Veretti’s Dark Vengeance

CHAPTER FIVE

HELENA knew it was unwise to dance with him, but he’d given her no chance to refuse. His hand was on her waist, drawing her close to his body so that she could feel the movement of his legs against hers through the delicate silk of her dress. Then caution dissolved into enjoyment. They were both excellent dancers, spinning around the floor in perfect accord. Her spirits soared.

When the music ended he raised her hand and kissed it gallantly.

‘It was a real pleasure,’ he said. ‘One I don’t get very often.’

Another partner presented himself, seeking the honour of dancing with her. Salvatore bowed and retreated, leaving the couple to take the floor.

Her new partner was a fine, upstanding young man with a handsome face and easy movements, but now she’d danced with Salvatore it was like drinking tap water after champagne. When it was over she thanked him pleasantly and refused all further requests.

It was time for the auction. Clara claimed everyone’s attention, commended them for attending and made a speech of thanks to the donors. She spoke of the fund-raising which was to provide money for the children’s hospital, ensuring that it had the very best equipment. At the end of her speech-

‘Finally, our two stars of the evening, Signor Salvatore Veretti, owner of Perroni, and Signora Helena Veretti, owner of Larezzo. As you all know, these are the two biggest and most successful glass works in the city. Normally, of course, they are deadly rivals-’

She was interrupted by cheers and applause, as everyone regarded the ‘deadly rivals’ with fascination, causing them to bow and smile, then exchange conspiratorial glances.

‘Guess what they’re thinking,’ Salvatore murmured.

‘Whatever it is, they’re a long way from the truth,’ she murmured back.

‘But tonight,’ Clara continued, ‘for the sake of the charities we support, they have put their rivalry aside. That is-almost aside, for, as you see, they have competed to see who gave the most generous offering.’

She indicated the two glass figures, and there was more applause.

The auction began. One by one the pieces were sold for prices greatly above their true value and the fund rose to satisfying proportions. At last only the two glass figures were left, gleaming gloriously under the floodlights.

‘And now, the moment we’ve all been waiting for,’ Clara declared, stepping aside to indicate them. ‘Which one shall we auction first?’

‘Mine,’ Salvatore said at once. He gave Helena a mischievous look. ‘Let my rival see the price my eagle will realise, and tremble.’

She joined in the laughter, but she was feeling uneasy. Salvatore’s magnificent eagle outshone her horse and everyone knew it. He would have no trouble defeating her.

One part of her said she’d fallen into a trap and he would make a fool of her, yet the other part refused to believe it. Some mysterious instinct told her that this man might be cruel, he was undoubtedly ruthless, but he would not be petty.

He saw her looking at him. ‘Trust me,’ he said, as though he’d read her thoughts perfectly.

The bidding began and mounted fast: quite rightly, Helena thought, but her heart sank as she saw the inevitable moment approaching. She gulped when she heard the final price, forty thousand euro.

Then it was time for the glass horse, and she soon realised that her fears were unfounded. The value of the pieces was almost irrelevant. The crowd was having fun backing them against each other, and as the bids rose and rose they began cheering her on.

But then things slowed down and came to a halt at thirty-five thousand. A groan went up, but it was broken by a voice crying,

‘Fifty thousand euro.’

The cheer grew louder. The bid had come from Salvatore.

‘Fifty-five,’ came a voice from the crowd.

‘Sixty.’ Salvatore topped it at once.

‘Hey, wait,’ Franco said urgently. ‘We had a deal that you weren’t going to do this.’

‘No, the deal was that we wouldn’t bid for our own pieces,’ Salvatore reminded him. ‘There’s nothing to stop me bidding against myself.’

‘But you can’t do that.’

‘Yes he can,’ Helena said through laughter. ‘He can do anything he wants.’

‘I’m glad you realise that,’ Salvatore said softly.

‘Seventy,’ called a voice.

‘Eighty,’ Salvatore said at once.

‘Ninety.’

‘A hundred!’

‘Going, going, gone-for a hundred thousand euros.’

There was frantic applause, but Helena was troubled.

‘This isn’t funny any more,’ she said.

‘You won. You should be delighted.’

‘What about all those people who took bets with you? They’re looking very disgruntled and who can blame them? Why should they pay you when you won by very dubious means?’

‘Thus confirming your opinion of me, which should please you.’

‘Salvatore, you cheated. You can’t take their money.’

‘You just said I could do anything I want.’

‘It was a joke then, it isn’t now.’

‘Helena, let me assure you that your pity is misplaced. Every single person who laid those bets is extremely rich. Paying up will be nothing to them.’

‘But that’s not the point. Please, Salvatore, let them off.’

He regarded her steadily with a look on his face that she couldn’t read. Then he said, slowly and deliberately, ‘I don’t let people off. Hell will freeze over first.’

‘Salvatore-’

‘They challenged me, and if they didn’t bother to check the terms first, that’s their look-out. I fight to win, and if necessary I fight dirty. I thought you already knew that.’

She stepped back from him in dismay. Until then the evening had been pleasant. He’d charmed her, showing her a side of himself that contrasted with everything that had gone before. It had been confusing but even that had been enjoyable.

Now she saw how naïve she’d been to think there was another side to him. He’d given a chilly demonstration of deviousness that was also a warning to her, and there was a wry look on his face, his lips twisted in what might have been derision as he saw that she understood.

‘You bastard,’ she murmured. ‘You sly, devious, cold-blooded-’

‘Save it. I don’t have the time to listen.’

To her horror he walked away towards the table and turned, holding up his hands for quiet.

‘Some of you are feeling pretty aggrieved at the way I won our bet. You’re wondering if I’m going to say it was all a joke, and you needn’t pay up. But you should know me better than that. Start writing now.’ He paused for one split second before saying with a grin, ‘All cheques to be made out to the charity fund.’

There was a gasp, then a cheer as they realised how neatly he’d hoodwinked them. Clara threw her arms around him in an ecstasy of gratitude. There was much hurried scribbling, several cheques for ten thousand euros each were handed in, after which Salvatore took out his own chequebook and handed Clara a hundred thousand euros.

Then he looked directly at Helena with an expression that clearly said, Fooled you!

She forgave him at once. She would have forgiven him anything for the sense of joyful relief that flooded through her.

He came over and took her hands.

‘Let us go where it’s cooler,’ he said.

He led her out onto the terrace and saw her to a seat.

‘You should be ashamed of what you were thinking,’ he reproved.

‘You should be ashamed of making me think it.’

‘You should also be ashamed of your poor arithmetic. I bid a hundred thousand to win those bets, but if I’d accepted the losers’ money I’d only have won seventy thousand, so if I were the schemer you thought I’d still have been thirty thousand out of pocket. That’s no way to make a fortune.’

‘But-what you did was sort of cheating, wasn’t it?’

‘Of course I cheated. There’s no “sort of” about it. Some of them were only there to be seen with a contessa, and get a reputation for being charitable, while giving as little as possible to the hospital. So I tricked them into giving more than they’d meant to. Did I do wrong?’

‘Of course not. It was marvellous.’

Salvatore laughed. ‘I must admit I did gain something for myself.’

‘What was that?’

‘The sight of your face, especially the moment when you realised that I might not be a total monster after all. I wouldn’t have missed that for the world.’

They laughed together, then fell silent. At last he said, ‘I wonder if you can imagine how glad I am to see you tonight. I’ve wanted so much to talk to you again.’

‘Yes, I’ve been thinking another talk would be good,’ Helena said, smiling.

‘Tell me how you’re managing. Is there anything I can do for you?’

‘Excuse me, I’m confused. Is this the man who threatened to drive me into bankruptcy so that he could buy me out at his own price?’

He made a gesture as if the memory pained him.

‘I wish you’d forget that. I said a lot of things I didn’t mean. You were right, I’m not used to being challenged and I didn’t react very well. The truth is I admire you for having the guts to take it on, and even more for having the guts to take me on.’

‘You might well, considering that it was you who galled me into doing it.’

‘True,’ he said ruefully. ‘Sometimes I just talk too much and it comes back and hits me in the face. I got well served, didn’t I?’

‘It’s nice to hear you admit it.’

‘How are you liking Venice?’ he asked.

‘I love it, what little I’ve seen. Everyone’s so nice to me, and I find the factory really fascinating. I’m learning fast. I’m even developing my own ideas. Of course, I’m very amateurish. You’d have a good laugh.’

‘No, I wouldn’t laugh. We’re fellow professionals. Look, we’ve had our differences but what’s done is done. What matters is the future and if there’s anything I can do to help you, please tell me. I still want to see Antonio’s place succeed, even if it isn’t mine.’

Once she would have come back with a swift riposte, saying he wished her well only so that the firm would be in good order when he finally managed to buy it.

But the impulse died before the sincerity in his eyes and the kindness in his voice. Now she could believe that he was truly offering her his friendship.

‘Well, there is something you could explain to me,’ she said slowly. ‘What happens when the glass…?’

He nodded, then embarked on an explanation that was tailored to her understanding, yet detailed enough to be really useful. For the next hour they discussed glass-making techniques, and when they rose to go inside she felt she’d had a valuable lesson.

‘Goodnight, Helena,’ he said softly. ‘And remember, whenever you need help, I’m here.’

‘Thank you, Salvatore. I can’t tell you how much that means to me.’

He kissed her hand and departed.

Helena made her way slowly to her room, sunk in thought about the conflicting impressions that had assailed her tonight. One, above all the others, cried out for action.

She’d wondered if Salvatore was behind the bank’s demand, trying to force her to the wall. After tonight she had no doubt that the answer was yes.

When Helena’s arrival was announced Salvatore looked up with pleasure.

‘Helena, come in. I’ve been hoping you’d call.’

There had been no contact between them for two days. Now she appeared at the Palazzo Veretti, in the room he used as an office, glowing and beautiful and he rose, stretching out his hands to her.

His smile didn’t fool her, nor the way he ushered her to a chair, then sat on the desk, leaning over her solicitously. He was expecting her capitulation.

‘And here I am, with some news for you,’ she said.

She gave herself a moment to enjoy his expectant look, before saying, ‘I’ve been a bit preoccupied recently. The bank called in the loan on the factory. They actually wanted repayment in two weeks. I ask you, what can anyone do in two weeks?’

‘Not very much, I imagine,’ he said sympathetically.

‘It looked as though selling to you was my only option. Well, I’ve just been to the bank and I thought I should come to see you immediately.’

‘Very understandable,’ he observed. ‘I’m grateful for your courtesy. Did the bank manager give you a hard time?’

‘No, he was nice, but there were so many papers to sign, and I didn’t understand half of them. Never mind, it’s all done now, and I’m free, free!’

‘Well, you will be when we’ve completed the sale. Don’t worry, I’ll give you a fair price. I don’t like to think of you worrying about money.’

‘Oh, Salvatore, how kind of you to be concerned for me! But there’s no need. I’ve paid the loan off, every last penny.’ A delight in danger made her add, ‘Isn’t that wonderful?’

He put his head on one side. ‘Is this the joke of the day?’

‘I never joke about money, any more than you do, I’m sure. Here, these will convince you.’

She took out the official papers, signed, witnessed and complete, proving that Larezzo was now officially free from debt.

Salvatore’s first thought was that they were forgeries, but then his head cleared and he saw the signature of Valerio Donati, the bank manager, a signature he knew well. Everything was perfectly in order. Payment had been made in full.

His face was a careful blank as he summoned up all his reserves of control. They had never failed him before, but nothing in the past had mattered quite as much as this.

She was smiling as though this were no more than an innocent moment between friends, but he knew better. She’d come here today to flaunt her triumph, letting him delude himself that he’d won. Now she was doubtless laughing inside. Anger flared up in him but he suppressed it. How she would enjoy any sign that he was disturbed.

‘Very clever,’ he said at last. ‘I underestimated you.’

‘Now, there’s an admission!’

‘A temporary admission. It won’t last. You’ll sell in the end.’

‘Oh, will I? I’ve heard of stubbornness but this is absurd.’

‘Is it? Let’s face facts. Are you pretending that Antonio left you enough spare cash to cover this?’

‘No, he didn’t. If anything his funds were running rather low in his last months.’

‘Then you must have raised a huge bank loan.’

‘Really? Perhaps you shouldn’t jump to conclusions.’

‘I think this one is safe enough.’

‘Salvatore, you have a problem.’

‘I have a problem?’

‘Yes, you simply can’t believe anything that doesn’t suit you. It weakens your position because it means that your enemy is always one step ahead, knowing something that you don’t.’

‘The enemy being you?’

‘If you like.’

She laughed up into his face as she said it, and for a moment he was invaded by a delight so intense that it almost drove everything else from his mind. He fought it. This was no time for emotion.

‘Very well,’ he said slowly. ‘Enemies it is. But how foolish of you to cross me. It’s something I don’t allow. You’ll discover that.’

‘Oh, don’t be so serious. I’ve won this round, you’ll probably win the next one, then I’ll win the one after-’

‘And I’ll win the last one.’

‘Maybe. Shake?’

Reluctantly he took the hand she held out and held it for a moment.

‘So you’re still determined to drive me out of Venice?’ she said lightly.

The sudden tension in his grip told her all she wanted to know. He didn’t want to drive her out.

‘Perhaps,’ he said slowly. ‘Or maybe I’ll let you stay-if it suits me.’

‘It always has to be on your terms, doesn’t it?’

He raised her hand, touching it with gentle, seductive lips that sent scurries of pleasure through her.

‘Always,’ he confirmed. ‘But here-’he glanced around his office ‘-isn’t our real battlefield. It’s the other one that counts, and there-who knows who the victor will be?’

Helena laughed. ‘Shame on you. You think you’re going to win that one too?’

‘Perhaps that depends on what you call victory,’ he parried. ‘We may both enjoy finding out.’

‘That’s true. I’ll leave you now. You’ll need some time to consider your next attack. But remember what I told you. Beware the enemy-no, not enemy, opponent-’

‘That’s better,’ he agreed.

He was still holding her hand, smiling in a way that disturbed her. The warmth was stealing through her again, making her smile back-Like an idiot, she reproved herself.

‘You’re getting out of character,’ she said.

‘What?’

‘You’re supposed to be angry with me, don’t you remember?’

‘I am-very angry.’

‘You’re absolutely furious that I put one over on you.’

‘In a terrible rage.’

‘I can see. And you’re planning your revenge.’

‘Not planning it,’ he said quietly. ‘Taking it.’

On the words he drew her close and kissed her, wrapping both his arms right round her, imprisoning her own arms so that she had no choice but to stand still, defenceless against anything he wanted to do.

And what he wanted was to caress her lightly, teasingly, each whispered touch a reminder of their ‘other battlefield’ and the thrilling skirmishes still to come. She relished it as long as she could endure immobility, then broke free and took over the kiss.

‘Call that revenge?’ she demanded. ‘This is revenge.’

She returned his attack in full measure, pressing close to him while her lips made silent promises that challenged his self-control, just as he’d challenged hers. It was a battle of the Titans.

‘I must go,’ she whispered. ‘I have a lot of things to do.’

She moved towards the door, then stopped and looked back.

‘Remember my warning. Beware the opponent who knows something you don’t.’

She was gone.

That evening Salvatore called on Valerio Donati. He was always a welcome guest in the bank manager’s house, and was impatient to plan his next move. But things didn’t go as he’d expected.

‘That’s the last time I listen to you,’ Donati grumbled as they sat down to dinner. ‘Call the loan in, you said. She can’t cope, you said. In fact it was easy for her to cope, given who she is.’

‘Who is she,’ Salvatore demanded, ‘apart from Antonio’s widow?’

‘Are you saying you didn’t realise you were dealing with “Helen of Troy”?’ Donati demanded.

‘Of course he didn’t,’ his wife said. ‘Salvatore doesn’t read the fashion pages, or he’d have known that her face was everywhere before she retired. They say she was among the highest-paid models in the world. She must be worth a fortune.’

Salvatore smiled and made a polite response, but inwardly he was in turmoil, remembering Helena’s words. This was the secret that she had known and he hadn’t. She’d taunted him with it, and she’d won.

He left his hosts early and walked home through the little darkened calles, and as he went it seemed to him that Helena was with him, chuckling at how easily she’d called his bluff.

On reaching home he shut himself in his office and got on to the internet. The name ‘Helen of Troy’ brought up a host of information about her success at an early age, right up to her retirement two years earlier, after which she seemed to have vanished. There was no mention of her marriage.

Then he turned to the pictures, hundreds of them, going back years to the first shots of her as a teenager, on through her magnificent twenties, to her very last photo shoot. It was like being confronted by a dozen different women.

The first Helena was little more than a child, giving the camera a naïve, confiding glance. Then she was laughing, inviting the spectator into a happy conspiracy, modelling a revealing dress, but with a touching innocence.

As he went on he had the strange feeling that the happy spontaneity vanished quickly. Something in that baby face had changed overnight. Even through her bright, professional smiles he could sense that she’d become older, sadder, knowing. And it hadn’t happened over time, which would have been natural, but suddenly, shockingly.

A memory disturbed him: Helena studying the two pictures of his mother, the one young and happy, the other prematurely aged by misery. He’d snubbed her, refusing to discuss a subject that was unbearable to him.

He rose to his feet and paced the room restlessly, trying to drive the memories away. Every day he fought to banish them, and it was part of this woman’s awkwardness that she brought them flooding back.

He went out into the corridor and stood listening to the quiet house. He should go back and continue his research into ‘Helen of Troy’, seeking the weakness through which he could overcome her, but instead he wandered along the corridor until he came to the room that had once been his mother’s. There he stopped.

How many times had he stood here listening to her sobs from inside, longing to comfort that anguished woman, knowing that it wasn’t in his power? Somewhere along the line his pain had turned to a rage that was still with him, years after her death. It was there now, making him crash his fist helplessly against the door.

At last he returned to his office and resumed his study of his foe, starting again with the young girl, innocent, then imbued with a poignant consciousness that shouldn’t have been there for years. For a brief moment he could almost have pitied her, but the impulse died as he went on through the rest of the pictures.

Now he understood the first picture he had ever seen of her, on the beach with Antonio, her glorious shape barely covered in a tiny bikini. Instinctively he’d known that this was a ‘professional’ body, professionally honed, tended, protected, in order to be put on show and make a profit. Up to a point he’d been right.

But she wasn’t the lady of dubious morals he’d assumed. She was a successful businesswoman with a shrewd brain that told one story, while her appearance told another.

What an actress she was, sultry and sexy one moment, reserved and virginal the next! He stared hard at her face on the screen, the lips full and pouting, the half-closed eyes delivering an unmistakeable message.

Come to me-hold me-touch me-let me show what I can do for you.

But the next picture delivered an equally clear message:

Stay back-I belong only to myself-

He brought the two pictures up together and leaned back in his chair, trying to order his thoughts. The contrast in her different aspects affected him more than he wanted it to. It meant that she was a mystery, which placed another high card in her hand, and that he found intolerable.

She’d challenged him on two levels, personal and professional, winning on both counts. The night of their meeting she’d faced him as an equal, teasing and provoking, knowing her power, flaunting it as though he were just another suppliant at her feet. That was a piece of impertinence, not to be borne.

Now she’d also taken him on as a business opponent, meeting his financial strike against her with alarming ease. On that level too she must be brought under his control.

Only then did it occur to him to wonder which of the two was the more essential, and when he realised that he didn’t know, alarm bells began to ring.

At one time there would have been no doubt which one he wanted more. Only business mattered. Women came second. But this woman was unlike any other.

His time would come. When he took her to bed and held her naked in his arms, when he heard her cry out helplessly with the pleasure that only he could give her, then she would be no different from other women.

From now on he would live for that day.