Barbieri probably kept a detailed dossier on him and his business interests, which was one of the reasons Gio’s security was second to none. Gio certainly kept tabs on the older man, but only as a commercial competitor. He didn’t stoop to spying and certainly had no idea what his family looked like.
That didn’t mean he’d sit back and let Barbieri target him in a dirty tricks campaign.
‘I’m on my way back from Venice. I’ll be there this evening.’ His suite at the hotel was always ready for when he chose to stay in Rome. ‘I want to see this Stella White for myself. But put the word out amongst the staff that I’ll be incognito. I don’t want them referring to me by name.’
If his suspicions were right, it wouldn’t make any difference. Stella Barbieri would already know exactly who he was. She’d have been briefed by her father.
And if she didn’t recognise him? He shook his head. It could mean she was innocent and it was coincidence that she’d chosen to stay in the hotel of her father’s greatest rival.
But Gio didn’t believe in coincidence. When it came to Barbieri, innocence was an impossibility.
Gio watched the woman cross the foyer, pausing as she frowned over her phone.
Itwasher, Stella Barbieri. He’d looked her up online and there was no mistake.
He should be pleased that he was onto Barbieri’s ruse. Yet he felt no satisfaction. The knowledge sat cold and unpalatable in Gio’s belly. Even now, watching her loiter in the lobby, he didn’t want to believe she was Barbieri’s daughter and, it seemed, as deceitful as he.
Because he didn’t want to be dragged back into Barbieri’s orbit?
Or because she had big brown eyes and an air of vulnerability? That had to be an act.
He’d recently moved his headquarters to a building behind the hotel, connected by a glassed walkway. It was the hub of his operations, not only in Italy but across Europe and North America. Was that her target rather than the hotel? Or was it both?
What was her plan? To latch onto one of the hotel employees? Persuade them to part with sensitive information?
Something stirred deep within at the thought of her trying topersuadehis staff to be indiscreet. Obviously she’d target a man. In her white jeans and lemon-yellow shirt she looked summery and attractive. More, she looked…innocent.
Gio’s lips twisted. Innocent!
That had to be an act. Every photo he’d found of her showed her soignée in designer fashion, her hair up, emphasising the elegant line of her slender throat. She favoured ultra-feminine dresses or crisply tailored jackets and skirts, with high heels that drew attention to the seductive lines of her legs.
Stella Barbieri stopped again, this time near a cluster of huge potted plants. She looked the epitome of casual sexiness with her low sandals, high ponytail and glowing natural beauty.
Too deliberately casual?
Adrenaline pumped in his veins, and anger too.
His family had paid an impossibly high price for knowing Alfredo Barbieri. Gio refused to let his family’s nemesis take any more.
It was time to turn the tables. He might have decided not to waste his life pursuing a vendetta. But Barbieri had gone too far, sending her intohisterritory.
Andshe… Soon she’d discover her father wasn’t the only dangerous man in this business.
Gio stepped out from the shadowed area beyond the sweeping staircase, crossing the marble floor towards her. She moved too, head down, focused on her phone.
Then out of nowhere came a flash of bright red hair, a small body hurtling out of the lift towards the bright sunlight beyond the glass entry doors.
Gio lengthened his stride but it was too late. The little boy collided with her, grabbing at her bag as his feet went from under him and he hit the floor.
A second later there was a wail. ‘Mummy! Want my Mummy!’
Gio stepped across a lipstick and other scattered items to hunker next to the child. Stella Barbieri was already there, kneeling by the kid, murmuring soothing words, assuring him she’d find his mummy straight away.
As if sensing Gio’s presence, she turned her head and wide, velvety brown eyes met his.
For a second everything stopped. The kid’s cries. The sound of hurried footsteps across the lobby. Even Gio’s pulse. Time stretched, like elastic pulled almost to breaking point.
Then the illusion shattered. She was his enemy’s daughter and therefore his enemy. Meanwhile the child had frightened himself and needed care.
