The Vendetta (8 page)

The worst had come when
Mamma
had gotten sick. A fast growing brain tumor had taken her life in a heartbreakingly short amount of time. Lisa had found it impossible to forgive her grandmother’s continued silence when Elisabetta had been so ill. But Mamma had begged Lisa to soften her heart and forgive the old woman. Something Lisa had failed to do even now, almost four years after her mother’s death.

A sob welled inside her. Tears threatened to spill at the thought of her mother, but Lisa brushed them back in order to consider her options.

Could she now face everything that reconciliation with the principessa entailed? The art collection, the estate, the title. Lisa had been happy in her anonymity. Hadn’t she?

What would Mamma have said to all
this
?

Lisa sighed. She could almost hear her mother’s voice.

“Not go? But
amore mio
, of course you should go. In fact, I think you must go. If only to figure out what La Principessa is up to.”

Mamma would be right, as usual. If Gran’s request concerned only
la collezione
or the palazzo, Lisa would have no obligation to the principessa. But Gran had asked her to come, to forgive, and also to help in planning a gallery showing. In short, her grandmother
was
up to something.

Lisa had go back to Rome in order to find out what. And why now.

She looked over at the box containing the statue of
The Lovers
, and the thought she had been avoiding popped into her head.

Nick was in Rome.

My apartment is in the Aventine; you are always welcome there.

Please, Lisa…I will not rest until you come.

On one hand, the caution of a lifetime told her to stay put, that nothing good could come of reconciliation with her domineering grandmother. On the other hand, those three voices—her mother’s, her grandmother’s, and Nick’s—urged her to broaden her outlook and find out exactly what the possibilities were. She got up from the couch and went to fetch her suitcase from her closet.

She’d always loved Rome, and she knew the Eternal City had not changed one bit since she’d left. A bubble of excitement began to build. She was on her way home.

* * *

Lisa’s plane touched down at Rome’s Leonardo Da Vinci airport as she rubbed the grit of the overnight flight from her eyes. She leaned forward in her seat, looking out the window as the plane taxied to the terminal. Rome was green and welcoming. Its famous umbrella pines outlined the ridges of the rolling hills. Compared to the late winter weather she had left behind in Telluride, springtime had washed the Roman countryside with life and promise.

Lisa made her way off the plane to the baggage carrousel. The thought of her upcoming meeting with Gran had her stomach in a knot. She’d talked with Gran’s housekeeper, to let the household know she was coming, but her grandmother had not been available. Katya had called back later to say that the principessa had arranged for transportation from the airport to the palazzo, and that Lisa’s grandmother was overjoyed. The thought made Lisa’s stomach jump.

Lisa had also called Nick from the airport in Telluride right before her departure and had gotten his voice mail. Fully aware of what her arrival in Rome would imply with reference to their relationship, she’d quickly given her flight information, but hadn’t known what else to say. It was exactly ten days since she’d seen him in the hotel at Telluride.

Lisa pointed to her big suitcase as it appeared on the belt. The baggage porter pulled the bag off and loaded it on his cart along with the other, smaller one she’d brought along.

“Someone is supposed to meet me outside,” she said to the porter.

He nodded and smiled, but there was no spark of understanding.

She repeated the same words in Italian. They came out a bit garbled and rusty, but the porter understood and cracked a huge smile.

“
Si, si. Signorina
Schumacher, yes?”

She smiled and nodded. “Yes.”

“
Signore Carnavale Lei sta aspettando
. Signore Carnavale he wait, yes?”

“Signore Carnavale?” Her heart stuttered a beat. “He’s waiting for me?”

The man managed to grin even bigger. “Si, si. He is waiting. For you. Come.” The porter pressed through customs and pushed the cart with her bags through the double doors of the international arrivals terminal.

And sure enough, there he was. The look of him punched her low and hard. He had a long coat on over his shirt and trousers, and he stood with it pushed back, one hand in his pants pocket, the other holding the phone to his ear. When he turned those quicksilver eyes on her and smiled, her heart started to pound in her chest.

He disconnected his call and, with that athletic grace, moved toward her.

“Lisa.” Taking both of her hands, he kissed her cheeks. The greeting was traditional, European, but the slide of his smooth skin and the scent of his spicy cologne made her head swim.

Nick retained his hold on one of her hands while he gave the baggage handler instructions. With a smile, the porter took her luggage out to the sleek black Mercedes she could see through the door to the terminal. She took a steadying breath while heat and electricity traveled from their linked hands to her flushed face.

When he turned his attention back to her he said, “I knew you would come. Glad to see me?”

“No,” she lied.

He laughed. That luscious mouth curved into a grin that she found difficult to resist. Then he raised her hand and kissed it.

“Well, then,” he said, “I’ll have to do something about that right away.”

Her eyes flew wide as he drew her close and swept her into a deep, and very real, kiss.

* * *

In spite of her reluctance, or maybe because of it, Nick molded his mouth to Lisa’s soft lips. Dangerous joy rocketed through him at her sweet and immediate surrender. He pressed her close to his body and intensified the sweep of his tongue. Just to tease her, he thought, to make her smile.

A horn beeped outside and jolted him back to awareness of his surroundings. Dio, what was he doing?

He lifted his head and looked down at Lisa’s flushed face and wide eyes. He flicked her soft cheek with one finger. “All right?”

She smiled. Ah, there it was. His heart lightened.

“Hmm,” she said. “I am now.”

He laughed.

He kept her hand in his and pulled her outside where his car and driver waited by the curb. The porter had just finished loading her bags in the trunk, and Nick’s driver opened the door for them. Nick slid onto the leather back seat after Lisa and gave quick instructions for the trip into Rome. Not accompanying her to her grandmother’s palazzo would be out of the question.

He’d been surprised when the principessa had called him to tell him Lisa was on her way to Rome. Her Excellency had even congratulated him on the successful completion of his end of their bargain. But it had been Lisa’s soft voice on his phone that had made her pending visit real for him. Her message had filled him with unwanted anticipation. Lisa was the one person who just might tempt him away from his plan.

He looked over at her. Her face was turned away from him as she looked out the window at the passing scenery, but her scent and her presence filled the back of the car. He beat back a stab of arousal.

He didn’t know what had pushed her decision to come back. He doubted it had been his seduction, though. He smiled. Perhaps it had been his gift.

“Did you find a good place to display your new piece of art?” he asked.

She turned her head quickly, her eyes wide and sparkling. “Nick, how could you give me that enormous sculpture? I’ll have to give my couch away to make room in my apartment.”

He laughed. “You liked it, then.”

She gave him a direct look. Then a small smile appeared on her delicate mouth. “I don’t even know what to say. Of course I liked it. You saw that at the gallery in Telluride.”

“Perfect,” he said, and then held back another grin at her small sound of frustration.

He saw her hands clench together in her lap. She speared him with an intense look, her now serious eyes searching his face. “What is all this really about, Nick? You seem to know my grandmother. Or at least where she lives. Where do you fit in here?”

The jump of nerves in his stomach was something new. Lisa was nothing if not direct—he’d already learned that about her. He’d debated how much to tell her about his quest for the Rembrandt, knowing she’d ask for details. He just hadn’t expected her to ask so soon. If he acquainted her with some of the facts now, he knew it could either deepen their connection or sever it for good. But the truth was, he still needed that painting.

The principessa, manipulative old dame that she was, had held something back. Nick didn’t know what her secret was, but she hadn’t yet delivered the painting he’d been promised. He’d been frustrated by the delay, but intrigued enough by Lisa’s arrival in Rome to let the game play out. In order to achieve the revenge he’d envisioned, he would have to play all his cards with delicate skill. One of those cards was telling Lisa at least part of his story.

Decision made, he put his arm along the back of the seat, turning toward Lisa as he spoke. “About three months ago, an Old Master painting, a self-portrait by Rembrandt, sold at auction for $25 million. Are you familiar with it?”

“Yes, I read about that one,” she said, her expression considering. “An earlier work, considered a rare find. Was that the one an unnamed collector bought through an intermediary?”

“
Esatto
,” he said. “The very one. The unnamed collector was your grandmother.”

Lisa’s mouth dropped open, but she quickly recovered herself. “That’s surprising, although not really out of the ballpark. Gran has many priceless pieces in her collection. I’m sure she can well afford a Rembrandt.”

“True.” Nick captured Lisa’s hand and measured her long, tapered fingers against his wider, larger ones. “But the question is, can she afford for that Rembrandt to be a forgery?”

Lisa’s eyes locked onto his face. “The auction house sold my grandmother a forged Rembrandt?”

He shrugged. “Maybe yes, maybe no.” He lifted her hand to his mouth, kissed the tip of Lisa’s index finger, and then sucked it lightly onto his tongue. She gasped, and her eyelids flickered and fell before she pulled her hand away.

“Nick,” she said, her tone a warning.

He smiled, immensely satisfied with her response.

Her brows snapped together in a frown. “How do you know all this?” she asked.

He brushed at an invisible speck of dust on his sleeve. “Because,” he said, “a fake Rembrandt exactly meeting the description of the painting your grandmother bought was stolen from my family twenty years ago. I have been seeking the original for many years.”

After a moment she asked, “But who has the original, then? And how do you know which one my grandmother bought?”

Surprised approval flooded him. She was quick and, as always, courageous.

“I don’t know,
carissima
,
that’s the problem.” He took her hand and looked into those clear green eyes. “I had hoped that together we could discover the truth.”

Chapter Six

Nick’s sedan pulled up to the principessa’s mansion in the Farnese district of Rome. The granite facade of Palazzo Severino—a strictly neo-classical arrangement of pediments, brickwork, and white marble—imposed its dignity on the street below. After the hustle of the trip from the airport, the street seemed unnaturally quiet. Lisa tried to shake off a feeling of déjà vu as she stepped out of the car and waited for the driver to unload her luggage.

She would save for later contemplation the information Nick had revealed in the car. Right now, her reunion with Gran occupied every spare bit of emotion.

“Now are you nervous?” asked Nick.

“No. Why do you keep asking me that?” Lisa responded.

Nick’s hand came up to cover her fists. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding them tightly clenched at her waist. His fingers were warm and gentle, in contrast to his intense expression. Heat and attraction curled in her belly.

The gate to the palazzo opened with a metallic buzz. Lisa pulled herself away from Nick and stepped into the small courtyard. The massive, carved wood doors swung open, and Gran’s housekeeper stood at the top of a short flight of marble steps.

“Miss Lisa. So good to see you.” Katya’s soft, Romanian-accented voice and warm expression welcomed Lisa.

“Katya.” Lisa hurried up for a hug. “It’s good to see you too. I missed you.”

Katya hugged her back, but Lisa felt tension in the older woman. She seemed on the verge of relaying something important. But the little housekeeper turned away, her greeting to Nick stiff and formal. She took their coats and turned to the grand staircase leading to the main part of the house.

“The principessa is in her study. Come.”

The announcement squeezed Lisa’s heart. Her vow never to return to Palazzo Severino played over and over in her head, seeming to echo around the cavernous rooms.

“Steady,” said Nick, his hand warm and low on her back. She frowned, not sure she liked him reading her emotions so easily.

They walked through the grand salon and then the gallery. To Lisa’s eye everything remained exactly as it had been six years ago—gilded moldings, marble statuary, paintings large and small, fine furniture, crystal chandeliers, and floor to ceiling mirrors to reflect the splendor over and over.

Lisa stopped for a moment at the large photo of Gran displayed over the massive fireplace.

“You resemble her.” Nick’s voice rumbled softly in her ear.

She glanced back at him. “So people have said. Personally, I never really saw the similarity.”

“Perhaps you wouldn’t because the likeness is more in your shared expressions and gestures.”

Lisa nodded but she didn’t agree. The thought occurred that if Nick was that familiar with her grandmother’s gestures, then he was well acquainted with the principessa. But Lisa had never believed that she even remotely resembled her beautiful, flamboyant grandmother, or her petite and pretty mother, for that matter. No, her individual features perhaps could be attributed here and there: her changeable eyes from Gran, her delicate mouth from her mother, her slim, strong body from her father. But taken as a whole, she’d never been one to stop traffic, and she liked it that way. She’d learned to blend and adapt, even while she’d felt unsophisticated compared to her mother and grandmother.