A Moment on the Lips

chapter FOURTEEN

JUST to underline his point, Dante distanced himself slightly over the next few days. But then Carenza—who’d thrown herself into work, in the hope that her subconscious would come up with a fix for the situation between her and Dante and she could find a way of proving to him that he wasn’t his father—was digging through the boxes of invoices when she discovered something she really wasn’t happy about. Two phone calls to check certain details made her even less happy.

She really couldn’t discuss this with her grandfather, and Emilio Mancuso was the last person she wanted to know about what she’d just found out until she’d decided what to do. The only person she could really talk to about this was Dante.

It wasn’t one of their mentoring days. But, right now, she really needed his help.

She picked up the phone and dialled his number.

‘Mariella Ricci.’

Oh, no. His phone was through to his secretary—so the chances were, he wasn’t in. ‘Hi, Mariella. It’s Carenza. Can I speak to Dante, please?’

‘Sorry, cara. He’s in meetings all day. Is it something urgent?’

‘It’s OK. It can wait.’

‘You don’t sound so sure.’ Mariella’s voice was gentle.

‘No, it’s fine. Just some things that don’t add up and I wanted his advice.’ On how she was going to deal with this. What to do for the best.

‘Do you have anything you can email over to him?’

‘I could scan in the papers and email them over.’ Putting her suspicions down on paper might help crystallise her thoughts and she’d work out what to do for the best.

‘Do that. He’ll check in with me later, so I’ll make sure he knows about it.’

‘Thank you, Mariella. I appreciate it.’

‘Prego.’

Carenza sighed as she hung up. She was about to start scanning the documents when she realised how big the file would be by the time she’d finished; it’d take ages to download and be a nuisance for Dante. Perhaps she could drop the papers in to his office instead.

And see him.

Ha. How pathetic was she?

All the same, she took colour photocopies of the invoices, numbered them all, and composed a seriously businesslike note. Just so Dante didn’t think this was simply a pathetic excuse to contact him.

#1, Invoice from dairy supplier. Sent me their copy instead of customer copy. Quantity and price both lower than on customer copy. Rang them and pretended to be dippy new secretary. They faxed me more—#2–7. Note the invoice dates and numbers are the same, but the unit costs and quantities are different. Note also who signed them.

Mancuso. And it made her blood boil, the lying, cheating, smarmy …

Ditto invoices from fruit supplier, #8–12.

Her blood pressure went a notch higher.

Nonno pays everything in cash, so the person who signed must be pocketing the difference between what the supplier charges and what we actually pay. Embezzlement? Fraud?

And then came the kicker. What she could actually do about it. If she involved the police, then her grandfather would have to know about it, and the shock of Mancuso’s betrayal could cause him to have more chest pains—a full-blown heart attack, even. Nonno could die. And no way did she want to lose him—she’d already lost more than enough people in her life.

On the other hand, she couldn’t let this carry on unchecked. It was the reason why Tonielli’s was failing—and she owed it to her staff to be fair, to fix this. To make things right.

Maybe Dante would have a bright idea about how she could do it without any risk to her grandfather.

Would really appreciate talking strategies with you. Thanks—CT.

There. Completely businesslike. Signed with her initials. Just as if she weren’t crazily in love with him and wanted to shake him for being so damn stubborn and refusing to listen to her.

But maybe if she could show him that she was learning from him, she could also show him that he could learn from her. That they had a real chance. Maybe.

She printed off the note, put the lot into an envelope, sealed it, and headed over to Dante’s office.

Mariella looked at her and frowned. ‘You’ve got shadows under your eyes and your face is thinner. You haven’t been eating properly. Or sleeping, I’d guess.’

‘I always look like this without foundation. I was busy today and just forgot to put my make-up on,’ Carenza lied.

Mariella sighed. ‘Dante’s in the same state, you know.’

Carenza wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. It showed it was bothering him as much as it bothered her; but she also hated the thought that she was causing him pain. ‘I’m working on it,’ she said, forcing a smile to her face. Just, so far, she wasn’t doing very well. Dante was the only person in her life who had ever said no to her, and she didn’t have a clue how to change that because she’d never had to try before.

‘I don’t know when he’ll get a chance to come back to you,’ Mariella warned. ‘It might not be until tomorrow.’

‘Fair enough.’ Carenza shrugged. ‘I thought it was easier to drop them over than to send an enormous computer file.’

‘Good idea.’

Though Carenza knew that Mariella had guessed: she’d also had a pathetic hope that Dante might just be there. ‘Thanks for your help,’ she said, and bolted. Before she said anything pathetic and needy.

She wasn’t pathetic and needy. And, really, she shouldn’t be leaning on Dante. Did she really need to ask him what to do, when her course of action was obvious? She was going to have to confront Emilio Mancuso with the proof she’d found, and ask him to leave the company.

Dante rubbed his temples. It had been a long, long day. And now he had a few moments before his next meeting. He glanced at his watch. With any luck he’d catch Mariella just before she left for the evening. He speed-dialled his office, and to his relief his secretary answered. ‘Mariella, it’s me. Anything important come up?’

‘Carenza came in.’ Mariella paused. ‘She looked terrible. As if she hasn’t been sleeping. Or eating properly.’

‘I meant business,’ he said, more rudely than he’d intended, but he didn’t need a lecture about Carenza Tonielli right now.

‘It was business. She brought some papers in—some things that she says don’t add up. She wanted you to take a look at them and see what you thought, when you had a moment.’

‘Did she leave a note?’ Oh, now, why had he said something so stupid and needy? It shouldn’t matter whether she’d left a note or not. Or how she’d signed it. He definitely wasn’t going to ask that. Besides, he’d made the right decision for both of them. He’d done the fair thing.

‘Everything’s in a sealed envelope,’ Mariella said.

Which was where he should leave it. But his mouth had other ideas, and he found himself saying, ‘Can you open it and take a quick look?’

When Mariella read him the note, he whistled. No wonder Carenza had been worried. In her shoes, he would’ve wanted a second opinion, too. ‘OK. I’ll give her a call. Thanks.’ He could drop in and see her later tonight, after his last meeting. All he needed to do was check when would be a good time.

But when he dialled Carenza’s office number, he discovered that she wasn’t there; the phone was answered by one of the girls from the shop.

‘Do you know where she is or what time she’s likely to be back?’ Dante asked.

‘I think she’s gone to see Signor Mancuso.’

She’d what? Surely she hadn’t been so hare-brained as to go and tackle the man about his fraudulent activities on her own, without back-up? ‘Thank you. If you could let her know I’ve called,’ he said, keeping his voice as polite and neutral as possible. Then he rang Carenza’s mobile.

No answer.

Carenza never ignored her phone. Ever.

Prickles of unease darted down his spine.

He was supposed to be in a meeting in less than five minutes. An important meeting. Something that would have a huge effect on the franchising.

But no way could he leave Carenza alone in what could well turn into a seriously nasty situation. What the hell had she been thinking? That Mancuso would simply say, ‘OK, so you caught me, I’ll stop now’? It looked as if the man had been systematically taking a cut from Tonielli’s, with nobody to check him; Gino’s accountant was clearly either incompetent or in on the deal. And it was unlikely that Mancuso would take it well when Carenza confronted him with the evidence.

Dante raked a hand through his hair. If he rang Mancuso and she wasn’t there, it would give the man enough warning to help him cover his tracks and lie his way out of it. But if she was there, then why the hell wasn’t she answering her phone? Had Mancuso done something to her? His stomach turned to water at the idea of her being hurt. Carenza. So bright and sweet—and so damn vulnerable.

He had to go and find her. Now. There was no real choice.

His lawyer was waiting for him when he cut the connection on his phone.

‘Vittorio, you’ll have to do this without me,’ he said. ‘That, or get them to postpone—something important’s come up and I have to go.’

‘Rachele’s all right? Your mother? Fiorella?’

Interesting that his lawyer had mentioned his sister first, Dante thought. They’d talk about that, later—but right now Carenza had to come first. ‘They’re fine. Sorry, I don’t have time to explain. I have to go.’

The bike was going to be quicker than a taxi at this time of night. Decision made, he strode into his garage—not caring that he was wearing a business suit, because there wasn’t time to change—jammed his motorcycle helmet on his head, and took off for Mancuso’s office.

This would prove to Dante that she knew what she was doing, Carenza thought. He’d said that she needed to gather her evidence. She had—and from more than one source. And her instincts had been right on the money, too; she had proof now that Mancuso had been at the bottom of this all the way along. And hadn’t Dante said that he’d rather she called with solutions than with problems?

She could do this. Prove her worth as a businesswoman.

It made her angrier and angrier as she reached the shop, but she kept a lid on her temper. Yelling was going to get her nowhere. She had to stay calm and deal with the facts. Show Emilio Mancuso that she knew what he’d done and it was going to have to stop right now.

As she walked into his office Mancuso looked up. ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you at this time of night.’

No, she’d just bet he wasn’t. But she wasn’t going to rise to the bait and protest that she worked longer hours than he did. It wasn’t relevant. ‘We need to talk.’

There was a mocking glint in his eye. ‘Ah, so you realise now that you can’t manage the business?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I can manage, all right. But there’s a problem that needs sorting.’

‘And you’re expecting me to sort it?’

‘Actually,’ she said quietly, ‘you are the problem. I know what you’ve been doing. You’ve been creaming off money through the supplier.’

‘What are you talking about?’

Oh, he was good. A few weeks ago, that wide-eyed look of shock might have fooled her. But she knew how to read figures and spot trends, thanks to Dante’s help. ‘I have proof.’

He sneered at her. ‘You know nothing.’

‘Actually, I do.’ She outlined exactly how he’d done it. ‘And I have the paperwork to prove it.’

Mancuso folded his arms. ‘You’re bluffing, or you would’ve called the police.’

‘I’m not bluffing.’ She took the papers from the box file. ‘It’s all here. Plus the information they helpfully faxed over to me.’ She stared at him unflinchingly. ‘You deserve to be in jail for ripping off someone who trusted you, for putting the jobs of all your colleagues at risk just because of your own greed. But I don’t want Nonno knowing how you betrayed his trust. So here’s the deal. You go now—and you tell Nonno it’s because you want to set up on your own—or I take the files to the police and let them deal with you.’

‘And how do I know you’re going to keep your word on that?’

‘Because Nonno always has, and I’m his granddaughter. And a Tonielli’s word means something.’ She spread her hands. ‘Your choice. Go now, without a fuss, or talk to the police.’

‘You spoiled little bitch.’ He stood up. ‘Who the hell do you think you are, to talk to me like that?’

Dante walked in just as Mancuso’s fists were clenching. ‘Good evening,’ he said coldly.

Both Carenza and Mancuso looked shocked to see him.

‘What are you doing here?’ Carenza asked.

‘I got your message. And, as you didn’t answer your phone, I thought you could do with some back-up.’

‘I’m dealing with this,’ Carenza said stiffly.

‘I know.’ He leaned against the doorframe. ‘As I said, I’m just back-up.’ He gave the older man a warning glance.

‘Thank you.’ She turned to Mancuso. ‘And, to answer your question, who am I? Gino’s granddaughter. His heir. The person who runs this business.’

Mancuso’s lip curled. ‘You weren’t bothered about the business ten years ago.’

‘I was little more than a child, then,’ Carenza defended herself.

‘Or five years ago, when Gino was ill,’ Mancuso said accusingly.

‘If I’d known he was ill,’ she said quietly, ‘I would’ve come straight back, and you know it.’

‘He’s leaned on me for years and years. Even before he was ill. I was there for him when Pietro died and he fell apart—I was the one who kept everything going. Me.’ He stabbed his finger at his chest. ‘I was there for him when he kept insisting that you were going to come home and take over, and it was obvious to everyone else you were too busy having a good time in London. I was there.’ Again he stabbed his finger at his chest. ‘And then you walked in and took over.’

‘Don’t blame me for this. It’s been going on for years. You’ve been creaming off the profits.’

‘Because I worked for them,’ Emilio snarled. ‘I earned them.’

‘No. You stole from someone who trusted you. And that’s wrong.’ She lifted her chin and looked him straight in the eye. ‘Purely because you were there to support my grandfather, and I owe you for that, I’m not going straight to the police. As I said, I’m giving you the chance to leave now, without a fuss. And I suggest you take it.’

‘Leave now?’ He looked shocked.

‘Take your personal things,’ she said. ‘And give me your keys. All of them.’

His fists bunched, and Dante thought he was going to take a swing at Carenza. ‘I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,’ he advised coldly.

‘And you’re going to stop me?’ Mancuso said.

It would be so, so easy for Dante to hit Mancuso, knock out the older man before he could touch Carenza. But that was who he was trying hard not to be. ‘If you want to be in court on charges of assault and bodily harm as well as fraud, go right ahead,’ Dante said. ‘I’m sure the judge will have something to say when he finds out you hit a woman who’s smaller than you and can’t fight back. And so will the jury.’ He shrugged. ‘And if it’s reported in the paper and a copy of it happens to be in the prison where you’re sent … I gather prisoners don’t have a lot of sympathy for men who hit women.’ He certainly didn’t.

‘And I’d testify,’ Carenza said. ‘So it’s your choice.’

Mancuso said nothing, but it was obvious that he knew he was beaten, because he gathered his personal belongings together and handed her the keys. ‘Rot in hell,’ he said savagely as he left, and slammed the door behind him, almost hard enough to shatter the glass.

‘Is that all of them?’ Dante asked when she checked the keys.

‘I think so.’

‘It might be a good idea to get the locks changed, just in case. Does he have keys to the other branches?’

‘They’re all here.’ She bit her lip. ‘I think.’

‘Don’t take the risk. Get the locks changed in all the shops,’ he advised.

She frowned. ‘What, right now?’

‘He’s an ex-employee with a grudge. If he has access to the shops, he could do a lot of damage. Starting with contaminating the ice cream. And if your customers get sick, that’s your reputation gone.’

Her face was ashen as she registered all the possibilities of how Mancuso could damage Tonielli’s.

‘Sit down. I’ll sort it,’ he said softly. He called the locksmith while making coffee, and added several spoons of sugar to her mug.

She took a sip and pulled a face. ‘Dante, I’m sorry, but this is horrible. It’s too sweet.’

‘Drink it,’ he said, ‘because you’ve just had a shock and sugar’s good for shock.’

‘In England, they normally do hot sweet tea.’

‘Trust me, my coffee’s better than my tea,’ he said lightly—and was relieved to see her smile.

The locksmith arrived relatively quickly; Dante waited with her while the locks were changed, then drove her on the bike behind the locksmith to each shop in turn, ending up at the one under her flat.

‘I think you need to tell your grandmother what’s been going on—just in case Mancuso breaks his word and tells your grandfather a pack of lies,’ he said.

‘It’ll devastate her. It’s …’ She sighed. ‘It’s almost as if he tried to worm himself into my father’s place, acted like a son and looked after them. And it should’ve been me doing that, not him.’

‘You’ve done nothing wrong. Don’t blame yourself.’

‘But if I’d been here …’

‘He said he helped when your father was killed. You were six. How could you have possibly taken over from your grandfather back then?’

She sighed. ‘I guess you’re right.’

‘Of course I’m right.’

‘It makes me sick to think about it. He thought he deserved a share of the business—and when Nonno didn’t give it to him, he helped himself.’

‘And your grandfather trusted him with the books, so there was no check on him,’ Dante said.

‘I don’t understand why the accountant didn’t pick it up.’

Dante shrugged. ‘My guess is either he skimped the job, or he was in on it as well.’

‘But that—that’s terrible.’

‘Change your accountant,’ Dante advised. ‘I can give you the name of mine.’ He looked at her. ‘Actually, I don’t trust Mancuso. I’d rather you didn’t stay at your flat tonight.’

‘You think he’d—’ her eyes widened ‘—do something to hurt me?’

‘Probably not,’ Dante said, ‘because it would be all too obvious that he was behind it. He has a motive, because you’ve exposed his fraudulent activities.’

‘But you think he might try something?’

‘I don’t know, Caz. Let’s not take the risk. I have copies of the files; I’ll download the recording I took of the conversation so we both have copies of that, too.’

She blinked. ‘You recorded it?’

‘On my phone, from just as I walked in. It’s another layer of proof. Tonight, I think you should stay with your grandparents.’

She shook her head. ‘If I do that, they’ll worry.’

Dante knew what he should do: offer to let her stay at his. But having her stay with him would be way too dangerous for his peace of mind. He sighed. ‘OK. Here’s the deal. I’ll stay at my mother’s and you can stay at my flat.’

She looked at him. ‘I can’t expect you to put yourself out that much for me.’

He could see the question in her face: and why won’t you stay with me? ‘Caz. I’m trying to be honourable. There’s no way you can stay with me without us ending up in bed together. And that’s not fair to either of us.’

She said nothing, but bit her lip.

Ah, hell. ‘Caz, I don’t want to hurt you. Right now, I admit, I want to wrap my arms round you and tell you that I’ll always protect you. Except …’ His voice sounded as broken as he felt. ‘I can’t protect you against me.’

She sighed. ‘This is your blind spot, Dante. How am I going to make you see that none of it’s true—that you’re denying both of us what we really want?’ She looked him straight in the eye. ‘You’re not your father. If you were, you would’ve piled in just now and beaten Mancuso into a pulp. But you didn’t. You protected me—and you did it all with words. The right way.’

He looked at her. ‘The right way,’ he echoed.

‘You’re not going to turn into your father,’ she said softly. ‘If you keep believing that, you’re letting him ruin your future as well as your past. Think about it.’

Was she right? Had he been wrong, all these years? ‘But I told you, I broke my father’s arm. I pinned Niccolo to a wall and threatened to break every single bone in his body.’

‘And you did it only because you were trying to protect someone who was vulnerable, to stop someone being hurt.’ She paused. ‘The rest of the time … have you ever really been in trouble?’

He thought about it. ‘At school?’ He shook his head. ‘I worked hard. I’ve earned my keep since I was fourteen years old.’ It was the only way to get out of the misery at home.

‘In the holidays?’

‘Your grandfather gave me a job selling ice cream from a kiosk on the seafront.’

‘And then you made a business empire out of nothing.’

‘He gave me good advice.’

‘And you’ve repaid him for that. You have six restaurants. All your staff trust you and rely on you. So tell me, Dante Romano, just how are you like your father apart from possibly a physical resemblance?’

‘I …’ He couldn’t answer.

‘OK. Tell me something else. When you get a setback, what do you do?’

He thought about it. He didn’t just give up. He didn’t start drinking and then smashing things up, hurting people and taking out his frustrations on them, the way his father had. ‘I analyse things. I look at what went wrong, and learn from my mistakes.’

And then it hit him. Maybe it was time he made peace with his past. Time he went after what he really wanted. Time he made the right choice for himself, as well as for everyone else.

‘I love you, Carenza. That’s the other reason why I came here tonight. I wanted to tell you.’

She frowned. ‘Weren’t you in an important meeting?’

She had him there. ‘Yes. But you were more important. I thought you might be in trouble when you didn’t answer your phone, and it scared me spitless.’

Her eyes filled with tears. ‘You said it wasn’t going to work between us. That we had to be strictly business.’ She lifted her chin. ‘And you’re completely wrong.’

‘I know.’

‘You’re not your father.’

‘I know that, too,’ he repeated, keeping his tone mild.

She didn’t seem to have heard his admissions. ‘And let me point out something else: you inherit half your genes from each of your parents. Half your genes are your mum’s. The other half … Well, supposing half of your father was the violent side, and you inherited the non-violent side of him? So then you wouldn’t have any of the violent genes at all.’

He couldn’t help smiling at that. ‘I don’t think genetics works quite like that, Princess.’

She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘Call me an airhead and I’ll make you babble.’

He smiled. This was his Carenza. She’d just faced a tough situation, but she wasn’t going to let it get her down. She was going to find something to smile about. ‘I’m not sure if that’s a threat or a promise.’

‘Both. I think.’ She dragged in a breath. ‘I love you, too, Dante.’

‘We’re both going to have to learn to compromise,’ he warned. ‘But I’ve been thinking about it. This is going to work. And we’re going for a full merger.’

‘Merger?’

‘Uh-huh. Your business and mine. Actually, make that an expansion. We can add in an art gallery. And we’re not living above the shop or the restaurant. We’re getting a proper house.’

‘Merger.’ She blinked, as if she couldn’t quite take it in.

‘Marriage,’ he said.

Her eyes went wide. ‘You want to marry me?’

‘Yes.’

She coughed. ‘You once told me that you were the one who asked the questions. Isn’t that one meant to be a question, not a statement of fact?’

‘I guess so.’ He dropped down onto one knee. ‘Carenza Tonielli, I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?’

‘I have conditions.’

‘Conditions.’ That was definitely the princess talking. He hid a smile. ‘Do they involve high-end designer shoes and wedding dresses?’

She pulled a face at him. ‘Much more serious than that.’

‘Hit me with them.’

‘After Paris. When you said it was for the best that my period started.’ She bit her lip. ‘It wasn’t. Because that’s when I realised that I want babies. Your babies.’

‘A family. Yeah. That works for me, Princess.’ And they were both going to have what they hadn’t had when they grew up. The parent-child bond, in her case, and a happy home without violence, in his. ‘And maybe we can have a dog. I always wanted a dog when I was a kid.’

He didn’t explain why he hadn’t had one, but she clearly guessed, because she stroked his face. ‘You’re not your father,’ she said again. ‘I saw you with Fiorella. You’re putty in her hands. You’d do anything to protect her. And that’s what you’ll be like with our children. And the dog. And me.’

‘Especially you. But do you have any idea how uncomfortable it is, resting on one knee?’

She spread her hands. ‘I’ve never gone down on one knee to propose to anyone, so no.’

He rolled his eyes. ‘Cut to the chase, Princess. Tell me the rest of the conditions.’

‘You’re so impatient.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘That was it. I want your babies.’

‘That’s what I want, too.’ He paused. ‘So do I get an answer to my question?’

‘Yes.’

‘Yes, what?’

She smiled. ‘Yes, Dante, I’ll marry you.’

He whooped, scrambled to his feet, picked her up and whirled her round. And then he sobered. ‘I’ve done this completely the wrong way round. I should’ve asked your grandfather’s permission, first.’

‘He likes you. He’ll say yes, as long as you make me happy.’

He stole a kiss. ‘That’s a definite.’

‘We’ve got an awful lot to talk to my grandparents about tomorrow,’ she said, biting her lip.

‘And not all of it good, I know. It’s going to be hard for them, accepting that they trusted someone who let them down.’ He sat down, settling her on his lap. ‘But we’ll get through it, because we’ll be together.’

‘Always. And that’s my business plan.’

‘Seconded by me. So it’s a deal?’

‘It’s a deal.’

‘Good. And now,’ Dante said, ‘I vote we seal the deal properly. With a kiss.’

She laughed. ‘I thought you’d never ask …’