Lucy Gordon - Veretti’s Dark Vengeance

Salvatore had seen her. He gave her a brief bow of recognition and took the first chance to come to her.

‘I’m glad you’re here. Clara showed me your gift, and I wanted to thank you for putting it in Antonio’s name.’

‘Of course I did. After all, he was my husband, even though you don’t see it that way-’

‘Please.’ He held up his hand. ‘Surely we can put that aside for tonight? Let me just tell you that you look beautiful without you reading anything hostile into it.’

He was charming, yet there was also something unreal about this conversation. At their last meeting he’d incited her then refused to make love to her with a cool assurance that was almost an insult. Now he was behaving as though that had never happened and, as before, he was making her veer between opposing moods with alarming speed. One moment it would have been a pleasure to slap his over-confident face. The next, she found herself responding to him.

He leaned close to murmur, ‘You know we’re being watched, don’t you? The whole of Venice knows about us.’

‘But just exactly what do they know?’ she said. ‘Or-more to the point-what do they think they know?’

Salvatore smiled faintly. ‘A nice distinction. I guess you could make them believe anything you wanted. It’s an art you might teach me.’

‘Oh, I think you know a few tricks of your own,’ she teased. ‘And I’m always willing to learn new ones.’

‘Now you’re not being fair,’ he protested. ‘If I said you were up to every trick you’d insist that I’d insulted you.’

‘Of course. And the annoying thing is that if I said it about you it would be a compliment, no matter how insulting I tried to make it.’

‘And you’d try very hard.’

‘Without a doubt.’

They laughed together. In the surrounding crowd heads turned. Knowing looks were exchanged.

‘Clara tells me that you always donate one of the best pieces,’ she said. ‘I’m longing to see it.’

‘Let me show you.’

She gasped when she saw his gift, a large eagle, seemingly coming in to land with wings swept back. It was made of black glass shot through with silver which glittered and winked depending on the angle of the viewer.

‘That’s beautiful,’ she said sincerely.

‘It’s going to have first place among the new collection that will be unveiled soon. I look forward to your own collection with trepidation.’

The new Larezzo collection wasn’t completely finished, but she would never tell him that.

Next to the glorious eagle her horse looked conventional. She must have showed it in her face because he said, ‘There’s always a contest to see whose gift raises the most money for charity. You’ll be an easy winner.’

‘That’s nice of you, but I don’t think so.’

‘I’ll take a bet on it. Franco!’

A plump, prosperous-looking man near-by turned at his call and beamed. When Salvatore had introduced them to each other he said, ‘Franco likes nothing better than a wager. Here’s the deal: I’ll wager that Helena’s piece of Larezzo glassware will attract a higher bid than my eagle.’

‘Name the sum,’ Franco said in delight.

‘Ten thousand euro,’ Salvatore said at once.

The other two gaped at him.

‘I trust my instincts,’ he added. ‘The horse is a very fine piece, as is all Larezzo glass. What about it, Franco?’

‘Done!’ They shook hands.

The action attracted immediate attention and a small crowd gathered around them, all wanting to be in on the action. Franco whipped out a notebook and scribbled down the bets, obviously used to doing exactly this.

‘What are you doing?’ Helena muttered to Salvatore. ‘You could end up paying out a huge fortune.’ Her eyes glinted wickedly. ‘And then how would you buy me out?’

‘But you’re not going to let me buy you out, so it’s academic.’

‘I suppose it is.’

‘Besides which, if I lose a fortune I won’t be able to buy you out, and you’ll feel quite safe.’

Never in a million years, she thought, would she feel safe with this man. But she only smiled and shook her head.

‘I promise you, I already feel quite safe,’ she said. ‘I’m only concerned for you.’

He gave a rich chuckle that was a pleasure to hear.

‘How kind of you to worry about me, but please don’t. I assure you I’ve protected every angle.’

‘I believe you,’ she assured him sweetly. ‘I doubt if I’d believe you about anything else, but if you tell me you’re playing a cunning game, I recognise the truth.’

‘And aren’t you playing a game every bit as cunning?’

‘I certainly hope so,’ she said with mock indignation.

Franco had finished taking bets.

‘Of course,’ he said, ‘it’s understood that neither of you bids for your own item.’

‘That’s agreed,’ Salvatore said.

‘Agreed,’ Helena added.

Somewhere in the background an orchestra struck up for the dance that was to take place before the auction.

‘Dance with me,’ Salvatore said, taking her into his arms.

HELENA knew it was unwise to dance with him, but he’d given her no chance to refuse. His hand was on her waist, drawing her close to his body so that she could feel the movement of his legs against hers through the delicate silk of her dress. Then caution dissolved into enjoyment. They were both excellent dancers, spinning around the floor in perfect accord. Her spirits soared.

When the music ended he raised her hand and kissed it gallantly.

‘It was a real pleasure,’ he said. ‘One I don’t get very often.’

Another partner presented himself, seeking the honour of dancing with her. Salvatore bowed and retreated, leaving the couple to take the floor.

Her new partner was a fine, upstanding young man with a handsome face and easy movements, but now she’d danced with Salvatore it was like drinking tap water after champagne. When it was over she thanked him pleasantly and refused all further requests.

It was time for the auction. Clara claimed everyone’s attention, commended them for attending and made a speech of thanks to the donors. She spoke of the fund-raising which was to provide money for the children’s hospital, ensuring that it had the very best equipment. At the end of her speech-

‘Finally, our two stars of the evening, Signor Salvatore Veretti, owner of Perroni, and Signora Helena Veretti, owner of Larezzo. As you all know, these are the two biggest and most successful glass works in the city. Normally, of course, they are deadly rivals-’

She was interrupted by cheers and applause, as everyone regarded the ‘deadly rivals’ with fascination, causing them to bow and smile, then exchange conspiratorial glances.

‘Guess what they’re thinking,’ Salvatore murmured.

‘Whatever it is, they’re a long way from the truth,’ she murmured back.

‘But tonight,’ Clara continued, ‘for the sake of the charities we support, they have put their rivalry aside. That is-almost aside, for, as you see, they have competed to see who gave the most generous offering.’

She indicated the two glass figures, and there was more applause.

The auction began. One by one the pieces were sold for prices greatly above their true value and the fund rose to satisfying proportions. At last only the two glass figures were left, gleaming gloriously under the floodlights.

‘And now, the moment we’ve all been waiting for,’ Clara declared, stepping aside to indicate them. ‘Which one shall we auction first?’

‘Mine,’ Salvatore said at once. He gave Helena a mischievous look. ‘Let my rival see the price my eagle will realise, and tremble.’

She joined in the laughter, but she was feeling uneasy. Salvatore’s magnificent eagle outshone her horse and everyone knew it. He would have no trouble defeating her.

One part of her said she’d fallen into a trap and he would make a fool of her, yet the other part refused to believe it. Some mysterious instinct told her that this man might be cruel, he was undoubtedly ruthless, but he would not be petty.

He saw her looking at him. ‘Trust me,’ he said, as though he’d read her thoughts perfectly.

The bidding began and mounted fast: quite rightly, Helena thought, but her heart sank as she saw the inevitable moment approaching. She gulped when she heard the final price, forty thousand euro.

Then it was time for the glass horse, and she soon realised that her fears were unfounded. The value of the pieces was almost irrelevant. The crowd was having fun backing them against each other, and as the bids rose and rose they began cheering her on.

But then things slowed down and came to a halt at thirty-five thousand. A groan went up, but it was broken by a voice crying,

‘Fifty thousand euro.’

The cheer grew louder. The bid had come from Salvatore.

‘Fifty-five,’ came a voice from the crowd.

‘Sixty.’ Salvatore topped it at once.

‘Hey, wait,’ Franco said urgently. ‘We had a deal that you weren’t going to do this.’

‘No, the deal was that we wouldn’t bid for our own pieces,’ Salvatore reminded him. ‘There’s nothing to stop me bidding against myself.’

‘But you can’t do that.’

‘Yes he can,’ Helena said through laughter. ‘He can do anything he wants.’

‘I’m glad you realise that,’ Salvatore said softly.

‘Seventy,’ called a voice.

‘Eighty,’ Salvatore said at once.

‘Ninety.’

‘A hundred!’

‘Going, going, gone-for a hundred thousand euros.’

There was frantic applause, but Helena was troubled.

‘This isn’t funny any more,’ she said.

‘You won. You should be delighted.’

‘What about all those people who took bets with you? They’re looking very disgruntled and who can blame them? Why should they pay you when you won by very dubious means?’

‘Thus confirming your opinion of me, which should please you.’