Bartering Her Innocence. Trish Morey
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‘Okay, Lily,’ she managed while her mother drew breath. ‘So what makes you think Luca Barbarigo is trying to throw you out of the palazzo? He’s Eduardo’s nephew after all. Why would he threaten such a thing? And in English, please, if you don’t mind. You know my French is rusty.’
‘I told you that you need to spend more time on the Continent,’ her mother berated, switching grievances as seamlessly as she switched languages, ‘instead of burying yourself out there in the Australian outback.’
‘Junee is hardly outback,’ she argued of the mid-sized New South Wales town that was less than two hours from the semi-bright lights of Canberra. Besides, she hadn’t exactly buried herself out here, more like she’d made a tactical withdrawal from a world she wanted no further part in. And then, because she was still feeling winded by her mother’s demands, she added, ‘It’s quite civilised actually. There’s even talk of a new bowling alley.’
Silence greeted that announcement and Tina imagined her mother’s pursed lips and pinched expression at her daughter’s inability to comprehend that in order to be considered civilised, a city needed at least half a dozen opera theatres, preferably centuries old, at a bare minimum.
‘Anyway, you still haven’t explained what’s going on. Why is Luca Barbarigo threatening to throw you out? What kind of hold could he possibly have over you? Eduardo left you the palazzo, didn’t he?’
Her mother fell unusually quiet. Tina heard the clock on the mantel ticking; heard the back door creak open and bang shut as her father went outside, probably so he didn’t have to hear whatever mess Lily was involved in now. ‘Well,’ she said finally, her tone more subdued, ‘I may have borrowed some money from him.’
‘You what?’ Tina squeezed her eyes shut. Luca Barbarigo had a reputation as a financier of last resort. By all accounts he’d built a fortune on it, rebuilding the coffers of his family’s past fortune. She swallowed. Of all the people her mother could borrow from, of all the contacts she must have, and she had to choose him! ‘But why?’
‘I had no choice!’ her mother asserted. ‘I had to get the money from somewhere and I assumed that being family he’d take care of me. He promised he’d take care of me.’
He’d taken care of her all right. And taken advantage into the deal. ‘You had to get money for what?’
‘To live, of course. You know Eduardo left me with a fraction of the fortune he made out that he had.’
And you’ve never forgiven him for it. ‘So you borrowed money from Luca Barbarigo and now he wants it back.’
‘He said if I couldn’t pay him, he’d take the palazzo.’
‘How much money are we talking about?’ Tina asked, pressure building in her temples. The centuries-old palazzo might be just off the Grand Canal, but it would still be worth millions. What kind of hold did he have over her? ‘How much do you owe him?’
‘Good God, what do you take me for? Why do you even have to ask?’
Tina rubbed her forehead. ‘Okay. Then how can he possibly throw you out?’
‘That’s why I need you here! You can make him understand how unreasonable he is being.’
‘You don’t need me to do that. I’m sure you know plenty of people right there who can help.’
‘But he’s your friend!’
Ice snaked down Tina’s spine. Hardly friends. In the kitchen the kettle started to whistle, a thin and shrill note and perfectly in tune with her fractured nerves and painful memories. She’d met Luca just three times in her life. The first in Venice at her mother’s wedding, where she’d heard his charming words and felt the attraction as he’d taken her hand and she’d decided in an instant that he was exactly the kind of charming, good-looking rich man that her mother would bend over backwards to snare and that she wanted no part of. And when he’d asked her to spend the night with him, she’d told him she wasn’t interested. After all, Lily might be her mother, but no way was Tina her mother’s daughter.
The second time had been at Eduardo’s seventieth birthday, a lavish affair where they’d barely done more than exchange pleasantries. Sure, she’d felt his eyes burn into her flesh and set her skin to tingling as they’d followed her progress around the room, but he’d kept his distance and she’d celebrated that fact, even if he hadn’t given her the satisfaction of turning him down again. But clearly her message had struck home.
The third had been at a party in Klosters where she’d been celebrating a friend’s birthday. She’d had one too many glasses of champagne and her guard was down and Luca had appeared out of the crowd and suddenly his charm was infectious and he was warm and amusing and he’d taken her aside and kissed her and every shred of self-preservation she’d had had melted away in that one molten kiss.
One night they’d spent together—one night that had ended in disaster and anguish and that could never be blotted from her mind—one night that she’d never shared with her mother. ‘Who said we were friends?’
‘He did, of course. He asked after you.’
Bastard! As if he cared. He had never cared. ‘He lied,’ she said, the screaming kettle as her choir. ‘We were never friends.’
Never were.
Never could be.
‘Well,’ her mother said, ‘maybe that’s preferable under the circumstances. Then you’ll have nothing to risk by intervening on my behalf.’
She put a hand to her forehead, certain the screaming must be coming from somewhere inside her skull. ‘Look, Lily, I don’t know what good I can do. There is no way my being there will help your cause. Besides, I can’t get away. We’re about to start shearing and Dad really needs me here right now. Maybe you’d be better off engaging a lawyer.’
‘And just how do you think I’ll be able to afford to pay for a lawyer?’
She heard the back screen door slam and her father’s muttered curse before the screaming abruptly tapered off. She shook her head. ‘I really don’t know.’ And right now she didn’t care. Except to ensure she didn’t have to go. ‘Maybe … maybe you could sell one or two of those chandeliers you have.’ God knew, from the last time she’d visited, it seemed her mother had enough of them to fill a dozen palazzos. Surely if she owed a bit of money she could afford to dispense with one or two?
‘Sell my Murano glass? You must be mad! It’s irreplaceable! Every piece is individual.’
‘Fine, Lily,’ she said, ‘it was just a suggestion. But under the circumstances I really don’t know what else I can suggest. I’m sorry you’re having money troubles, but I’m sure I’d be no help at all. And I really am needed here. The shearers arrive tomorrow, it’s going to be full-on.’
‘But you have to come, Valentina! You must!’
Tina put the phone down and leaned on the receiver a while, the stabbing pain behind her eyes developing into a dull persistent throb. Why now? Why him? It was likely her mother was exaggerating the seriousness of her money problems—she usually managed to blow any problem right out of proportion—but what if this time she wasn’t? What if she was in serious financial trouble? And what could she do about it? It wasn’t likely that Luca Barbarigo was going to listen to her.
Old friends? What was he playing at? Ships that crashed in the night would be closer to the mark.
‘I take it your mother wasn’t calling to wish you a happy birthday, love?’ Her father was standing in the kitchen doorframe, a mug of coffee wrapped in each of his big paw-like hands.
She smiled, in spite of the heaviness of her heart and the sick feeling in her gut. ‘You got that impression, huh?’
He held up one of the mugs in answer. ‘Fancy a coffee? Or maybe you’d like something stronger?’