“Oh, no. She cried for days after you were gone. She only got to hold you the one time. She wanted to fight for you, but she was too weak. It was a difficult pregnancy. She had no strength left to battle Vittorio.”
“I don’t understand why my father took me in without trying to come back here and get Isabella, too,” Christina said. “Didn’t he wonder why she’d sent him her baby?”
“There was a letter that went with you. Isabella was forced to write it, denouncing anything she had ever felt for your father and asking him never to tell you the truth of your birth. She said that she was ashamed of herself for betraying her husband and her other children. I don’t know how your father felt about the letter, but by the time he came here to see her, it was too late.”
“What happened to her?” Christina asked, needing to know the rest. “How did she die?”
“Isabella never recovered from the pregnancy,” Maria said, her old eyes sad as she gazed at Christina. “She never recovered from losing you. She got weaker and weaker. Influenza struck. She couldn’t fight it. Not even for her boys. She loved her boys, too. But Vittorio wouldn’t let her see them. He kept them here in the city and made her stay in the country. He said he didn’t want them to get sick. Without her children she had no heart left. She had been banished from her life. She was so alone, so filled with grief. I think she just gave up.” Maria paused, her lips trembling as she said, “Vittorio buried her eight months after you were born.”
Christina blinked back a sudden well of tears and drew in a shaky breath. “So if my father hadn’t waited so long to see Isabella, he might have saved her life.”
“I don’t know if anyone could have saved her,” Maria said. “I know I tried. I told her over and over again that she had to get well so that she could see you again, see her boys. She would perk up for a while, but then lose faith. She had always been a fragile girl, weak, thin, kind, soft like a little hummingbird. That’s how I think of Isabella. She was always happy here in her garden, rarely anywhere else, except perhaps the library, where she met your father.”
“If she hadn’t inherited the diamond, they never would have met,” Christina murmured. “It brought her the wrong kind of love.”
“It was wrong because she was married,” Maria said. “But Isabella was happy that summer. Perhaps that was all she was meant to have.”
“And what about Vittorio?” J.T. asked. “What curse has he suffered since he took the diamond?”
“Many tragedies. Some years ago he was injured in a riding accident, and it was many months before he could walk. He still suffers a limp. Later he lost a great deal of money and his business holdings suffered. Six months ago his son Frances was killed in a car accident. Four months ago Vittorio was diagnosed with cancer.”
“All things that could have just happened,” J.T. said pragmatically, “curse or no curse.”
“Vittorio said the same thing, but in his heart he started to wonder and to believe that his only chance of beating the cancer was to get rid of the diamond. I told Vittorio he should give you the diamond before it killed him.”
“You told him to give it to me?” Christina echoed.
“You are Isabella’s daughter. It was the right thing to do.”
“But you know that he didn’t give it to me. He simply sent it to my auction house and asked me to wear it. Apparently he thought that alone would relieve the curse.”
Maria nodded. “I didn’t understand his intention until after he had sent the entire collection to San Francisco.”
“He didn’t want me to have the diamond,” Christina said. “He just wanted me to save him from the curse and then sell the stone for him. He ends up curse-free with millions of dollars in his pocket. Sounds like quite the plan,” she said bitterly, feeling a surge of anger toward the man who had quite possibly changed the entire course of her life. “I want to see him. I want to speak to Vittorio.”
Maria immediately shook her head, fear flashing through her eyes. “No, you can’t. He’s ill. I can’t allow you to upset him. He would be so angry that I told you. I am an old woman. I can’t find another job, another place to live. My daughter works here, too. I only told you the story because I loved your mother so much, and I know she would have wanted you to understand the truth of your birth. She would have wanted me to tell you about her.”
Christina could see the difficult position Maria was in, but still…“Maria. Vittorio practically killed my mother, and he kept me from her. I was her child. I had a right to be with her, to know her. He played God. No one has the right to do that.”
“Your father did the same thing,” she argued.
“Well, I want to talk to him, too.” Christina glanced over at J.T. “What do you think?”
“That you should speak to Vittorio,” he said, meeting her gaze. “But don’t implicate Maria. Your father could have told you all of this. Vittorio doesn’t need to know where your information came from.”
“Yes, my father could have told me,” she realized. Why hadn’t he? Why all the secrecy? Was it really a matter of his respecting her mother’s wishes? Why wouldn’t he have questioned the letter? Surely, if he knew Isabella was unhappy enough to have an affair, he would have suspected the note had been written under duress?
“Vittorio cannot tell you any more about the diamond,” Maria argued. “I have told you everything.”
“I need to see him.” Christina thought about what she’d just said and realized it wasn’t completely true. “Actually, I need him to see me—the child he made his wife give away.”
Maria met her gaze, and there was compassion in her eyes. “I understand.”
“What about my…my half brothers?” Christina asked. “I know Stefano is sailing somewhere. What about Daniel?”
“He went to Rome several days ago. He won’t be back until next week.”
“Do they know about me?” Christina asked. “Will I be destroying their vision of their mother if I show up?”
“Probably. They don’t know about you or about their mother’s relationship with your father. The boys grew up to be like their father—cold, distant. They could have used their mother’s touch.”
“Well, since they’re not here, I’ll think about what I want to tell them later.” She rose to her feet. “I want to see Vittorio now.”
“Do you want me to come with you?” J.T. asked.
“I really do,” she admitted. “I know it would probably be better for me to do it alone, but I could use your support. I don’t think he’ll be happy to see me.”
J.T. got up and gave her a reassuring smile. “I’ll be right by your side. If you want me to kick his ass, just say the word.”
“Thanks, but I just want to talk to him right now. I’ll save the ass kicking for later.” She turned to Maria. “Thank you—for everything. I know you took a risk. I appreciate it so much.”
The older woman nodded as she stood up. “I will take you to see Vittorio.”
Christina’s nerves tightened as they walked upstairs. She wanted to see Vittorio, and yet she was afraid. After hearing what he had done to her mother, Vittorio had grown to monstrous proportions in her mind. What would she say to him? Would she able to say anything at all? Or would he intimidate her as he had intimidated her mother?
She was still uncertain when J.T. paused in the hall outside Vittorio’s room.
“Let me make this easier on you, Maria,” he said. “Try to stop me from going in. You understand?”
“Yes.”
J.T. pushed open the door to Vittorio’s bedroom, saying, “Don’t try to stop me. I want to see him now.”
“Please, signore, you cannot go in there,” Maria begged.
Christina followed J.T. into the large bedroom. Vittorio sat in an armchair, reading a newspaper. The paper fell from his hand when he saw her. His gaze narrowed and his thick brows drew together in one tight line. The blood drained from his face as recognition set in.
“I think it’s time we met,” Christina said, finding her voice and her courage. She walked over to him, stopping just a few feet from his chair. It helped that he was sitting. She felt bigger, stronger. “I’m Christina Alberti—your wife’s daughter. Remember me?”
Vittorio didn’t reply. He simply stared at her, his gaze as cold as ice. He shifted in his chair, reached for a cane resting against the table, and slowly rose. Standing, he towered above her by a good foot, and despite the fact that his illness had robbed him of his vigor, he was still a man who commanded respect simply by the way he held his head. He looked at her for so long she found herself willing him to say something—anything. The silence was killing her.
“What do you want?” he asked finally.
She had to think for a moment. What did she want from this man?
“Why did you do it?” she asked. “Why did you rip me out of the arms of my mother and send me away?”
“Because you weren’t mine.” His gaze was direct, his words unapologetic. “You were a bastard child, the symbol of her betrayal.”
His words cut her to the quick, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her pain. “You killed her, didn’t you? You destroyed her with your cold, heartless act.”
“She destroyed me and my family,” he said, fury steeling his voice. “She was the sinner, not I. Now leave my house.”
“In a second. I’m not finished yet. You sent me the diamond to curse me, didn’t you? It wasn’t that you thought I could get rid of the curse. You wanted to brand me with it.”
“It did not matter to me either way,” he said with a shrug. “Until your father stole it. If it takes my last breath, I will make sure he is thrown into jail. He robbed me of Isabella. He will not run away with that diamond. Now that I know he has it, I will send every police officer in Florence to search for him.”
Goose bumps shivered over Christina’s skin. Vittorio was a powerful man in Florence. He could probably back up his threat. But she still had one card left to play. “If you do that, I will tell everyone the truth about you, my mother, my father, and myself.”
“I could have you thrown into jail as well,” Vittorio countered. “The police in San Francisco believe you and your father worked together. I had a long talk with them this morning.” He glanced over at J.T. “I believe you’re wanted as well.”
“J.T. didn’t have anything to do with the theft of the diamond,” Christina said quickly. “And neither did I. But if you want to have me arrested, fine. I can still tell my story, and I will tell it. In fact, if I’m in jail, I’ll get even more press. By the time I’m finished, everyone in Florence will know the true story of my mother and my father and you. Or…” She paused deliberately, giving her threat a chance to sink in. “Or my father can return the diamond and you can drop the charges.”
“You dare to blackmail me?” he asked incredulously. “Do you know who I am?”
“I know exactly who you are and what you have to protect.”
He stared back at her, measuring the sincerity of her words. She didn’t flinch, didn’t look away. Her mother might not have been able to stand up to Vittorio, but Christina could, and she would.
“You have two days to get me the diamond,” Vittorio said slowly.
She turned and left the room without replying, but she was shaking when she reached the hallway. She let out a breath of relief as J.T. pulled the door shut behind him.
He smiled at her. “You all right?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t know where that all came from. I just couldn’t stand there and let him threaten me and my father.”
“I think you did your mother proud.”
“Yeah, well, there’s only one small problem. We have to get the diamond back in the next two days.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do,” he said confidently.
“Yes,” she agreed, “because my father has a lot to answer for as well. I want to ask him the same questions I asked Vittorio. Neither of them had a right to keep me from my mother.”
“No, they didn’t. But I have to admit I can’t see you growing up in this cold, dark house,” J.T. said as they made their way down the stairs. “It doesn’t suit you.”
“I don’t think it suited my mother either. She didn’t belong here.”
“She came willingly,” J.T. reminded her.
“It sounded like her parents didn’t give her much choice. But I know what you’re getting at. She was married. She did have an affair. She wasn’t honorable. Apparently she was in love. Maybe the diamond is cursed.”
“Well, curse or not, we still need to find it in the next two days.”
“I think we should check the house where my father stays when he’s here in Florence. Maria can give us the address. Maybe he’ll even be there. Although that would probably be too easy.”
“Definitely too easy. But let’s make that our next stop. If the house is in your family name, it would be a good place for Evan to target as well.”
At the mention of Evan, she glanced at J.T. and saw new shadows of worry in his eyes. “It bothers you a little that he hasn’t shown his face again, doesn’t it?”
“Yes. I’ve gotten used to his frequent taunts. The silence is unnerving.”
“No news is supposed to be good news, isn’t it?”
“Not where Evan is concerned.”
“We’ll find him. Or he’ll find us.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m concerned about,” J.T. said grimly. “You’re very distracted, Christina. You need to keep your mind now on your father and Evan. The stuff with your mother you’ll have to sort out later. I know that’s a lot to ask, but it’s important.”
“I know. I understand. Believe me, there is nothing I want more than to find both Evan and my father and put all this behind us.”
18
Evan watched the jeweler study the diamond under his gem scope. Giorgio was the best in the business, according to the Florence underground network of thieves. Italy might not be the States, but Evan knew how to work the underground in any country. The right amount of money, the appropriate threat, and any information could be had.
“Well?” he prodded impatiently.
“It is a brilliant copy,” the man said slowly. He lifted his shrewd gaze to meet Evan’s. “Perfection, but still a copy. You already knew that.”
“Yes. And you’re the man who made it.”
Georgio shrugged his shoulders, but he looked at the stone as if he’d given birth to it. The pride of ownership was clearly evident in his eyes. “I am just a simple jeweler. This would require the work of an artist, a master of his craft.”
“I don’t need the artist,” Evan said. “I need the man who hired him. Marcus Alberti. I’m betting you can help me find him.”
“That information could be costly,” Georgio replied.
“Not sharing it could be even costlier,” Evan returned. “The real diamond is missing. A lot of people are looking for it. Some of them will eventually end up here. Some of those people will have badges, arrest warrants.”
“It is not a crime to copy a jewel,” the man returned.
Evan took out his wallet and laid several bills on the counter. The man’s eyes lit up. Greed was such a beautiful thing.
“He has a house in the hills, but I don’t think he’s there,” the man said.
“He’s not. I’ve already been there. I want you to give him a message from me.”
“I don’t know where he is.”
“You’d better find him then,” Evan said purposefully.
“Signore, please, I am not involved in anything.”
“You copied the diamond. That means you’re involved.” Evan made a quick movement, taking the jeweler by surprise as he grabbed him by the neck and pushed him up against the wall. Georgio’s eyes bulged in fear. “Tell Marcus if he wants to see his daughter alive, he should meet me tonight at St. Anne’s, the bell tower. I’ll be waiting.”
Georgio gasped as Evan let go of his throat. “What if I can’t find him?”
“Then I’ll be back here to see you. The thing about people like you, Georgio, who work in the back alleys, who take money from thieves, is that no one cares when you disappear. No one cares if you end up dead.”
Georgio swallowed hard. “I will try to locate him.”
“You do that.” Evan adjusted his coat and walked out of the door with a jaunty smile.
J.T. was eager to find Marcus’s house. After leaving the Benedettis’, they’d rented a car, picked up a map, and were on their way to the farmhouse where Marcus stayed when he was in town. Now that Christina had dealt with the issues involving her mother, J.T. hoped they could concentrate on finding her father. He had to admit he was proud of how she had handled herself with Vittorio. She had faced down that ruthless old man and not even flinched. Yesterday she had been knocked off her feet, but today she was on fire. He’d never known a woman who could roll with the punches the way Christina did. She had a core of steel underneath that beautiful softness.
Christina consulted the map as he drove out of the city. When they left the busy streets behind, he relaxed and pushed his foot down hard on the gas pedal. Despite his efforts, the car still labored through the foothills. “I think we could walk faster,” he grumbled, casting a quick look at Christina.
She simply smiled. “We’ll get there. I feel like we’re on the right track now.”
“It’s just not the
fast
track.”
“I know. You’ve been very patient, letting me come to terms with my mother and the relationship between my father and the Benedettis. I appreciate it more than I can say. At least we know more about the diamond and the curse.”
“We just need to find your father, or figure out where he has taken the diamond.” J.T. thought about everything they had learned. “According to Maria’s story, you’re the one who should have the diamond after your mother. Is your father just holding it for you? Stashing it somewhere until enough time has passed?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. He told me he was worried about the curse affecting me. It’s possible that he knows more about the stone now than Maria knew when she heard the story. I’m sure he’s researched the diamond all the way back to Catherine de Médici, and perhaps before that. Many large diamonds were originally part of religious and historical pieces such as crosses, swords, and crowns…” She paused. “He must have had a sketch that allowed him to have the diamond copied. There could even be another story we haven’t heard yet.”
“Great, just what we need, another story,” he said dryly.
“A little too much history for you?” she asked, flashing him a smile.
“I’m more interested in the people who are living now than those who have been dead for several hundred years.”
“I think you’re on the wrong case then.”
“No, I’m on the right case,” he said, glancing over at her, “because Evan wants the diamond. And I want Evan. That’s all that matters to me.”
He saw a shadow flit through her eyes and regretted his choice of words.
“I understand,” she said.
“Christina—I didn’t mean it that way.”
“I know what you meant. I know that putting Evan away is the most important thing to you.”
“It is important,” he conceded, “but—”
“I think we should try to trace the painter and his descendants,” she interrupted, changing the subject. “He might provide a clue. And I would like to find out if the fresco he painted with Catherine’s picture in it still exists somewhere. Maybe the information will be at my father’s house. He couldn’t have everything on him. He had to leave his research somewhere, and it wasn’t at his house in San Francisco.”
“Christina—” J.T. began, still feeling that he needed to say something, but not sure exactly what.
“Let’s concentrate on what we need to do next, J.T. Okay? I can’t handle anything more personal right now.”
He glanced over at her, but she had turned her gaze on the passing scenery and all he could see was her profile. He didn’t know why he wasn’t happy about the fact that she was giving him an out of what would be a complicated conversation. For some odd reason it disturbed him that she didn’t want to talk about it, that he couldn’t read what was going on in her head.
“This place is beautiful,” Christina murmured, gesturing toward the rolling green hills. “It feels so far away from San Francisco and Barclay’s. I wonder what Alexis and Jeremy think now? I wonder if there’s a warrant out for my arrest, maybe extradition papers? I don’t even know how that works.”
“Don’t worry about it,” J.T. advised. “You didn’t steal the diamond, and there’s no proof that you did. At worst you could be considered an accomplice, but your father is the main suspect. Once we find him, we’ll be able to clear your name.”
“But not his,” she said, turning back to him. “I don’t want to put my father in jail, J.T., and I feel that every step I’m taking is heading right to that end. I hope you’ll give me a chance to convince him to give the diamond back to Vittorio.”
“Even if he does give it back, he still stole it. That’s a crime.”
“Well, there has to be a way around it. You can help me think of a way, can’t you?” she asked with a plea in her eyes. “You’re a smart guy. You know the law.”
“Let’s find him first; then we’ll worry about how to keep him out of jail.”
“You’re right. I do know down deep that at some point he has to pay for what he’s done. I can’t go on living as I was, pretending not to see him for who he is, worrying about when he’ll show up next, what he’s doing, what new trouble might be coming into my life. I’m tired of his secrets and his lies. I can’t go back to that, no matter what happens.” She paused. “I’m just afraid. It’s hard to let go completely. He’s all I have.”
“It seems to me you’re acquiring more family by the minute.”
“I don’t think I can tell Vittorio’s sons,” she added, giving him a questioning look. “Can I? Would it be fair to them?”
“I can’t answer that, Christina.”
“If they don’t know about me, if they think their mother was loyal to their father throughout their marriage, what right do I have to take that away from them? It would just hurt them. There’s nothing to gain.”
“Half brothers; that’s what you have to gain,” he reminded her. “More family.”
“The cost could be huge. They could hate me. They could hate their mother, my father. It could get even messier. I’ll have to think about it.” She glanced down at the map. “That’s the turnoff.”
J.T. turned right on to a narrow, roughly paved road that wound through an olive grove and a line of cypress trees, ending in front of an ill-kept two-story stone cottage. The grass needed weeding, and an empty fountain with crumbling masonry stood in the front yard.
Christina was out of the car the second he turned off the engine. He followed her up to the solid front door of the house, appreciating her eagerness, but also wary of what they might find.
“I rang the bell,” she said. “It doesn’t look like anyone is here. No cars around. I don’t see a garage.”
She was right. There weren’t even any other houses close by. It was quiet on this hillside, save for the song of a few nearby birds. The city of Florence was off to the left. He could see the tops of some of the tallest churches and buildings. In the city there was a hectic, busy atmosphere, but here on this hill it was peaceful. He wondered how long it would last. They certainly hadn’t had much quiet the last few days.
“Let’s try some windows.” He moved systematically around the house, finding one of the back windows unlocked. With a few jolts he managed to push it open. He helped Christina through the opening and then went back to the front of the house. She opened the door for him a moment later.
J.T. walked into the living room, noting the exposed wood beams in the ceiling, the terra-cotta floors, and the large rock fireplace. The furniture was old but appeared comfortable, with big pillows on the sofas and chairs. There were colorful throw rugs on the floor, newspapers on the coffee table, and even a used coffee mug. He picked it up and saw a trace of liquid still in the bottom. “Someone was here not long ago.”
“Probably Dad.” Christina paused in front of some photographs on top of the mantel. “These are my grandparents and my father when he was a child. They died before I was born, long before my dad met Isabella. And this must be my great-grandfather,” she added, pointing to a photo of a dark-haired man with a pencil-thin mustache. “There’s so much of my family history in this house. I guess I know now why my father never brought me here. It was too close to the Benedettis’.”
“And he didn’t want you to find this.” J.T. picked up a framed photograph on a side table. He held it against his chest, not sure Christina was ready for it.
“It’s them, isn’t it?” she asked. “Together.”
He nodded and slowly turned the picture around.
She stepped closer. Her hand shook as she took the picture from him. She stared down at the photo of her mother and father, arms around each other, smiling for the camera. She wondered who had taken the shot. It would mean that someone else had known about them—probably Maria. “They look happy,” she murmured, blinking back tears.
J.T. smiled and shook his head. “The romantic in you is back. What happened to the girl who was all fired up about her mother being an adulteress and her father a liar and a cheat?”
“Every daughter wants to know her parents cared about each other. I can still see the big picture. I can,” she added defensively.
“Good. Why don’t you check the upstairs bedrooms? I’ll look around down here. We need to pick up the pace. Time is passing.”
“I got it. Back to work.”
As Christina climbed the stairs, J.T moved down the hall, stepping into a downstairs bedroom. It was obviously a guest room, containing nothing but a bed, a dresser, and a side table with a lamp on it. A thin layer of dust covered the floor and the furniture. It didn’t appear as if anyone had been there in a while. Next up was a bathroom, then a small kitchen that led into the backyard. He opened the cupboards and the refrigerator, not surprised to see some food items. Marcus had been living here, maybe as recently as this morning. They were getting close, but not close enough.
Another door was located on the other side of the refrigerator. Opening it, he saw stairs leading down into a dark basement, where he could make out the shadow of a washer and dryer. There could be papers down there, but the room felt cold and damp. Still, he should check it out. Who knew where Marcus would hide information?
He had one foot on the top stair when he heard Christina come into the kitchen. “Did you find anything?” he asked, searching for a light switch.
“You,” a man said.
J.T. whirled around just as Evan swung a shovel at his head. He fended off the first blow with his hand, smashing his fist into Evan’s face. He felt a jolt of satisfaction when he saw the blood gush from Evan’s nose. But his satisfaction was short-lived as Evan brought the shovel back around and, with a grunt of anger, nailed J.T. on the side of the head.
Stars spun before his eyes. He felt his legs crumple as a searing pain shot from his temple to the back of his skull. He had to stay on his feet. He had to protect Christina. He tried to grab the stair railing, but missed and tumbled down the stairs, feeling the force of each painful step. He tried to call out, to warn Christina, but the blinding pain in his head sent him screaming toward a tunnel of darkness.
Christina was on her own. God help her.
One large bedroom connected to a bath on the second floor. The queen-sized bed was unmade, the blankets tangled. Had her father spent the night here? Christina wondered, her senses overcome by the faint lingering scent of the spicy cologne she always associated with her dad. She moved into the adjacent bathroom. A wet towel hung on the rack. Soap, shaving lotion, a razor, and the cologne were on the countertop, more evidence that her father had been here. Where was he now? And was he coming back soon? She wondered if they should wait here for him to return. But what if he didn’t? What if he had moved on again?