Italian Tycoon, Secret Son

CHAPTER FIVE

ON THE Via Manzoni the buildings spoke of money. Here, in the most elegant part of Milan, there was an air of indulgence and reaching out comfortably to the neighbours. All except for one house, which had a bolted and barred appearance, suggesting, at least, someone who preferred not to be disturbed and, at worst, someone who hated the world.

Mandy paused outside to check that she’d come to the right address. It was hard to connect Renzo with the slightly grim aspect of this place, yet the paper in her hand assured her that this was where he lived. She raised her hand to ring the bell, then backed off and went instead to a small café just down the street.

You’ve lost your nerve, she told herself crossly as she sipped her coffee. But then, it’s been a long time. Two years since we found each other, loved each other, lost each other. And so many things have happened since then. I know I’ve changed, and he must have changed too.

It saddened her to think of him being different. She could see him now, giving her the old smile-teasing, yet tender and generous. Surely nothing could have altered that?

She caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror on the wall. It was like seeing a ghost, and in a strange way that was how she’d felt since the day she’d awoken in a hospital in Chamonix to the news that, while she had been rescued, Renzo was missing and probably dead. His death had been confirmed a few days later.

She’d returned to England in a daze of grief and tried to take up the threads of her life, although, after the love that had blazed briefly and been so cruelly snatched away, it felt little better than a half life.

But then, two years later-almost to the day-she’d picked up a newspaper and read:

Avalanche Victim Wrongly Identified.

It now seems that the body identified as Italian climber Lorenzo Danilo Ruffini, following the Alpine avalanche nearly two years ago, was actually another man of similar appearance…

She’d embarked on a determined quest, hiring a private detective who had soon been able to tell her, ‘It took the rescue team a long time to find him, and then nobody thought he would live. His body had actually shut down with the cold but, against all the odds, they managed to bring him back.’

‘How did he come to be wrongly identified?’

‘There were two men missing, and the woman who did the identification was the wife of the other one. She couldn’t face the fact that he was dead, so she simply denied that the body was his. Then she had a complete mental collapse, but recently she recovered enough to admit the truth.

‘He now lives in Milan, where he owns a sports-equipment company. His physical recovery took a long time, and his mental recovery even longer-and both, I understand, are incomplete. In fact, they will probably never be complete.’

And now, here she was, having followed the trail to Milan. In a few moments she would see Renzo again and know if the dream she’d carried in her heart had any reality.

One thought troubled her. She hadn’t sought him out before because she’d thought he was dead, but he seemed to have made no effort to find her. It could have been done easily through Pierre Foule’s records, but he hadn’t tried. Had she too been reported as dead? Or had he simply put her behind him?

No! Her heart denied it fiercely. He had said, ‘I love you. You are everything to me, and you will be everything, for however long we have-and afterwards.’

She heard his words but more, she saw him, not shielded by darkness as he had been then, but as he had lived in her heart ever since-his eyes softened with tenderness, his voice deep with fervour as he proclaimed his love for ever.

The man she remembered had not turned his back. He loved her still, as she loved him. Anything else was impossible.

Today she would see him again and life would spring anew within her. He would look at her and his face would be transformed with a joy that echoed her own, and somehow they would find the way forward again.

At last she rose, determined not to be afraid, walked back to the house and rang the bell.

It was answered by a woman in her thirties. She had a distracted air, but she smiled politely.

‘Does Signor Lorenzo Ruffini live here?’ Mandy asked in Italian.

‘Yes, but he doesn’t want to be disturbed. I’m Lucia, his secretary. Is he expecting you?’

‘No, he’s not expecting me. At least…’a sudden vagueness overtook her ‘…I don’t think he is.’

‘What name shall I tell him?’

‘Mandy Jenkins.’

‘Does he know you?’

‘I don’t…really know.’

‘Look, I don’t think-’

‘I’ll wait. I don’t care how long it takes.’

She was inside the door before Lucia could protest.

‘You’d better come in then, but it could be a long wait. He’s got an important appointment with a business associate-well, more of an enemy, really. Mind you, he seems to think everyone is an enemy these days.’ Lucia added confidingly, ‘He’s going to carve him up. Ah, that must be him.’

The doorbell had rung again. Lucia admitted a squat individual with an expanding belly and a cunning face.

‘Signor Vanwick?’ she asked politely.

‘Mr Vanwick,’ the man declared grumpily in English. ‘I’ve got no time for that Signor stuff.’

‘Yes, Mr Vanwick. Follow me, please.’

She led him down the hall, Mandy following, and opened a door.

‘Mr Vanwick, Signor Ruffini,’ she announced and stood back quickly before she was brushed aside by Vanwick’s advancing bulk.

Before the door closed they could just hear him growl, ‘Now then, Ruffini, what’s all this trouble about my bill?’

‘Nice character,’ Mandy said in English. ‘Not a good advertisement for my country.’

‘No problem,’ Lucia said. ‘In a few minutes he’ll come out of that door, pale and shaking. He tried to cheat Signor Ruffini out of a million euros and now he’s going to wish he hadn’t. Nobody makes that mistake twice. Mr Vanwick is an unpleasant man but I feel sorry for him, getting on Signor Ruffini’s wrong side.’

‘You don’t like Signor Ruffini?’

‘I’m not sure. He’s a good boss in many ways. When my mother was ill he gave me plenty of time off on full pay. But working for him can be tough. He snaps, barks orders and talks to people without looking at them.’

‘And he’s going to “carve him up”? Does he do that often?’

‘When he has to. People think, because he’s been so ill, that he’s a soft touch, but they soon learn their mistake.’

The sound of a voice came from the next room. It had a hard, unforgiving quality that fell unpleasantly on the ear.

‘That’s him,’ Lucia said with relish.

As if to demonstrate, there came a cry, of ‘Lucia,’ through the door. She hurried in, leaving the door wide. Mandy moved quietly to a place where she could catch a glimpse of Renzo, but at the last moment she stopped, suddenly reluctant.

For two years she’d carried the memory of a man who was delightful, sweet-natured and devil-may-care. Every moment he’d been there in her heart, gazing gently at her with eyes full of love.

Now she was filled with foreboding. His voice alone warned her of a change in him, but that was natural, she tried to reassure herself. Inside, he was still the same man and when he saw her he would smile with joyful recognition.

Mandy moved quietly to where she could peer through the gap, and beheld him for the first time in two years. And what she saw made her freeze.

For a moment she actually didn’t recognise him. Who was this grim, tight-faced individual? How could he be the man who’d held her so tenderly on the mountain?

He was sitting behind a large desk, but suddenly he got to his feet and began to pace the room, hectoring the man who was sitting there, listening uncomfortably.

Mandy had a good look at his profile as he turned and recognised the sharp nose and firm chin. This was Renzo and not Renzo.

He must have suffered, she told herself. That and two years had changed him, as it had changed her. Yet there was something about this grim caricature that smothered her first happiness on finding him, leaving behind only dismay and sadness.

She backed away quickly and was seated again when Lucia hurried out.

‘Now he wants something else, quick as possible, only it’s buried in the files-somewhere.’

‘I’ll hold the fort while you look,’ Mandy said.

‘Thanks. He might call for that.’ She indicated a newspaper cutting on the desk and hurried away.

Mandy stayed listening to Renzo’s voice coming from next door, trying to hear in its harshness some hint of the voice she remembered-resonant, teasing, full of life. But it was impossible. This could have been the voice of a machine.

But that would surely change when he realized that she was there and the memories of their time together came surging back.

‘Lucia, bring me that cutting.’ The order was barked out.

She took the cutting and went next door, her heart beating with expectation, waiting for the moment when he saw her, the shock in his face, then the pleasure.

He was standing by the window, talking over his shoulder to the fat man who sat with a scowl on his face. Mandy made out the words, ‘I don’t know how you thought you’d get away with it, Vanwick. Do you think I don’t read the paperwork, or did you think I couldn’t understand it?’

‘You’re making too much of this,’ Vanwick tried to say.

‘When a man cooks the books to charge me double, I’ll make of it what I like. Look at that newspaper cutting. It’ll tell you how much I know.’

As Vanwick took the cutting Renzo turned and regarded him contemptuously. His eyes flickered over Mandy and away again. There was no recognition. Nothing. He might not even have seen her.

But, just for a moment, he glanced back. Was it there? A question? Is she, isn’t she?

Then Vanwick spoke, trying to whine his way out of trouble, but Renzo silenced him with a blast of cold fury, all the more frightening for being restrained. As he spoke he moved about the room, occasionally pausing. And now Mandy, sharply alert, noticed that he kept one hand behind him. And that hand was always holding on to something, out of Vanwick’s sight.

Another glance at his face and she understood everything. He was in pain, suffering so badly that it was all he could do to stay on his feet.

Sit down, she told him silently. Why can’t you be sensible and sit down?

Because I’m an awkward customer, he told her out of the past. I have to do it my way. Anything else is just giving in.

His hand was just visible, so that she saw the moment when it clenched violently and knew he was at the end of his tether. Suddenly he swayed. Quick as a flash, she moved in front of him and felt his hand grip her arm with frantic strength.

‘Get out of here,’ he told Vanwick.

‘But what are you going to-’

‘I’ll tell you later what I’m going to do. In the meantime you can sweat. Now get out!’

Vanwick hurried away. As soon as the door was closed Renzo’s grip grew more fierce and he leaned on her heavily from behind.

‘A chair,’ he said hoarsely.

She guided him carefully to the nearest chair and supported him with all her strength, so that she could ease him into it slowly.

‘You should have a doctor,’ she said.

‘No, I just need a few minutes’ rest while my back eases. Get me the pills in the desk drawer.’

She found them and poured him some water from a decanter. He gulped everything down and sat there, shaking.

‘I still think you should-’ she began, but he interrupted her sharply.

‘Never mind what you think. If you’re going to work here, you’ll have to learn not to argue with me.’

‘But I’m not going to work here.’

‘Aren’t you Lucia’s new assistant?’

‘No, I’m…just someone who happened to be here. Let’s leave that until later. Can you rest in that chair? It looks a bit hard.’

‘You’re right. I need to get across the courtyard to the part of the building where I live.’

‘Shall I fetch someone to help you?’

‘No way. Do you think I want my staff knowing that I’m like this? Why do you suppose I threw Vanwick out?’

‘You mustn’t show weakness to an enemy, must you?’

‘So you do understand that!’

‘But your staff aren’t enemies.’

‘It’s as dangerous to show weakness to employees as to enemies.’

‘Well, as I’m neither-’

‘No, you’re a damned interfering woman, who has to stick her nose into other people’s business but, now you’ve done it, you may as well be useful.’

Indignation made her speak without thinking. ‘You’re a real charmer, aren’t you?’

Renzo turned his head quickly, his eyes meeting hers, while the words resonated between them. How often in the past had she accused him of charm?

And he must remember it now. How could he not?

‘I can be,’ he said at last. ‘When I have something to gain.’

‘Well, don’t waste it on me,’ she ordered him tartly. ‘Just tell me what you want me to do.’

‘Let me take your arm while we walk across to the other side.’

Mandy had to help him up, not looking at his face because she knew he would hate her to see it contorted in pain. Then he slipped his hand through her arm and made it to the door, leaning on her slightly.

They moved across the hall to another door that led into a wide courtyard, beautiful with flowers and shrubs, where a gardener was working. Renzo beamed and called to him pleasantly, while the hand that gripped her tightened desperately.

‘That door,’ he said, pointing. ‘Here’s the key.’

She guided him through it and to a chair.

‘Close the door,’ he gasped. ‘And lock it.’

An elderly woman appeared through the opposite door, horrified when she saw him. ‘I told you what would happen if you overdid it,’ she exclaimed.

Instead of barking at her, Renzo assumed a rueful expression. ‘All right, Teresa, you knew best, as always. Just get me a whisky.’

‘On top of those pills?’ Mandy exclaimed. ‘I don’t know what they were, but if they’re any good you shouldn’t be drinking alcohol.’

‘Cancel the whisky,’ Renzo growled. ‘I’ll have it later.’

He lay back against the sofa, covering his eyes with his hand. Mandy watched him with pity, wanting to go to him but knowing this wasn’t the time. There was so much to be said first, so much to be discovered. Did he have any memory of her at all?

Glancing around the room, she saw a wheelchair standing by the far wall. She wondered how much time he spent in it. Clearly he could walk, but not very much, and she guessed he forced himself to his feet more often than he ought.

At last Renzo dropped his hand and found Mandy was sitting in front of him, where he could see her face clearly. For a moment they looked at each other.

‘Do I know you?’ he asked at last.

She tensed, feeling the question like a slap in the face.

‘I’m not sure,’ she said after a moment. ‘Perhaps you do.’

‘It was you, wasn’t it-on the mountain?’

‘Yes, it was me.’

‘Then you really existed all the time? I wasn’t certain. I had so many dreams and illusions-I’ve lived in limbo.’

‘I thought you were dead,’ she said softly.

His mouth twisted. ‘I am dead. Can’t you see?’

‘You’re not dead, you’re just bad tempered,’ she said, speaking lightly on purpose. ‘But that’s not surprising. From what I heard, you went through a terrible time-’

‘For pity’s sake, don’t start being sweet and understanding,’ he said in disgust. ‘It makes me want to commit murder.’

‘No change there, then. You and I often wanted to murder each other.’

‘Yes, that bit’s coming back. We were always quarrelling, weren’t we?’

‘Not quarrelling,’ she said quickly, ‘bickering.’

‘Don’t sugar it. I was probably just as much of an ill-tempered swine in those days.’

‘No, you weren’t. You liked your own way, but you laughed a lot.’

He gave a grunt. ‘I don’t remember.’

No, she thought sadly. This wasn’t the man she’d known, but another man who couldn’t even recall who he himself had been. For a dreadful moment she wanted to walk out and never come back.

But she ignored the impulse. It was too soon to give up hope.

‘But you remember me?’ she asked, a touch wistfully.

‘Only in the sense that I knew I’d seen your face before-somewhere. When I was in hospital I had some strange dreams, and you were often there.’

‘But you didn’t know if I was real or some mad sprite conjured up to torment you?’

‘Something like that. I’m beginning to understand now.’

‘A mad sprite?’

‘Definitely.’

He spoke forcefully, but couldn’t suppress a wince of pain.

‘Enough for now,’ she said. ‘We’ll talk when you’re feeling better.’

‘Who says we will? You’re very free about giving orders in my house. I want that whisky.’

‘No whisky.’

‘Be damned to you!’

‘Anything you say. I’m awkward, interfering, overstepping the mark. But if you remember anything about me, that shouldn’t surprise you.’

‘You’ll leave this house now if you’ve got any sense.’

‘Oh, I never had any of that.’

‘Just go anyway, will you?’ he said in a harsh voice. ‘Please go.’

Mandy almost ran out of the room. Despite her combative tone, her heart was breaking. She’d thought she was prepared for the worst, but the reality was more terrible than anything she’d foreseen.

Safe out of sight, she leaned back against the wall, tears streaming down her face, whispering, ‘No, no…please…no, it can’t be…It mustn’t be…Oh, my love…my love…’

She put up her hands to hide her face and remained there, helpless with grief, until a soft touch on her arm made her glance up to see Teresa.

‘This way,’ Teresa said softly, drawing her away until they reached the kitchen.

Mandy collapsed into a chair at the table, laid her head down on her arms and sobbed without restraint. Teresa wisely left her to it while she got on with making coffee.

Finally Mandy managed to pull herself together and drink from the cup Teresa had laid by her elbow.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said huskily.

‘Don’t be sorry. Better this way.’

It was true. The explosion had left her with a sense of relief.

‘I’m Mandy,’ she said.

‘Did you let him scare you? You shouldn’t.’

‘Aren’t you scared?’

‘Not me. I was working for his family when he was a little boy.’

‘Were you here when his mother left?’

‘You know about that? How?’

‘He told me.’

‘He told you that?’ Teresa seemed thunderstruck. ‘He actually told you? But he never tells anyone. He doesn’t talk about it-ever. He’d die first.’

‘Maybe that’s it. We were trapped together in the avalanche, and he thought he was going to die. We both did.’

‘So it was you,’ Teresa said, looking at her shrewdly.

‘How do you mean?’

‘You were on that mountain with him.’

‘Does he ever talk about me?’ Mandy asked eagerly.

‘It’s the way he refuses to talk about you that’s always made me wonder. He said there was someone there, but then he clammed up. I’ve never known whether she’d really gone from his mind, or whether he was trying to drive her away. He’s been that way ever since his bitch of a mother left. He buries everything inside and there are things he won’t let anyone speak of. I looked after him then, and I’m still doing it.’

Teresa was silent for a moment, and Mandy had the impression that she knew much and spoke little.

‘Did you see the wheelchair?’ Teresa asked, pouring some more coffee.

‘Yes, tucked away in the corner.’

‘He never uses it if he can help it. And nobody on the “work” side of the house is even supposed to know about it. They all do, of course, but they pretend not to. The door’s always locked so that they can’t wander in here.’

A locked door, Mandy thought. Somehow that seemed to say everything about Renzo now.

‘There was a time,’ Teresa continued, ‘when this place was like a harem. Do you know how many women chased him?’

‘I’ve got a good idea.’

‘Now, he tries to avoid women. He doesn’t like them to see him as he is now.’

‘It’s horrible,’ Mandy whispered.

‘Yes, it is,’ Teresa agreed. ‘I’m afraid for him, because if something doesn’t happen soon, I think he’ll go mad.’

The bell rang from the next room.

‘That’s him,’ Teresa said. ‘I must go to him.’

Mandy stayed in the kitchen, trying to work out what she would say when she next saw Renzo.

Today had been a shock, yet she supposed she should have expected it. How unreal now seemed her dreams of instant reconciliation. She shouldn’t have turned up without warning. When she next saw him, she would try to repair the damage and start again.

Teresa returned a few moments later, seeming troubled.

‘He wants you to go,’ she said.

‘But I must talk to him again.’

‘He says I’m not to let you back in under any circumstances, and he means it. When he’s in that mood you can’t argue with him. Shall I call you a taxi?’

‘No need. My hotel is just in the next street.’

She named it, but Teresa shook her head.

‘He won’t change his mind. He’s as stubborn as granite these days.’

There was nothing for Mandy to do but leave. As she walked away from the house she couldn’t resist glancing back, although she knew it was pointless. He wouldn’t be looking out to catch a glimpse of her. Renzo had bolted and barred himself from all the world and there was no way in, even for her. The man she’d longed to find was dead after all: as dead as if he’d never lived.