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.
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