Rebecca Winters - The Bride of Montefalco

“Anything you’d like to confess before lights out, signora?” he asked without an ounce of concern or compassion.

His voice sounded far away. Ally had to wait until the worst of her weakness had passed before she could talk.

By then, he’d gone…

Vaguely disturbed by the woman’s insistence that she really was the wife of Donata’s last lover, Gino sped faster than was prudent through the dark streets toward his family home at the top of the mount. He wanted total privacy before searching the woman’s suitcase. En route he phoned Carlo.

“Thank you for helping me carry out my plan. The suspect is in her cell, but I realize we won’t be able to hold her for long. I asked the desk sergeant to run her passport through the scanner for verification, then report to you. Do me a favor and let me know what he finds out. When we’ve learned it’s counterfeit, I’ll expose her in my own way so she never gets another job. I’m sick of the media.”

Once they’d hung up, he used his remote to enter the estate.

After slipping in a private side entrance to the palazzo with his prisoner’s luggage, he entered Marcello’s study and set it on one of the damask couches.

Upon opening it, he was surprised to see how lightly she traveled. The interior was redolent of her flowery scent. There were only a few changes of outfits and feminine underclothing, all modest and for the most part American brands.

Frowning because he couldn’t find a camera or film, in fact nothing that sent up a red flag, his hands dug deeper.

“What’s this?”

He felt something solid, wrapped in a towel.

“I knew it!” he whispered fiercely as he pulled out a silver laptop.

No wonder she’d wanted to hold on to her luggage.

He carried it over to the desk and plugged it into the wall adaptor.

“You and your paper are about to be exposed. Believe me, signora, you’re going to pay—”

He turned it on, then sat down in the leather chair and waited to see what flashed on the screen.

He was ready to seize on anything that linked her to one of the tabloids.

Her home page popped up. He immediately clicked on her favorite pictures icon. Before long he came face-to-face with photos of Donata.

Gino let out a curse. He counted thirty pictures showing his sister-in-law in various stages of dress and undress. The outdoor pictures had been taken in Prague. He recognized the landmarks.

How in the hell had that impossibly green-eyed imposter gotten hold of these?

Donata, Donata.

He gritted his teeth. If these were to make it onto the streets… If Sofia were ever to see them…

He felt his gut twist in reaction.

There was only one reason why the champagne-blonde with the voluptuous curves locked up in the cell hadn’t gone public with them yet. Perhaps she’d decided to approach Marcello first to extort more money from him than her paper would pay out.

Sick to the depth of his being because he knew these photos were only the tip of the iceberg, he packed up the laptop, closed her suitcase and carried both out to the truck he kept on the estate.

Leaving by a hidden road that came out on a side street, he headed for the jail.

Later at the farmhouse when he had the luxury of time, he’d delve into the e-mails and other secrets of the computer’s hard drive. Until then, Gino would break her down until she was grist.

He wanted the name of the tabloid she worked for, how many more photos existed and the length of time she’d been on Donata’s trail in order to obtain those particular photos.

Ally heard the door open. When she saw a tall dark figure coming toward her before it closed again, she let out a bloodcurdling scream and pulled the sheet over her head. “Nightmares, signora?” sounded the devilish voice of her captor. “With the kinds of things you have on your conscience, I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Get out!” she shouted into the darkness. “The only person I’ll speak to is a diplomat from the American Embassy. Do you understand me?”

“I’m afraid you’re going to have a long wait.”

She heard something scrape against the cement floor. She shivered to realize he’d pulled the chair next to her bed and had sat down.

“What you’re doing is against the law!”

He gave a caustic laugh.

Fear of a sort she’d never known before emboldened her to say the first thing that came into her mind.

“What a tragedy that such a lovely, beautiful town produces monsters like you.”

The rhythm of his breathing changed, letting her know she’d struck a nerve. Good!

“For someone in your kind of trouble,” he began in a frighteningly silky voice, “I’d advise you to stop fantasizing and tell me everything before the chief prosecutor of the region gets here and you’re arraigned before the magistrate.”

She sat up on the cot and pressed herself into the corner of the wall, as far away from him as possible.

“Whether you believe me or not, I’m Mrs. James Parker. So far, all you’ve told me is that I trespassed. But I don’t see how I did that when the guards wouldn’t let me past the gate.”

She heard him shift in the chair.

“If you’re telling the truth, and you really are the hapless wife who was the last person to know what your husband was up to, explain what those pictures are doing in your laptop.”

Pictures? Ally rubbed her bloodshot eyes with her palms. She was so desperately tired, maybe she was dreaming this horror story.

“I asked you a question, signora.”

No—she wasn’t dreaming. He was sitting there next to her, intimidating her by his very presence. All two hundred pounds of him, hard as steel physically and every other way.

“It’s my husband’s laptop. I don’t know anything about any pictures.”

She heard a sharp intake of breath.

“So you carried his laptop with you all the way to Montefalco for no particular reason?”

“I didn’t say that!” she protested. “I told you earlier that I came to have a private talk with Mr. Montefalco and no one else.”

“In order to show him the photographs and extort thousands of dollars in the process.”

Thousands of dollars? What pictures would be worth that kind of money? She took a deep breath, scared of what she might discover.

“If there are pictures, I haven’t seen them.”

At her hotel in St. Mortiz, Ally would have looked inside the laptop, but she hadn’t brought an adaptor to fit in the foreign outlet and figured she would have to wait until she returned to Portland. Part of her knew that was just an excuse. She didn’t want to know.

“I planned to talk to him about things that aren’t your business or anyone else’s.”

After a pause, he said, “You can tell me. I have his ear.”

“Prove it! For all I know you’re just a lowly policeman pretending to be Mr. Montefalco’s bodyguard.”

Suddenly he was on his feet. She could feel his rage as he pushed the chair away. She hid her face behind the sheet even though it was dark in the room.

Still bristling she said, “Now you know how it feels to be told you’re a liar and a sleazy con artist out to cash in on someone’s private tragedy. I repeat.” Her voice throbbed. “I’m not saying another word until I can speak to someone from the Embassy.”

While she waited for his response, the door opened, then slammed shut.

The next thing she knew the light in her cell went on.

She checked her watch, which she’d changed to Italian time on the train. It said 7:30 a.m.

How long were they going to leave her in here before allowing her to freshen up?

In desperation she dragged the chair over to the door so she could push the button he’d pressed earlier.