‘So now you know—’ Don Vincenzo’s hand shook as he laid his napkin on the table ‘—that I raised a vain, self-absorbed man, who preyed on women simply because he could.’
Nick hitched a shoulder. ‘I guess,’ he said, wishing he couldn’t see the pain in the old man’s eyes.
‘I owe you an apology, Niccolo, on behalf of the Alegria family.’
Nick stiffened. ‘It’s not your job to apologise for what he did.’
‘I was his father, I should have—’
‘And anyway, I don’t need an apology.’ Nick interrupted, hoping like hell to put an end to the conversation. ‘I did okay.’
He hadn’t wanted to like Don Vincenzo. Hadn’t wanted to feel anything for the old man at all. But it was proving next to impossible not to.
He knew what the old guy wanted. Had figured it out yesterday as Don Vincenzo had squired Eva and him round his properties in the picturesque town of Riva del Garda and spoken with pride and hope thickening his voice about the estates and businesses he owned in Tuscany.
Don Vincenzo was looking for someone who would care about the Alegria legacy and the various properties and businesses he had nurtured and watched grow for the last forty years. But more than that, the old man wanted a grandson who would love and respect him, to replace the son who never had.
And Nick simply wasn’t that guy. His life was in San Francisco, where he wrote about the dark underbelly of urban life, because he’d once been a part of it himself. He didn’t know the first thing about managing a business, or the day-to-day running of an ancestral estate. And he didn’t do love and respect either. He didn’t want to be a part of Don Vincenzo’s family, because he hadn’t shared that connection with anyone. Not since he’d been a kid. And look what a staggering success he’d made of that.
‘How can you say that?’ Vincenzo asked dispassionately. ‘When you ran away from home?’
Nick flinched. ‘How do you know about that?’ he asked, but he could already guess. Don Vincenzo was a shrewd businessman, of course he would have had him investigated.
Don Vincenzo bowed his head. ‘When Henry Crenshawe informed me of your name, I endeavoured to find out all I could about you.’ Anger flashed in Vincenzo’s eyes. ‘Why did you run? Did Delisantro reject you after he found out you were not of his blood?’
‘You’ve got it all wrong.’ A shame Nick thought he’d buried years ago lurched back to life. ‘Carmine Delisantro was a good man and a great dad, but when I found out about…’ He paused. Why couldn’t he say Leonardo’s name? ‘I rejected Carmine, not the other way around. So if anyone needs to apologise it’s me.’
‘You were a boy.’ Vincenzo sighed. ‘No child should have to find out what you did. If the man who raised you was as good a man as you say, I’m sure he forgave you.’
‘He did.’ To his horror, Nick felt his voice crack. He stared at his plate, recognising the grinding pain in his stomach for what it was. Guilt.
Carmine Delisantro had forgiven him all right, and he’d carried on loving Nick right up until his dying day. But Nick had been too much of a coward to admit he felt the same. So what did that say about him?
Don Vincenzo’s hand covered the fist Nick had on the table. ‘I will be travelling to Milan tomorrow to change my will. As you know, to my great regret I cannot pass the title to you, because you are not a legitimate heir.’
‘There’s nothing to regret. I don’t want the title.’ Nick’s fingers released and the grinding pain began to dim. Thank goodness, the old guy had finally realised Nick wasn’t cut out to be anyone’s grandson.
‘Very well, then.’ Vincenzo patted the back of his hand and sent him an easy smile. ‘I have a second cousin in Palermo who shall become the sixteenth Duca D’Alegria.’ The man’s lips quirked in a benevolent smile. He gave the ornate dining room a quick survey before his gaze fixed back on Nick. ‘But to you, Niccolo Carmine Delisantro, I shall take great pleasure in leaving the rest of my estate and the Alegria Palazzo.’
‘What?’ Nick’s shoulder muscles spasmed as he leapt out of his chair. ‘Why would you do that? You don’t even know me. I told you I don’t want—’
‘Sit down, Niccolo, and stop panicking.’ To Nick’s astonishment the old man simply laughed, the sound gruff and genuinely amused. ‘My doctors tell me I have a few years yet before you need worry about receiving this gift.’
‘But damn it, I don’t want your gift.’ He slapped his palms on the table, rattling the plates. ‘And I sure as hell don’t deserve it.’ The thought terrified him. Not just the responsibility he would have to maintain the land, to manage the staff and the property and the businesses, but also the connection, the debt he would owe to the man.
Instead of looking appalled, or even annoyed by Nick’s outburst, Vincenzo cocked his head to one side, his oddly penetrating gaze disturbing Nick even more. ‘Why would you think you don’t deserve it?’
‘Forget it,’ Nick replied, the panic starting to choke him. He didn’t have to explain himself to Don Vincenzo or anyone else. He’d made his own life, free of family, free of emotional ties and that was the way he intended to keep it. ‘I don’t want this inheritance. And you can’t make me take it,’ he said, slinging his napkin on the table and turning to leave.
‘We shall talk of this later, when you have calmed down…’
The buzzing in Nick’s head drowned out the rest of Don Vincenzo’s words as he strode across the room, desperate to escape from the misguided hope and affection in the old man’s eyes.
He knew he sounded like an ungrateful kid, the same ungrateful kid who had once thrown everything away that mattered because of pride and temper and stupidity. But so what? The past was gone. He couldn’t go back and change it. Any more than he could change who he had become.
He raised his eyes from the floor and stopped dead at the sight of Eva standing in the doorway, her hands covering her mouth, her blue eyes round with sympathy.
The silk-papered walls of the elegant parlour rushed towards him.