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Authors: Louise Rose-Innes

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“Well, he does now,” she said, her face set determinedly.

“You must be mistaken.”

“I am not mistaken,
Signore
.”
Anna stepped closer invading his private space.
Rafael became dimly aware of a soft, floral scent that floated around her like an unseen aura.
It teased his nostrils, daring him to take a deeper breath.

“My mother had an affair with Giovanni Albertosi twenty-six years ago and I am the result! He had no idea my mother was pregnant when
it ended
.”

Wrong. Giovanni was well aware that he had a child out of wedlock. Was that her first mistake?

At his disbelieving look she blurted out, “It’s the truth! On my mother’s grave.” Then her face crumpled and she turned her head away.

Very convincing. Still, his instincts were telling him she was lying
and if there was one thing he’d learned over the years, it was to trust
those
instincts
.
They’d seen him through some dangerous times.
Unfortunately he was
still
obliged to find out more about her story.

There was a brief knock on the door and Christina poked her head around. “Excusi,
Signore
. There is a phone call for you.
It is the Mayor.

Rafael held up a hand. “Please, take a seat,” he told
Anna
firmly. “This is important.”

“Oh
,
for goodness sake,”
puffed
Anna
, collapsing on
ce again into the leather chair,
a pained expression on her face.

Rafael
turned to the wall and
rolled his eyes. Of all the days for one of Giovanni’s missing heirs to turn up, today was probably the worst.

He’d just found out that o
ne of Naples’ toughest industrialists was about to level his street kids’ shelter, a charity he’d s
tarted almost five years ago—t
o turn it into a parking lot! He had
only
hours to get an interdict to stop the process. As far as he was concerned, this trumped yet another attempt by
some desperate,
unknown woman staking her claim on the Albertosi inheritance.

He picked up the phone.

“Buongiorno, Gianni...”

The conversation lasted a full five minutes. Rafael pleaded with the Mayor to award an interdict for the demolition scheduled to begin tomorrow morning. The Mayor was not as helpful as Rafael had hoped. He granted an extension
un
til the following week, but then, he said, his hands were tied. Rafael would have to make alternative plans for the shelter.

Rafael slammed down the receiver. Mancini must have the Mayor in his sleazy little pocket. Rafael
had
sensed fear in the
Mayor
’s voice. Not good.

Ignoring Anna’s
astonished
stares
,
Rafael made a mental note to start looking for replacement properties immediately.
He had not a moment to lose or else those kids would be out on the street.

He turned back to Anna. “
I apologise.
Please give me a moment.”

He was seething. He needed to calm down. Taking a deep breath
,
he walked to the window overlooking the quaint cobbled street
with the jewellers and the patisserie
and got his breathing under control. Rafael hated feeling trapped and right now
,
that’s
exactly
what he was.
Trapped and powerless. People could be bastards where money was concerned. This was exactly the reason why he trusted no
one
.

Forcing his mind b
ack to the issue at hand he said impatiently
,
“So, where were we?
Ah, yes.
The
alleged
affair. Where did it take place?

Anna looked like she might argue with his choice of wording, then thought better of it.
“Here
,
in Capri, although I’m not sure what my mother was doing here.”

Interesting.

“And you say this all happened twenty-six years ago?”

“Yes. The year before I was born.”

How convenient.

Rafael studied her cautiously looking for some indication that she was telling the truth. Her story was full of holes. She didn’t even know how her mother had met Giovanni. How could she not know that if she was the real daughter? Surely her mother must have told her. Besides, there was no family resemblance.

Giovanni was dark haired while she was
a striking
white-blond and although her skin was not as pale as most English women, it was nowhere as dark as the classic Mediterranean complexion. Her height was also against her. Giovanni had been five
-
foot
-
five at the most. This girl was as tall as a runway model.

It was her eyes, however, that were the most unnerving. Like Giovanni’s, they were a deep, crystalline blue
,
and she held his gaze with an unwavering determination that he’d seen his mentor do many times before.

But that was not a good enough reason to believe her.

“Okay, Miss Crawford. I think we can resolve this little confusion with a few simple questions.”

“I am not confused,
Signore
,” she said in a tight voice, “
And to be honest, I’m getting a bit tired of all your questions. Haven’t I answered enough? I’ve done everything you’ve asked and you still haven’t told me where Giovanni is.
I only want to see him, not rob him.”

Interesting choice of words.

“Fine,” he snapped.
It was t
ime to end this facade.
He had bigger problems to contend with.
“I don’t enjoy playing games either. So let’s get down to business. Do you have any proof that you are who you say you are?”

“Yes!” She fumbled in her handbag.

Rafael began to feel the first stirrings of unease.
Anna retrieved the letter and with a defiant glare threw it down on his desk in front of him.

“What is this?” he demanded, glancing down at the envelope without picking it up. “It’s addressed to Gio
vanni Albertosi at this address.


Yes.
It’s a letter my mother wrote to Giovanni fifteen years ago, before she died.”

“Fifteen years ago.” Rafael wracked his brain. He had been
at school
in Naples at that point
,
ward of
the great Giovanni Albertosi. It was Giovanni himself who would have been here.

He picked it up and began to read:

Dear Giovanni,

I feel I owe you an apology and as I am very ill, this may be my last chance.

When our paths crossed in Capri we were young and impulsive. The six weeks I spent with you were the most exciting of my life.

I don’t regret our time together
,
but I do regret lying to you about Anna. It was wrong of me to mislead you.

If you want nothing to do with her, I completely understand, however, it is my greatest wish that you do, since she will
be destitute
when I am gone.

Please accept my humblest apologies. I wish you all the happiness in the world.

Sincerely,

Carmen

Looking back at Anna, Rafael said, “I’m afraid I’ve never seen this letter. It was before my time.”

That’s when it dawned on him.
The letter was a fake.

Her mother, if indeed it even was her mother, had probably visited Capri all those years ago and may have even met Giovanni. Now, twenty-six years later they had read that Giovanni Albertosi had died, leaving his vast fortune to an illegitimate daughter he’d never met and they had devised a plan to get their hands on the inheritance.

A very clever ploy. Had Rafael not spent the last six months up to his elbows in illegitimate daughters, he may even be tempted to believe her. Luckily
,
he was way too sceptical for that. He supposed he had a childhood full of mistrust to thank for that one.

“No, unfortunately the letter was never sent.” Anna’s voice quavered impressively.

Because it was a forgery.
Instead he said, “And why was the letter never sent?”

Anna sighed. “I don’t know why.
I can only assume she didn’t get round to posting it before she passed away. I found it a few days ago when I was sorting through her stuff, looking for something else.”

“I see,” drawled Rafael. “Are you sure it wasn’t because the letter never existed? That perhaps you concocted it to try and weasel your way into the Albertosi family?”

Rafael
was being
unduly
harsh, but he couldn’t help it. He was worried to death about the shelter, and wanted to cut this meeting short so he could get on the phone to his connections in Naples.

Anna stared at him.
“Why on
earth would I want to do that?
All I want is to meet my father. I don’t care about his family.”

She was good. Definitely one of the best.
With her big, blue eyes filled with unshed tears he almost believed her himself.

“Perhaps you’re hoping
to inherit
some money?
” suggested Rafael
, cutting to the chase. He wasn’t usually so direct, but he wanted to test her reaction.

“Oh
,
for goodness sake,” exploded Anna. “How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t care
about any fortune, or family—a
ll I want is to see my father.”

“Is this all the proof you have?” Rafael asked,
distracted by her obvious anger and the deepening violet of her eyes.
She really was a strikingly beautiful woman.

“Yes, but...”

“Look, I’m sorry,
” he cut in. “B
ut it’s not enough evidence. All this letter says is that your mother met Giovanni in Capri and lied to him.”

“Yes, lied to him about me.”
He could hear the slight pitch of hysteria in her voice. She was desperate for him to believe her.


I
t doesn’t confirm you are his
biological
child,” Rafael
pointed out reasonably. Any lawyer would say exactly the same thing. The letter was circumstantial evidence. It could be a fake. There was no way of proving it was real. It
didn’t even have a stamp on it to verify the date.

“My mother only loved one man,”
said Anna, frigidly.
“Perhaps that is a concept you can’t possibly understand,
Signore
, but it’s the truth.
She never loved anybody else. She died alone.
Giovanni Albertosi is my father whether you like it or not.”

Rafael looked at his watch. He didn’t have the time to continue this conversation
now
.
There were urgent things he had to do.
The woman could not honestly expect to waltz in to his office
with only an old letter as proof that she was Giovanni Albertosi’s long lost daughter
and expect
him
to believe her.

Calmly he confronted her, “Until you have some concrete proof, by which I mean a birth certificate, DNA evidence or other legal documentation that you are indeed Giovanni Albertosi’s daughter, please do not bother me again.”

Anna stared at him, speechless. “Is that really all you have to say?”

“I’m afraid so,
Signorina
.” He strode to the door and held it open, waiting for her to leave. “Have a good day.”

Anna got unsteadily to her feet. This time there was no mistaking the tears in her eyes. Rafael was seized by a moment of doubt and had to remind himself that she was acting. She couldn’t be Giovanni’s daughter.
It was too much of a coincidence. The timing was too perfect. The inheritance was as yet unclaimed. There was too much money at stake. Rafael knew when it boiled down to this much money, you couldn’t trust anybody. He wanted to believe her. But there were too many reasons not to.

If, and he seriously doubted it, her claims were true, she could come back with some sort of proof. This wasn’t the dark ages. But he was willing to bet good money that she was a fraud.

Anna was deathly pale now. She gave him a look that could have blown straight off the polar ice caps
,
and without another word
,
turned and walked out of his office.

BOOK: The Italian Inheritance
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