, Dianne was welcome to Adam but not her job, Emily thought while trying to work out how best to play this.

‘Dianne has amazing contacts and she’s got the edge that’s needed to report a gritty case like this,’ Adam said. ‘I know how hard you’ve worked on it, Emily, but I really feel that you’ve taken it as far as you can.’ Adam didn’t have much of a conscience—you couldn’t do this work otherwise—but even he felt a tinge of discomfort as he attempted to come up with a reason for snatching the case from Emily and handpassing it to Dianne. ‘There are going to be a lot of hard questions if they ever do find a body and asking the tough ones is Dianne’s forte.’ He looked at Emily’s huge blue eyes and blond hair and told himself that Dianne was right. ‘We’ve spoken about this several times. If you want to get on in this field, then you need to toughen up.’

‘And sending me to cover a wedding’s going to achieve that?’ Emily couldn’t keep the sarcasm from her voice; she hadn’t covered a wedding in years, not since she started at the paper.

‘It will go nicely with the travel feature on Sicily that the paper’s running next week.’ Adam wanted the conversation over. ‘Cheer up, Emily. I wouldn’t mind a weekend in Sicily. Instead I’ll be stuck in Wales in the pouring rain....’ He trailed off, perhaps realising what he’d just admitted.

‘So you’re going, too?’

‘It’s a big story.’

Yes, and it had been her story.

Emily gave him a tight smile, stood and headed out to her desk. She could feel all eyes in the office on her. It was clear everyone already knew why she’d been called in to speak with Adam.

At thirty, Emily had been with the paper for eight years and had enjoyed working there till recently. As was the case everywhere these days, there were talks of staff cuts, and Emily was aware that her department was being closely looked at. She could easily envision Adam’s red pen going through her name.

How convenient.

What the hell was I thinking getting involved with someone from work? Her eyes skimmed the brief she had been given but then she stopped thinking about Adam and frowned when she saw a name.

Corretti?

The Correttis were one of Sicily’s most notorious dynasties; she had seen on the news just the other week the funeral of the head of the family, Salvatore Corretti. The security had been incredible and Emily had watched various family members arriving grim faced, their eyes hidden behind dark glasses. She had been intrigued even then.

Emily pulled up the name on her screen and read a little more about the family, her heart starting to race a little as it did when she knew she was onto something, because it would appear that this marriage was so much more than a love match.

Alessandro Corretti was to marry Alessia Battaglia. The Italian media was alight with rumours that Salvatore had set this union in place to ensure his family had Battaglia’s backing for some extensive regeneration of docklands on the Sicilian coast. There was far more to it than that, though. The history between the two families went way back.

She could hear Dianne on the phone booking hotel rooms, or rather, one hotel room, for the weekend in Wales—the romantic champagne-on-arrival and breakfast-in-bed package!

Refusing to let it get to her, Emily returned to her research. They really were the most fascinating family. Salvatore had risen from an orphaned street urchin, charming and thieving his way to survive, to working for the mob dynasty the Battaglias. But it had all turned sour and a price had been put on Salvatore’s head. The more Emily read, the more intrigued she became. There was surely more she could report on than just the wedding. It was time to take back control of her career, Emily decided.

She just needed to sort out how.

‘Can I have a word?’ Emily looked up from her research into the face of her nemesis.

‘Of course.’

‘I need the names of a couple of your contacts,’ Dianne said.

‘Sorry.’ Emily gave a sweet smile. ‘Naturally, I promised them that I’d never reveal.’

‘But how do you know the lake’s going to be dredged?’

‘Dianne.’ Emily gave a helpless shrug, then glanced at the clock, surprised to see that it was already after five. She’d been totally immersed in the Correttis and Battaglias and was now excited at the prospect of covering the wedding—but in her own way. She certainly wasn’t going to be assisting Dianne.

‘I just need a name,’ Dianne pushed. ‘We’re on the same team.’

Emily felt her face flush. But hadn’t Adam told her that she needed to toughen up?

‘Well, this part of the team is off to cover a wedding. Sorry I can’t help—I have to go and pack for Sicily.’

‘I can’t wait to hear what the bride wore.’ Dianne smirked.

‘You can both read about it on Sunday,’ Emily responded. ‘When they bring you breakfast in bed.’

* * *

Emily didn’t bother with packing till the morning. Even though it was late May, it felt strange to be pulling out summer dresses and sandals when it was pouring down outside. She packed some loose dresses and espadrilles and, determined that this piece be about more than what the bride wore, she also packed a dress suitable for a wedding, hoping to mingle amongst the notorious guests. Maybe she could even try to slip inside, Emily thought, although she knew that it would be close to impossible.

She met with Gina, the photographer, at Heathrow, though thanks to the weather, they weren’t going anywhere fast. They sat on the tarmac for ages, the planes backed up due to storms, but finally they were in the air. They moaned all the way to Rome about horrible Adam and Dianne and all the changes that were happening in the department.

‘You need to remind Adam and the powers that be what a good journalist you are,’ Gina said.

‘I’m hoping to.’ Emily sighed. ‘I’m looking to do something a bit different with the wedding piece,’ she admitted, but Gina shook her head.

‘Every journalist in Italy will be hoping to do the same.’ Gina was Italian and knew how it worked. ‘Some of them will have serious contacts.’ Again Gina shook her head. ‘These two families are huge, especially the Correttis. The press watch them all the time and even they can’t get close. I doubt you’ll uncover anything new. I think you might have to wait till Monday to set the world on fire.’

They landed at Rome and said goodbye. Emily was heading straight to Palermo and Gina was going to sneak in a night with family and see Emily there tomorrow. ‘Have fun,’ Gina said.

There wasn’t time to have fun, Emily thought. Her career was nosediving; she had to come up with something.

Palermo was gorgeous, though. The sky was blue, the air warm, and as she stepped into summer, she breathed it in, determined despite Gina’s warning to turn things around this weekend. As the taxi drove her from the airport, she noticed how many developments were unfinished, left deserted midconstruction. She tried to ask the taxi driver about them but he spoke little English, though Emily felt the hair on her arms rise when the name Corretti was mentioned.

Emily checked in and was taking the elevator up to her room when one of her informants called.

‘Hi there...’ Emily smiled into the phone but her voice broke off as the most stunning man followed her into the elevator. His hair was jet-black and he was unshaven with a full, scowling mouth, and her first, illogical thought was, it would be heaven to be the recipient of his smile. He was wearing black jeans, a black top and a black jacket, his eyes covered with dark glasses. The lift doors closed and it was just the two of them. As his expensive scent reached her, Emily was incredibly aware of his presence, so much so that she forgot she had taken a phone call until her informant’s voice came down the line.

‘Emily?’

‘Sorry!’ She returned her attention to the call, or tried to, but her eyes watched as a beautifully manicured finger pressed the button for one of the top floors.

‘Wrong lake.’ The connection was loud and Emily held her phone from her ear.

‘Oh!’

‘I don’t even know which one the police are going to be dredging—they’re keeping it really quiet. But I don’t want you freezing by a lake for nothing in this weather.’

‘I’m not covering the story now. Adam and Dianne are on their way there. I’m in sunny Sicily.’

‘Doing what?’

‘Covering a wedding.’ Emily rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t ask. It’s a very sore point.’

‘I never imagined you as a wedding reporter.’

‘Neither did I. Look, thanks for letting me know about the lake. I’ll pass it on.’

‘No I bloody well won’t.’

Emily didn’t mean to say the words she had been thinking, but as she pocketed her phone, she realised that she had spoken out loud. Her eyes jerked up to the gorgeous stranger, her face burning red as the elevator doors opened and she realised she was at her floor. He wasn’t even looking at her; he was lounging against the elevator wall reading from his phone. He probably couldn’t speak English anyway, Emily consoled herself as she stepped out.

‘Fattispecie.’

Just as she got out of the elevator, his deep voice halted her and she turned around and looked at him, wishing he weren’t wearing dark glasses just so she could know the colour of his eyes when she dreamt about him tonight. ‘Actus reus,’ he translated, and even though he still didn’t, Emily found herself smiling as the elevator doors closed, as that delicious stranger gave her the legal term for a lie by omission.

Ah, fattispecie, Emily thought, letting herself into her room and thinking of Adam and Dianne standing in the pouring rain at the wrong lake.

Such a lovely word.

CHAPTER TWO

EMILY WASN’T going to find out anything in her hotel room, so she freshened up with a shower, then put on a summer dress and some make-up before she went for a wander.

It was early evening and the streets were teeming. Everyone was chattering excitedly about the upcoming nuptials. There were scores of reporters and the police were combing the church with detectors and dogs. Emily dictated a few lines and then put away her recorder. Everything was cordoned off. Even the barriers for the press were set farther back than usual. There really wasn’t a hope of getting closer. Even the most seasoned Italian reporters would have their work cut out, so Emily knew she didn’t stand much of a chance. She walked across to the reception venue but that and the gardens too were cordoned off.

Damn.

It was then she saw him again, and despite the dark glasses, she could see that he was unashamedly watching her. ‘Signor Fattispecie!’ Emily smiled.

‘The name is Anton.’ He made his way over and introduced himself. Emily waited for him to give his surname, to reveal a bit more as to who he was.

He did neither.

‘It is a pleasure to meet you, Emily.’ He watched her frown as she tried to fathom how he knew her name. ‘I heard your contact speak. So, you’re here to cover the wedding?’

Emily nodded. ‘You?’

‘To observe,’ he said.

‘Oh!’

He could be a Corretti. He was dark and delicious, and like them—well, according to her research, anyway—he gave nothing away. His voice was low and richly accented, and there was that urge again to rip off his glasses, that wish for this man to reveal just a little more of himself to her.

‘So,’ Anton asked, ‘covering a wedding is a sore point?’

Yes, he’d understood every word.

‘Can I ask why?’

‘My career’s just been shot.’ Emily was honest. His presence was just so consuming that there wasn’t the room in her mind to fathom lying or watering down the truth. ‘Well, slowly strangled.’ She looked at him and saw just a hint of a small smile lift the edge of a very beautiful mouth, and so she proceeded on. ‘Prolonged suffocation.’

‘What do you usually work on?’

‘I’m an investigative journalist.’ Emily sighed. ‘Or I thought I was till I was sent here. Still, this wedding sounds pretty interesting.’ He did not respond to her probe. ‘I heard there was a lot of rivalry between the families.’

‘Heard?’ Anton checked.

‘Read,’ Emily admitted.

‘Read what exactly?’

She breathed out through her nostrils, feeling as if she was being tested. She was unsure just whom she was speaking to, but she so badly needed to know more. ‘That Antonioni Battaglia is the minister of trade and industry.’ She watched as from behind his glasses one perfect eyebrow raised. ‘That his backing is needed for the regeneration of the docklands.’ She was aware he could be a member of either family, but it was all or nothing and Emily chose to push on. ‘And I read that the Correttis want the docklands project.’

‘Do you really want to cover more than just the wedding?’ He made her a little nervous, or was it just that he made her breathless?

‘Yes.’ Emily nodded. ‘Are you related to them?’

He gave a small, mirthless laugh and shook his head in clear distaste.

‘Do you know them, then?’

‘Very well, though sometimes they would prefer that I did not.’

Emily blinked.

‘Tomorrow Antonioni will see his daughter, Alessia, married into the Corretti dynasty. Unlike his father and grandfather, Antonioni could never amass his own fortune. He’s an embittered politician and only too happy to buy into power.’

‘So, how do you know all this?’

‘Because I make it my business to know.’

Emily was used to getting information from others, but she knew full well that Anton was revealing this by choice, not because of her excellent interviewing skills. She just didn’t know why. Yet she wanted more from him, more insight and information and... Emily swallowed. She didn’t want their conversation to be over. She wanted more time with this intriguing man.

‘Scusi,’ he said, and she stood waiting as he took a phone call, feeling a bit awkward when he glanced over to her and then proceeded to make another.

‘I’ll go....’

‘Wait,’ he said, reaching out and taking her wrist, and Emily stood there, terribly aware of the contact but choosing to wait as instructed. Clearly he knew the families. It might be her only way in.

‘Do you want to know more about them?’ Anton asked.

‘Of course.’ Emily nodded. ‘Would you be happy to answer a few of my questions?’ She found she was blinking, only rather rapidly. Oh God, she was flirting, which she hadn’t done in forever.

‘Over dinner?’

‘That would be lovely.’ She gave a small swallow. There was this strange charge to the air and she decided to make it very clear that this would be a working dinner. ‘If you’re willing to be interviewed, then the paper can pay.’

‘Good.’ There was a twist of a smile on the edge of his mouth. ‘I just booked us a table for eight p.m.’

Had he been so sure she’d say yes?

‘I’ll meet you in the hotel foyer just before that.’

There was a flutter in her stomach that wasn’t just from nervousness as he continued speaking. ‘Wear something nice.’

‘Nice?’

‘Formal.’

Emily frowned. She didn’t want formal; she wanted a small cafe where they could properly talk. She didn’t have time to shop for something nice for some fancy restaurant. But already he was gone.

Emily heard the bells of the church and realised she had less than an hour to get ready. She headed back to the hotel and dashed up to her room. The only formal item of clothing she had was the dress she had brought in the vague hope of squeezing into the wedding, but surely it was far too much for dinner?

She really didn’t have much choice.

Emily was used to getting ready at a moment’s notice, but as she did her hair and make-up, there was a slight tremor to her hand at the prospect of dinner with Anton.

Why hadn’t she pushed for his surname before agreeing to dinner with him? She could have looked him up and found out whom she was dealing with.

Emily pulled on the silver dress and strappy sandals she had brought with her and piled up her hair, pinning it in place. A couple of long blond curls kept falling out, but glancing at the clock, she knew there wasn’t time to fix it. She looked in the mirror for one final check before heading down to the foyer, worried that she was ridiculously overdressed.

She need not have worried.

Anton had changed into a suit, and though still unshaven, with his hair brushed back he looked elegant and expensive. Yet there was an edge to him, a touch of the untamed as he watched her approach, and his eyes told her he approved as to her outfit choice.

Navy eyes, Emily noted, and smiled as she added another detail to tonight’s dream.

‘I didn’t get your surname?’ Emily said as he took her elbow and they walked out into the street and to his waiting car.

‘I did not give it,’ Anton responded. ‘Do you really think I want you quoting me?’

‘No....’ She was more than a little nervous now. His low black sports car was as expensive looking as he was, and as the door closed on her and he climbed in, she knew he could be taking her anywhere. ‘I do like to know who I’m dealing with, though. You could be anyone.’

‘So could you,’ Anton pointed out, starting the engine. ‘Do you usually go out for dinner with men you have only just met?’

‘In my line of work, yes,’ Emily said in a rather hopeless attempt to remind him that she was here only for business, except she knew she was fooling herself.

Despite what Adam might think, Emily was, in her own way, tough. She kept her wits about her at all times. She had to in her line of work. Yet around Anton she was struggling to keep her head. From the second he had stepped into the elevator, he had been heavily on her mind.

Emily sneaked a look at his strong profile. He was easily the sexiest-looking man she had ever been out with, but it wasn’t just his looks that attracted her to him; it was the mystery and the intrigue that she found intoxicating. She could not read him. He handled the car with ease. He was far from tense in the heavy traffic. If anything he seemed a little bored by the roadblocks set up for the coming wedding. The crowds gathering and spilling out onto the streets did not faze him either. Yet there was an edge to him she could not place, a guardedness in his responses that told Emily he did not readily welcome intrusion.

‘You have a question?’ As if he could feel her scrutiny, he turned to her.

‘I have many,’ Emily said as he turned his attention back to the traffic.

‘Go ahead.

‘Who are you?’

‘I thought you wanted to find out about the Correttis.’

‘I do, but—’

‘Keep your questions to them.’

They pulled up outside a very smart restaurant. People were lined up outside and Emily was glad that he had booked ahead—Anton wasn’t exactly liberal with small talk. The car door was opened for them, and it was clear the doorman knew him because there was a brief greeting. As she walked into the restaurant, Emily blinked. The place really was sumptuous, the guests elegant. The smell of herbs and garlic had Emily’s mouth watering.

Instead of being led through to the main restaurant, though, they were taken upstairs. Emily assumed it was because they were a last-minute booking. Only as she rounded the bend on the stairs did she realise that this section was the most exclusive, and she was terribly grateful for the prompt from Anton to dress formally. The jewels on the elegant guests glittered more than the candles on the beautifully dressed tables. One wall was glassed, French windows leading out to a balcony where the guests ate to the stunning backdrop of the Mediterranean at sunset.

Anton had better have some good information. Otherwise she was going to have hell to pay when she put in her expenses.

He spoke with their host as they walked through the restaurant, and when they reached their table, Emily frowned as instead of sitting opposite her, Anton took a seat to her side, their waiter hastily rearranging the place settings.

‘I like to face the view,’ he said. He was sitting so close that their knees briefly brushed and Emily pulled hers away.

‘You are nervous,’ he commented.

‘Do you blame me?’ Emily asked, and then it happened. The man who had given her nothing suddenly gave her the first thing her mind had begged for on meeting him—she was treated to his smile. His full mouth moved slowly and she saw his white, perfectly straight teeth. But more than that, his face lightened as his smile reached right to his eyes and claimed Emily’s ability to breathe in the process.

‘You have nothing to be nervous about,’ Anton said. ‘You are with me.’