Chapter One #2
‘You and I have something in common, Amelia,’ he said, so close his words whispered across her cheek. She blinked up at him, jolted once more by the perfection of his features. ‘We both know what it is like to be abandoned by a parent.’
She frowned.
‘My father, when I was nineteen,’ he said. ‘But first, he scammed every single person we know, stealing hundreds of millions of euros, stashing it offshore, and then, when his criminality was exposed, disappearing without a trace.’
She could only stare up at him.
‘My grandfather and I were left to clean up the mess. We were interviewed over and over by the police, who could not believe my father had acted alone. All across Europe, our name—once one of the oldest and most respected—became mud. We were treated with disdain by all we’d once considered friends.
In one selfish act, my father destroyed a legacy that had been generations in the making. ’
Amelia’s curiosity was naturally stirred, and, in truth, she was glad to have something to focus on besides her own family.
‘I do not care for legacy, and I would gladly have nothing to do with those two-faced bastards.’
She lifted her brows.
‘But my grandfather does care. My grandfather wants, more than anything, to see our family name restored. To be respected once again.’
‘You are Massimiliano Moretti,’ she pointed out, managing his name with more aplomb the second time around. ‘You’re worth a gazillion dollars. Surely that buys you respect.’
‘Not with these people—they are proud, they are mad, and they are ice cold. Doors remain shut. My grandfather feels that pain daily.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, genuinely. ‘But I don’t see how I can help.’
‘Don’t you?’ he murmured, eyes tracing her features, as though he was looking for something. ‘You are a Rossi. Even from outside, I could tell, just from how you hold yourself. You have your father’s complexion, but everything else about you is your mother’s.’
She closed her eyes on a wave of fresh hurt. She knew that was true, but, oh, how often she wished it not to be the case. If there had been a way to carefully, surgically remove every single fibre of her mother’s DNA from her body, then she would have.
‘Did you come here just to insult me?’ she asked, voice trembling.
‘You know that’s not what I intended.’
‘Yeah, well, to me…’
‘Your mother hurt you,’ he said, with a nod. ‘But your grandparents did nothing wrong.’
She bit into her lower lip. ‘They have never once tried to contact me.’
‘You have not contacted them, either.’
‘I was a child—’
‘You are now a woman.’
‘Yeah, well, I’ve been a little busy lately,’ she said, and felt the weight of grief pour over her anew. Nursing her father had been a way of life for so long that she still occasionally forgot he was gone. The reality of how alone she was slammed into her.
‘Your grandparents are very proud people, and your family is as ancient as Italy. However, like you, they are in debt.’
She blinked, remembering threads of conversation, of stories she’d been told as a girl. ‘My mother’s family is wealthy.’
‘No. They were, a long time ago. They own property, but much of it is now under mortgage. Their estate is set to be carved up and sold off. It is a situation I have been aware of for some time, though it’s only in the last week I have come to fully understand their desperation.’
She couldn’t pretend that didn’t affect her. She stared up at him, with a heart that had already been so badly hurt by her mother’s abandonment, her father’s death, and said, beseechingly, ‘That’s very sad, but I’m in no position to help them. Obviously.’
‘I am.’
Her stomach twisted. ‘Yes.’ She nodded slowly. ‘I suppose you are. That’s very kind, Mr Moretti.’
‘Massimiliano,’ he corrected. ‘And this is not philanthropy. My help would come at a cost.’
Her brows knitted together. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘After my father left, I swore I would repay everything he took. It almost bankrupted us, and even then, I had to earn more. I took our last million euros and invested it, turning that into two, and then ten, and then a hundred. I do not give money away unless it is an investment; unless there is something in it for me.’
‘My grandfather is your grandfather’s friend,’ she reminded him.
‘Friendship is not something I particularly care about—I learned a long time ago it cannot be trusted.’
She flinched at the ruthless certainty in his voice.
‘But my grandfather, on the other hand, I would do anything for.’
‘Your grandfather,’ she repeated.
‘I found out, one week ago, that he has cancer.’
Amelia let out a sharp gasp. ‘What kind?’
‘Why do you ask?’
She lifted one shoulder. ‘I’ve become somewhat of an expert over the last few years,’ she said, not telling him the truth.
That even before her father’s diagnosis, Amelia’s deepest held wish was to become a doctor.
Ever since she was a little girl, and her best friend had died of leukaemia, she’d been determined to make the world better by helping sick people heal.
‘Bladder. We are awaiting tests to see how widespread it is, and what his prognosis will be. His oncologist is not optimistic.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, genuine sympathy softening the words as tears stung behind her eyes.
She knew all about oncologists and prognoses.
She had fought, so hard, to get her father the experimental treatment that might have saved his life, but it was prohibitively expensive without an oncologist pushing for him to be in a study, and none had agreed that his prognosis made him a worthy candidate.
‘I know he might die. I understand that. But before he does, I would like to give him the one thing he desperately wants. Something my money has never been able to secure for him.’
‘Which is?’
‘For our family name to be honourable once more. For him to know that his legacy was not destroyed for ever.’
‘But, how…?’
‘By marrying you, Amelia Rossi. With you as my wife, no one in Italy would think of shunning him. I came here to bring you home—as my bride.’