Chapter Sixteen
Men. You can’t live without them, but sometimes it’s tempting to try.
Ten million dollars? Marcello stared into the judge’s eyes as his mind raced for a way out. “That’s more money than I have sitting in bank accounts.”
He could sell stock and have the money in a matter of a few days, but that wasn’t the point. He had to stop the blackmailing.
The judge lifted his hands. “You’ll be sitting in jail until you come up with the funds. It’ll be up to you how long you’ll be our guest.”
He needed to talk to Gina. If she’d seen the bruises when they’d been kids, maybe others would testify for him too. But the judge and his father had a lot of power over the villagers. Gina would have to work quietly. He’d have never thought he’d have help from someone like Gina after all these years. She was still his way out.
“I’d need access to a phone to organize the money transfer with my financial person to send to my father’s account.”
His father finally spoke. “One call. And we’re going to be right here listening. Have the money sent to the factory account, so it looks like a business transaction. And sign this.” His father slipped a contract in front of him. “It states that you’re buying a portion of the business with your money.”
Marcello quickly scanned the document. It also said he’d be responsible for his portion of the debt among other legal terms he didn’t understand. “I’d need my lawyer to look this over. Would a smaller amount of money with a larger payment in a few months work while she looks at this?”
The judge laughed. “Do we look like fools? You’ll sign the paper and send the full amount. And then the charges will be dropped. No negotiation.”
“How can I be sure the charges will really be dropped?”
His father laid a pen on top of the paperwork. “You’ll just have to trust us. Now sign so I can get back to work.”
He regretted not telling Rachel the truth more now than ever. She’d know how to help Gina line up witnesses and help him know how to placate his father until she could expose him. Rachel’s clients hired her to protect them against unfamiliar and unfair foreign trade laws. She’d be able to understand and at least pretend to negotiate with his father to buy them some time. He’d been an idiot not to accept her help.
But would Rachel help him now after what he’d done to her? And would Gina be able to help, or would she risk too much of her own well-being because she had to still live in the corrupt town? If he only had one call, who should it be to? He refused to pay his father another dime.
What if Rachel told him to go straight to hell? He couldn’t blame her for it. But then would he go straight to jail?
Rachel hung up the phone after speaking to Wilma and let out a blue stream of curses. She was glad her kids weren’t old enough to understand. “I’m going to kill Marcello. That is if we can find him before he does something stupid.”
Trent and Ally exchanged wide-eyed glances. Trent was the braver of the two and asked, “What’s going on?”
“Wilma told me that Marcello’s father has been blackmailing him for the past year. Marcello worried about exposing me and the kids to such an abusive man, so he’s been fighting this on his own. Ally, have you heard back from Deek? Better yet, we need to go to his house. We need to see if we can figure out who that woman was with Marcello.”
Ally asked. “What would Marcello be blackmailed for?”
Rachel shook her head. “I can’t tell you that part yet. But trust me, Marcello is innocent. And we need to help him prove it. Wilma thinks Marcello’s father has had him arrested. Where was Marcello that Saturday you picked him up? After the press conference, he said he had a meeting with someone.”
“The Beverly Hills Hotel. Dave took whoever he met with to the airport.”
“Perfect. That means the blackmailing might have happened on American soil. You call Dave and get a description of his passenger. Then I’ll call the LA police. They might be able to help us verify that Lorenzo Bianchi was in the country, staying at that hotel, and on that plane heading for home.”
Trent smiled. “I think you ladies have this under control, so I’m going to go to work.” He gave Rachel a kiss on the cheek. “Love is worth fighting for. And forgiveness for male pride and stupidity is a virtue.”
Rachel grunted. “I’m going to be his lawyer for now. The forgiving part is still up in the air.”
“Maybe keep in mind that abused children have intense fears that those fortunate enough to grow up safe and loved don’t understand. Call me later and let me know how this all turns out.”
Trent had a point. Right or wrong, Marcello probably believed he was doing the right thing. But his methods sucked. “Thanks, Trent.”
She saw him out and then thought of another ten things she had to do, but first she needed to ask her mom to babysit, and then she and Ally would go to Deek’s house and start digging for answers. She’d call the cops in LA, and hopefully, between the police and Deek, they’d figure out where Marcello was.
Two hours later, at Deek and Lori’s house, Rachel disconnected her call and closed her eyes. Things were falling into place. But they weren’t moving nearly fast enough for her.
She walked into Deek’s study, where he and Ally were busy doing their magic on his computers. She’d been so upset when they’d arrived earlier that she hadn’t noticed his T-shirt. This one read: Irony—the opposite of Wrinkly. It made her smile.
“How’s it going, guys?”
Deek looked up and grinned. “Ally has some skills. I’m going to steal her away from you and put her to work for me.”
“Not happening. At least not until she finishes college. We called first dibs.” Deek had been recruited to work for the government right out of college because his skills were off-the-charts good. Maybe Ally would have some similar opportunities too.
Ally said, “Thanks, Rachel. So, we think we’ve figured out the area where Lorenzo’s email came from. And we’ve gotten into Marcello’s phone records. What Wilma said is all true. We see the texts to prove it. It’s too bad Marcello disconnected his phone, or we could have tracked his exact location. We’re still trying to find any public records of Marcello’s arrest in that area, but we’re coming up short.”
Rachel flopped into a chair in front of Deek’s space-station-like console. “The police in LA are looking into things too, but it’ll take time before they can confirm what we already know because of Wilma. We have to let them do things by the book, though, so his father doesn’t get off on a technicality.”
Deek nodded. “Ally and I have looked at Marcello’s bank records. They show regular and increasing amounts deposited into Marcello’s father’s account. The police will see that too eventually. It helps that Ally had all the account passwords, though.”
“While we know Marcello would never willingly give money to the father he detests, it still doesn’t prove blackmail.” Rachel huffed out a breath. “I’m not sure what our next move is.” Rachel’s phone vibrated with a call. She glanced at the screen but didn’t recognize the caller. “Hello?”
“Hello, Ms. Wilson. It’s Marcello Romano. I’m sorry to contact you on your personal number, but I need for you to make a quiet money transfer please.”
She sat up so quickly, she nearly tumbled out of the chair. She drew a deep breath to let him have it, but then stopped. Had he dialed a wrong number, or was he under duress, and she was supposed to know that because he used the wrong name?
It wasn’t hard to put frost in her tone. “Hello, Mr. Romano. How much and into which account?”
Marcello let out a puff of air, as if he’d been holding his breath. “I’ll email you the account details. And I’ll need ten million. How long do you think that will take?” A muffled cough in the background confirmed he was on a speaker phone. Deek’s and Ally’s fingers started flying across keyboards, hopefully tracing the call from her cell records.
“Checking. One moment.” How would she know how long it’d take for that much money? Wait. T-shirt-wearing Deek was almost as rich as Marcello. She hit the mute button and asked, “How long would it take you to put together ten million dollars?”
Deek tilted his head. “A week to ten days minimum. And that’s assuming I’d be able to pull the money from various portfolios in a timely manner.”
She repeated exactly what Deek had said to Marcello.
There was a short pause before he said, “That’s too long. I have a business deal that needs immediate attention. Can you go to the bank and secure the funds for me?”
Business deal? She wasn’t sure what to say, so she took a stab in the dark. “Something we can use for collateral in the short term to obtain a loan?”
“Yes. I can send along the contract that I’ve signed and some financial paperwork for the company. But, Ms. Wilson, you need to remind the bank how much they don’t want to lose my business.”
Ah. Now she got it. He was being forced to sign something, most likely. “I will. But I don’t recognize the number you’re calling from. So, I’m sorry, but company policy dictates that I’ll have to ask you two security questions.”
“Of course.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “I should have told you from the beginning that my cell isn’t working in Italy. I’m arranging to buy a factory in my hometown.”
Okay. He was in his hometown. Now she just had to quickly think of a question to find out where that was. “First, I’ll need the pin number that allows me to access the funds.”
“Six seven nine two.”
“Great.” She hoped her question had sounded official enough to ask the next. “Then the name of you high school?” They didn’t call it high school in Italy, but Marcello would know that.
He didn’t hesitate. “San Michele.”
“Very good. I can proceed as soon as I receive the contract and account information.”
“I’ll send it to your private email account shortly. Do I have your assurance that you will handle this matter with utmost discretion? I don’t want Stella or the others to get wind of this and start snooping. This purchase needs to stay under the radar.”
Stella? Radar? Was he telling her not to go to the press? Or just the opposite? “I’ll handle this myself, of course. What number shall I phone to confirm when the transfers are made?”
There was a silence on the other end for a few moments before Marcello said, “Please reply to the same email I’ll be sending with the account information.” He cleared his throat and the charming Marcello voice said, “It was very nice to speak with you as always, Ms. Wilson.”
She couldn’t help her grunt. She was still furious with him. “I’ll get back in touch shortly.” She almost hung up but stopped. She’d still help him because he was her client, but she needed to know. “Give my regards to your new girlfriend.”
“You mean my fiancée, Rachel. I’d be very happy to do that.”
Her throat tightened. “Yes. I’ll be in touch. Goodbye.”
After she hung up the phone, she dropped her head into her hands. So the other woman hadn’t been a girlfriend. And he’d done just as Wilma had said. Tried to protect her and the kids and handle it alone. Wilma had mentioned that he carried a deep shame about something he’d never been able to let go of and would never want Rachel to know. He feared she’d think less of him, and he couldn’t bear that.
Whatever it was, he hadn’t cheated. And his problem was bigger than he was, and out of his control. So, she needed to put aside her trust issues and help the man she knew in her heart was a good one. A man who deserved her trust no matter what. She wouldn’t forget that again.
She lifted her head and found both Deek and Ally staring at her. “Sorry.” She cleared the emotion from her throat. “Well, there’s likely our blackmail proof, and it’s going to be sent right to my inbox. Marcello finally pulled his head out and figured he needs legal help to make the blackmail stop.”
Ally smiled weakly. “But you’re still going to help him, right? Not wait for the police to figure this all out. Even though you’re mad?”
“Of course. So, we’ll go to Italy and make some noise. Have you guys figured out where his hometown is yet?”
“Almost there.” Deek held up a finger. “Got it. Ally will you confirm with the high school name?”
“Already on it. Um, there’s two with that name and one similar with a longer name, but two are in the wrong location. We found him!” Ally threw up her arms in a double fist pump. “Let me call Marcello’s pilot and have him come pick us up. We can land in Florence and then drive about an hour north.” She looked up from the computer with a pathetically adorable begging face that would make the puppies proud. “Assuming I’m invited to come along and help?”
Rachel laughed. “Yes. You can come. I’ll ask Lori and my parents to watch the kids. They wouldn’t do well being hauled across the ocean and then all over Italy to chase down their idiot father.”
“Yes!” Another fist bump split the air. “So what’s next?”
Rachel dialed the cop in LA she’d been working with. “We get a little help from the police, and then we ask Stella to get the press involved. No one wants to see their favorite movie star being mistreated by the authorities. And I’ll win my own Oscar for the pathetic, scared girlfriend I’m going to show the press to compel them to help us.”
Marcello lay on the hard bed in his cell at the police station the next morning after his phone call to Rachel. He’d never been more tired in his life, but he hadn’t slept all night. All the thoughts racing through his mind wouldn’t let him rest.
The last time he’d been in the same cell, he’d been sixteen, covered in cuts and bruises and scared to death. But until his aunt had come to save him, he’d been strangely relieved that he’d be safely away from his father for a very long time.
He’d been so afraid of his father that he’d refused to go with his aunt at first, until she’d told him that his mother would never be the same, and that his father would never stop hurting him unless he left Italy for good. What would have become of him if it hadn’t been for his brave aunt?
Hopefully, he’d get out of Italy once again, but this time, he’d make arrangements to take his aunt and his mother with him. Whether his aunt liked it or not. And he’d never return. But his freedom was going to require help from more than just a relative this time.
Thankfully, Rachel hadn’t given him away on the phone. And had caught on to what he needed. She’d made it clear by her flat tone that he was in trouble with her, but she’d help him now if she could. It was that big heart she always tried to hide that would no doubt compel her to do the right thing.
But would she ever forgive him?
He threw his arm over his face and groaned. Things had happened so fast after Gina had shown up on his set. On top of the voice mail from Ally saying his father had contacted Rachel, he’d lost it and just seen red. The thought of his father being in the same state, much less the same room, as Rachel and his kids was too much. That switch inside he tried so hard to control flipped.
Why hadn’t he trusted Rachel? While he’d been so set on protecting her and their children, he had gone and done the one thing she feared the most: left her just like her father had done to her as a child. He needed to find the right words to make her understand. Hopefully, he hadn’t scarred her so deeply she’d never be able to forgive him.
“Need you to come with me, Mr. Romano,” the guard he didn’t care for called out.
His stomach dropped. What now? The judge said he’d be released only when the money was in his account. That was never going to happen, but it was too soon for the judge to know that.
He stood and turned his back so the guard could handcuff him. With metal digging into his wrists, the guard grabbed his arm and tugged him out to the hallway and then guided him into a small room. The man pointed to a chair. “Sit.”
He complied, and then the guard left and slammed the door closed behind him. He had no idea how much time had passed as he sat on the hard chair with his hands behind his back, staring at the white walls, before the door opened again. It was Gina.
He smiled and said, “It’s nice to see a friendly face.”
She shook her head slightly, took his handcuffs off, and then sat down. Stone-faced, she opened a folder. “Mr. Romano, I need to confirm that you were given a chance to contact your lawyer, and that you refused. Instead, you made a personal call. If so, I need you to sign this paper.” She closed the folder and laid a pen on top before she slid it forward.
When he opened the folder, on top of an official document was a handwritten note: Keep the file cover open so the camera that’s recording us can’t see the papers inside. When I contacted the lawyer and he said you never called, I knew something was wrong. Pretend you don’t understand something in the paperwork, then close the folder and slide it back.
He cleared his throat. “I’m not sure what some of these legal terms mean. I can’t sign this.” He slid the folder back.
“It’s just standard boilerplate. Let me translate the words in English for you.” She wrote on the notepaper, and then slid it back.
Do you want me to contact someone?
He studied the page again. She’d already translated the words on the document that said he’d waved his rights before she’d sat down. “Ah, yes. That helped.” He wrote Rachel’s cell number on the scrap of paper, and then signed his name on the document. He didn’t want to risk any unnecessary pen strokes and get caught. Gina and Rachel together were his only chance to ever get out of jail. He handed the pen over and then slid the folder back.
Gina scooped it up and tucked it under her arm. “Thank you, Mr. Romano.” She got up and cuffed him again, although not nearly as tightly as the other guy had.
She knocked on the door, and it immediately opened. She left, and the guard took his arm and marched him back to his cell. The slamming of the iron bars and echo of the lock turning in the sparse cell should have been as irritating as fingernails on a chalkboard. Instead, for the first time in twenty years, he dared to hope his father would finally end up where he belonged. Behind bars for the rest of his pathetic life.