‘Signorina Killane, he accuses you of defaming him in a public place. That is the basis for his claim. He says you made a scurrilous accusation, knowing it was untrue, exposing him to the vilification and obloquy of all who heard you, materially damaging his reputation. You acted, so he maintains, out of malice and spite, ruining his wedding—a wedding upon which a great deal of money had been spent—humiliating him and alienating his bride, with the intention of revenging yourself for his perceived scorning of you following a highly transient sexual liaison of no duration and no emotional or personal significance whatsoever.’
The middle-aged bespectacled man addressing her across his desk steepled his hands, glancing down at the letter Ariana had shakily given to him, full of legal jargon, which he had just read. He shook his head.
‘He is attempting to seek remedy in law,’ he told her soberly.
‘What can I do?’ The words fell fearfully from Ariana’s lips.
Her lawyer pressed his lips together and took a breath. ‘Going to court is expensive, and you would run the risk not only of having to pay the damages he is seeking, but his legal costs as well as your own. I can only recommend attempting to settle with him out of court—as is set out here.’
‘But he is demanding a fortune!’ Ariana closed her eyes. The very air seemed to be choking her, as if it were toxic to breathe. ‘I can’t afford that sum,’ she said. ‘It would financially cripple me. Wipe me out.’
‘Perhaps your grandfather—?’ began her lawyer.
Her eyes flashed open. ‘He’d see me starve in the gutter before he lifted a finger to help me!’
She got to her feet, her body as heavy as lead. ‘I’ll go to see my accountants—see if they can advise anything.’
That was indeed her next port of call, but she came away as dead in the water as she had feared. A loan of that magnitude...? Against her business...? Her accountant had shaken his head dolefully, saying he would do what he could but was not hopeful.
Bitterly, she made her way back to her elegant shop, walked into her office, sat down at her desk. She stared into space. There was a stone inside her. A boulder.
It would all go. Everything she had spent her adult life building up. Everything she had striven for, day after day, taking such pride and satisfaction in the fact that she was, by her own efforts, her own skills, gaining her independence from her grandfather, escaping his hold over her.
She set her face. Took a heavy, painful breath. Well, there was one thing at least she could be glad of. Matt and Mia were together.
After fainting at the wedding, Mia had been whisked off by their grandfather in a state of complete collapse to a private clinic, to recover from her ordeal and the ruination of her intended marriage. Ariana, of course, had been allowed no communication with her at all.
But she had stayed in touch with Matt, and had made over to him a sizeable sum of money that would enable him to launch his music career in London and rent accommodation there for himself and Mia, supporting them both. The next she’d heard Mia had discharged herself from the clinic and headed for London with Matt, planning to marry him the moment she could.
So at least what I did for Mia was worthwhile...
It was the only comfort afforded to her. Now she sat her desk, facing the ruin of everything she’d worked so hard to build for herself. All that was left was to wait for the axe to fall. Wielded by Luca Farnese. His killing blow.
In her head she heard his voice, black with savage fury.‘I will destroy you.’
He would do so, she knew, without mercy or compunction. For what she had done to him.
Luca sat at his desk, an expression of grim satisfaction once more on his face. Now to spring the trap. The trap he’d set by issuing the writ for defamation, to which Ariana had responded in exactly the way he’d anticipated. She wouldn’t risk a court case—she’d settle, just as her lawyer had informed his own.
Now it was time to contact her accountant. The man who was trying to find her a loan of sufficient magnitude to enable her to settle out of court.
Well, he was a magnanimous man—there was a limit to how much justice he would exact on Ariana Killane and what form it would take. He’d been the hard man with her. Now it was time for the softer approach. The generous gesture.
He smiled, picking up his phone. It was not a pleasant smile. Not pleasant at all.
Ariana’s eyes widened.
‘Are yousure?’ she queried.
Her accountant repeated what he’d just told her and her grip on her phone tightened. Could it be true? Had he really found a loan for her?
Fort the first time since that dreadful day of Mia’s abortive wedding, three weeks ago, Ariana felt hope returning. She listened avidly as her accountant ran through the conditions. They were tough, with the interest rate high, the term short, but if she could keep her turnover going, could sustain her profit margins, then, yes, she might—just might—be able to stay in business, get clear of debt eventually, and emerge intact. She’d been warned that the loan was repayable on demand, but why would the lender do that if she made her repayments on schedule? Besides, without this loan she would go under anyway.
But I’ll fight to save myself! Save everything I’ve worked for! I’ll work every hour God sends!
‘So, you are happy for me to proceed and give agreement?’ her accountant was checking now.
‘Yes! Oh, definitely, definitely yes!’ she exclaimed immediately.