Modern Romance July 2016 Books 1-4. Miranda Lee
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and Giovanni shook his head.
‘Platinum.’
The emeralds were amazing—the size of robins’ eggs, they sparkled and beguiled. They were so beautiful that even their image made Matteo reach out to run his finger over the stones. ‘We thought it was just a tale that you told, that they were some old coins or something.’
‘So you do remember!’
Matteo conceded that he did with a half smile. ‘Yes, I remember you telling us your tale.’ He let out a low whistle as he looked at the necklace again. ‘This would be worth...’ Usually he could pick this sort of thing but in this instance he really didn’t know. ‘Millions?’ he loosely gauged.
‘And some.’
‘Who’s the designer?’ he asked. ‘What jewellery house...?’
‘Unknown,’ Giovanni quickly said and Matteo frowned because surely a piece of jewellery as exquisite as this would have some considerable history attached.
‘Is this how you got your start?’ he asked. He could see it a little more clearly. Di Sione had started as a shipping empire but now the name was global. If Giovanni had sold pieces as exquisite as this one, then Matteo could see how it might have transpired. Yet, how could a young man from Sicily come to be in possession of this?
Giovanni was less than forthcoming, though, when Matteo pushed for answers.
‘I just want you to find it for me,’ Giovanni said. ‘I don’t know where to start. I sold it to a man named Roche some sixty years ago. Since then it’s been sold on.’ Matteo could see that his grandfather was getting distressed and knew that this necklace really meant something to him.
‘How did you come to own this?’ he asked again.
‘Don’t ask me how I came by them, for an old man must have his secrets...’ Giovanni said and Matteo gave another half smile.
Now the tale of old made a bit more sense.
‘Matteo, I want that necklace. Whatever it takes. Can you find it and bring it to me?’
He looked over to his grandfather.
How he wished he could open up and tell the old man that he meant something to him, that he understood how hard the years had been on him. But Matteo was incapable of giving anyone more than a loan of that smile or body. His mind was a closed door.
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