And to have his child? To bring a child into such a hate-filled nest of poison?
Yet it was the only way to save her family. Those forged documents had the potential to destroy them all and she was the only one who could stop it happening.
No wonder her head hurt so much.
Forcing herself to gather her wits, Elena hunted around the cabin for something clean to wear as Esmerelda had whisked her filthy clothes away. All she found was a white silk robe hanging in the wardrobe. It felt beautiful on her skin but one look in the mirror made her whip it off. The material was practically transparent.
Esmerelda had brought some clothes for her to change into but judging by the size and quality of them, they belonged to Gabriele.
It was with great reluctance that she slipped a black T-shirt on. It fell to her knees and looked like a sack. Much better.
What wasn’t better was the faint trace of cologne permeating through the fabric cleaner. It had to be Gabriele’s. It smelt too much like him to belong to anyone else. She hated that it was a scent she found appealing.
As Esmerelda had whisked her underwear away with the rest of her clothes, Elena reluctantly donned the accompanying shorts. They swamped her.
Holding the shorts up to stop them falling down and trying to forget she had Gabriele’s scent clinging to her, she set out to find him.
Retracing the route through the cavernous interior, she found her way to the top deck. She stood at the rail that overlooked the pool deck below, was about to turn back when a figure in the pool made her do a double-take.
Instinct told her it was Gabriele powering his way through the water.
For some incredibly strange reason her heart accelerated, her hold on the rail tightening.
Up and down he swam, his back muscles rippling with the movement. No wonder he had such a fabulous physique...
He reached the end but instead of doing an immediate about-turn and setting off again as he had done thus far, he twisted round and looked up.
Mortified to have been caught...admiring him... Elena went to step back but stopped herself in time. Hiding would only confirm that she’d been spying.
Instead, she held her head high and walked down the wide stairs to the pool deck. By the time she’d reached the bottom Gabriele had hauled himself out of the pool and was rubbing a towel over his face.
Dear Lord...
With the water dripping off his honed bronzed skin and nothing but a pair of tight black swim shorts on with a definite bulge in them...
Feeling her cheeks turn scarlet, Elena hurried to take a seat at a table where a jug of water and a couple of glasses had been laid.
From the corner of her eye she saw him methodically dry himself before slinging the towel over his shoulder and joining her.
He flashed a quick smile and poured them both a drink.
‘Do I assume your reappearance means you have come to a decision?’ he asked, placing her glass before her.
‘Not quite.’ She took a drink of the cold water, wiped her mouth with her thumb and took a deep breath. ‘There are some things we need to discuss first.’
‘Such as?’
‘If I agree to marry you, I want a signed agreement that all the so-called evidence you have against my father will be destroyed.’
‘The contract being drafted has that specified.’
‘You’re drafting one already?’
‘Yes. It will set out in black and white exactly what this marriage will be so there is no room for doubt on either side.’
‘Isn’t that rather presumptuous? I haven’t said yes.’
‘You will,’ he said with an arrogant shrug.
She sucked in air through her teeth and willed herself not to bite.
‘Your father’s liberty depends on it,’ he added.
Growing up in an all-male household, Elena was well used to the male ego. Any man stupid enough to think she was inferior because of her gender or size soon learnt the error of his ways. It had delighted her father that his little princess was brainier than her brothers—admittedly not hard—and had never lost a physical fight against any of them either.
In the Ricci household you learnt to take care of yourself from a very young age.
Gabriele’s arrogance—different from her brothers’ and far more acute—was just another thing to add to the list of things to despise about him.
‘Will I be expected to give up my job?’
‘No, but I will expect you to make concessions on your workload as I will have to make concessions on mine. For our marriage to be believable we will have to marry our diaries as well as ourselves.’
She eyed him with a suspicious glare. ‘And that will be in the contract?’
‘Yes. Anything else?’
‘Your demand for me to have your child is abhorrent and not something I can agree to.’
‘Let me be clear about a couple of things.’ Gabriele leaned forward, taking in the whiteness of her face. ‘My only reason for marrying you is to hurt your father. You know as well as I do that our marriage will crush him. You carrying a Mantegna child will be the ultimate destruction for his pride.’
‘You can’t bring a child into a marriage like this,’ she said hotly. ‘It’s immoral.’
‘A Ricci lecturing me on morals?’ He raised a brow and tutted.
‘Why would you even want to have a child with me? You hate me. You could have a baby with anyone.’
‘But I don’t want anyone. I want you.’
Her slim shoulders rose. ‘Why?’
‘When my father and I were arrested four years ago, I was engaged to be married. I pleaded guilty to save my father’s neck but Sophia, my fiancée, chose not to believe that or believe me. She couldn’t handle the media scrutiny and the associated shame it brought on her and ended our relationship. Believe me, I will never trust another woman again. After what your father did I will not trust anyone. I am the last of my line. You having my child will mean the Mantegna name lives on.’
Merely thinking about Sophia made him feel sick. She’d broken their engagement in a clinical fashion that hadn’t left him devastated for the loss of her love but furious that he had ever believed in it. He couldn’t believe he’d been ready to commit his life to such a disloyal, spineless creature. Thankfully there had been no time to brood; his overriding priorities at the time being to stop Mantegna Cars being pulled under and to protect his parents. That he’d only succeeded in the former was something he would live with for the rest of his life.
‘And you could love a child with Ricci blood in it?’ Elena challenged.
He shrugged. ‘The child will be half Mantegna. That will dilute the impact.’
‘What a disgusting thing to say.’
‘I’m merely being honest. If you agree to this marriage then I don’t want there to be any room for misunderstandings. Any child we have would be an innocent in all this and I do not hurt innocents.’
‘You’re hurting me.’
‘You’re not an innocent.’
She flinched and squeezed her eyes shut but he ignored her distress.
If she was anyone other than Ignazio’s daughter and favourite, closest child, he would feel sorry for her.