An Inheritance of Shame(34)
Lucia wondered if Stefano would think about his mother’s arthritis at all. She’d never met the man, and yet she wondered. Doubted. She felt her cynicism coat her heart like a hardened shell, layers and layers built up over time and weary experience. She’d been cynical about Angelo for so long, almost right from the beginning.
She still remembered when he’d left Sicily, how he’d kissed her cheek and turned away, heading off into his far-off future. She’d been seventeen, utterly in love, and she’d told herself if he looked back just once it meant he’d come back for her. He hadn’t, and remembering now she knew she hadn’t really expected him to. Cynicism coupled with a rather desperate hope—an awful combination. Yet that’s how she’d always been with Angelo, wanting something she was quite sure he didn’t have to give.
That’s how she’d been with him now, when she’d rejected his offer. What if she’d reacted differently? Would Angelo have been able to change? Could they have a chance, if she gave them—him—one?
‘I hope he writes you back this time,’ Lucia said as she finished the letter, and Maria shrugged, lifted her chin.
‘He’s a good boy. And even if he doesn’t write, he’ll always know I love him. That’s what matters.’
Lucia felt her throat go tight. ‘Yes,’ she agreed quietly, ‘that’s what matters.’
From the shock that had blazed across Angelo’s face, she knew he hadn’t ever realised she loved him. She’d loved him for years, decades, and yet he’d never known. She’d never told him before, and when she finally had, it had been in anger and exasperation, just another means to push him away.
Yet she had to push him away—because if she didn’t, he’d surely break her heart.
‘It’s painfully clear that the Corretti empire is falling apart.’ Angelo gazed steadily at each shareholder in turn, watched them fidget and squirm, their uneasy gazes sliding away from his. ‘The Correttis simply aren’t capable any longer, and the world is noticing.’
More squirming. None of the shareholders at this meeting were related to the Correttis, yet they’d always been loyal. Angelo knew he was taking a risk asking them to switch their loyalty to him, a Corretti of a different kind. He’d called this meeting of shareholders of Corretti Designs in Palermo, knowing that Luca was out of the country. He didn’t think it would take too much to nudge the rest of the shareholders into a vote removing Luca as CEO and putting him in his place. They were like dominoes, waiting to fall. And another piece of the Corretti pie would be his. ‘The price of Corretti Designs’ shares have fallen three per cent in the past week alone,’ he continued, knowing that hard facts might sway them more than sly innuendo. ‘And it will continue to fall while the Correttis scramble, mired as they are in their own scandal.’
One of the shareholders, a banker from Milan, met his gaze. ‘What do you propose?’
‘You make me CEO on a trial basis,’ Angelo answered swiftly. ‘If the share prices improve—’
‘The shares have gone down because of the cancelled wedding,’ a sharp-looking woman objected. ‘It’s been all the talk. They’ll bounce back in time.’
‘Scandal usually boosts share prices of glamour industries,’ Angelo replied coolly. ‘Yet Corretti Designs’ shares have fallen.’
He saw the doubt enter the woman’s eyes, felt the mood in the room shift. They might be loyal to Luca Corretti, but all that mattered was the bottom line. ‘Six weeks,’ he said firmly. ‘Give me six weeks and I’ll turn this company around.’ He held each person’s gaze, saw doubts turn into certainties, and triumph surged through him. ‘Shall we call a vote?’
‘Am I interrupting something?’
Angelo stiffened, then turned his head to see Luca Corretti standing in the doorway of the boardroom, his steely gaze arrowing in on him. He smiled and lounged back in his chair. ‘So good of you to join us,’ he drawled, and saw a flicker of something almost like admiration in Luca’s eyes at his sheer audacity.
‘So good of you to invite me,’ Luca answered dryly, and came into the room. Angelo felt an answering flare of respect for a man he knew he should hate. Luca Corretti was his cousin, the second son of Benito, his own father’s brother. He’d lived in a palace, had grown up with every privilege and luxury. Angelo had hated him on principle for most of his life, yet now he couldn’t help but respect the man’s steely authority.