Beneath the stainless steel table, Benedetto squeezed his hands together. “You have to stay strong. I’m going to fix this.”
“You have always said that,” Carlo’s smile was loaded with grief. “Even as a boy, you were able to see a problem and fix it. Do you remember when that feral cat loped into the lake? You saw it from your bedroom and ran, full pelt, to save it. I have never seen anything so heroic.”
“It was a stupid cat,” Benedetto said, but a smile twitched on his lips. Stupid or not, they’d kept that cat for years, until finally old age had claimed it.
“You have been the greatest gift in my life, Ben. You must forget about me. Forget about this.”
“I’m getting you out of here.”
“You can’t. It’s not possible. That judge will never allow it.” Carlo reached a frail hand across and put it on Ben’s arm. “And even if he did, the men who wanted me here would never let me go.”
Benedetto groaned. “You don’t know that.”
“Son, I got out. I did what no man has ever done. At least, Ithought I did. I left one of the most vicious gangs so that you could live a good life.”
“Your new lawyer is lodging a claim to have you moved from this jail urgently.”
Carlo’s smile was tired. “It will be no different elsewhere. Men who murder little girls are never viewed well in prison. You know that.”
Benedetto’s stomach turned. Anger, rage and hate filled him. “I’m going to fix this.”
He woke from the dream, as he always did, in a cold sweat. He stared at the peeling paint on the ceiling and waited for his heart rate to slow. It took several minutes for his body to calm down and for him to remember where he was.
As soon as it came flooding back to him, he reached first for Kate. Only she wasn’t there. Her side of the bed was cold. He frowned and sat up, then grabbed at his phone. When he swiped it to life, he saw the text message was still loaded.
He paused only long enough to type:Your daughter is lovely … Benedetto Arnaudbefore sending it to Augustine’s cell phone. Once he was certain it had sent, he turned the phone off and stood.
He should have been thrilled, but the dream had filled him with darkness. His father had endured unimaginable treatment in prison and Benedetto had been forced to sit by and wait. For a man who had made a billion-dollar empire from dust alone it had been almost impossible.
“Kate?” He pulled his tuxedo pants on, wondering what clothes were stored in the cupboards. It had been so long since he’d been at the farmhouse that he had no clear recollection of what was there anymore.
The house looked different in the day. He walked slowly down the hallway, taking in the dirt and dust, the peeling paint, the chipped lampshades, the shabby furniture and the general air of disuse.
“Kate?” The kitchen was empty. He frowned as he scanned the lounge, and then the terrace that overlooked the rolling hills of Tuscany. A pebble of unpleasant awareness rolled through him as he took in the view that he’d adored as a child, when life had been simple.
His car was parked out the front, so she couldn’t have gone anywhere.
He thought, with an accelerating pulse, of the lake, and wondered if she’dwondered that way and lost her footing? Worse, were the old bear traps still set?
“Hell,” he muttered, pulling boots onto his feet and moving quickly into the gardens. They were woefully overgrown. The hedges had become walls, towering over him. The roses were struggling under the weight of branches, and they had begun to form a low ceiling from where they’d reached to join together and knotted their verdant limbs.
“Kate!” He stood with his hands on his hips and turned a complete circle, slowly, scanning the gardens for her. There were too many places she could be. If she’d woken early and gone for a walk to explore — which somehow he just knew she would have been tempted to do— she could have fallen into the well, or sprained her ankle on uneven ground, or even wandered onto a country road without realising it and been hit by a car.
The extent of his fear should have surprised him, but he had no time to analyse the finer points of his emotions. He turned around again, and a movement caught his eye. He had to squint, but sure enough, it was a fast moving shape, with a very blonde head.
Kate! On a bicycle? He frowned as she turned off the road and began to ride up the driveway. As she came closer he recognised that it was indeed one of the bikes that had been on the farm forever. He thought it might have belonged to his mother. It was pale green and had a wicker basket in the front. As she rode closer, from a distance of perhaps only a football field away, she lifted a hand in the air and waved at him. She was wearing his white shirt, and she’d cinched his belt around the waist, turning it into a dress. The sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, and her feet were bare. She’d plaited her hair over one shoulder.
He watched her pull up beside him, and by the time she’d arrived he had made sure his face was carefully blanked of emotion. “You were gone,” he said, his words giving nothing away.
“Uh huh.” She flicked the foot brake down and lifted one leg over with ease. “Did you know you have no tea in this place?” She wrapped her arms around his waist as though it were the most natural pose in the world.
“Tea? I do not drink tea.”
She lifted a hand to her chest, feigning pain. “Travesty. A complete oversight.”
The sun had crested over the hills, and Kate appeared to glow like an angel. Despite the hatred he felt for her father and her eyes, he lifted a hand and braced her face. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.” And not just because she had afforded him a chance for the sweetest revenge of his life.
“Shucks. I bet you say that to all the girls you buy at auction,” she said, but her voice shook a little.
