One Summer at The Villa. Rebecca Winters

into the pit of her stomach over this conversation she couldn’t say. “Why would I want to do that? It’s my business, not yours.”

      “It could be my business.”

      She gaped at him. “How is this possible? You aren’t Monteverdian, and you mean nothing to me—just as I mean nothing to you.”

      “I’m hurt,” he said. “And after all we’ve been to each other.”

      Antonella set down her empty glass and leaned back again. “I don’t want to play these games with you, Cristiano. I’m tired, I’m sore, and I just want to go home.”

      “But you were on a mission here. A mission you failed. Surely you aren’t ready to give up so easily?”

      Her heart thundered in her ears. Cristiano leaned over and poured more wine into her glass. She picked it up, only half aware of what she was doing. Sipped.

       You failed.

      “I’m sure you are mistaken. Yes, we wanted Vega Steel to invest in Monteverde.” She shrugged. “We have a lot of ore, and it seemed quite natural. It would have been a good partnership. But there will be others.”

      “I think not,” he said, one corner of his mouth curving in a knowing smirk.

      Had she really felt sorry for him just a few minutes ago? It seemed impossible, incongruous with the man speaking to her now. This Cristiano elicited no sympathy in her soul.

      “I think this was Monteverde’s last chance,” he continued.

      The world threatened to cease spinning. “Last chance? You are deluded, Your Highness. This is only Monterossan wishful thinking.”

      “You can still save Monteverde, Principessa.”

      “You aren’t listening to me. Monteverde doesn’t need saving.”

      He leaned forward, eyes intense. “We both know it does. And I will give you a chance to do so.”

      Antonella ran her finger along the top of the glass to steady herself. Was he fishing for information? Or did he know the truth? She had to know if he was simply making wild guesses, or if he truly had a plan.

      “If what you say were true—and I am not saying it is—what are you proposing? Will you tell Raúl you’ve changed your mind? That he should invest in Monteverde instead?”

      “Monterosso will buy your ore.”

      In spite of the heat in the room, a chill washed over her. “We don’t need to sell you our ore, Cristiano. We can sell it to anyone we choose.”

      “Except no one else wants it. Vega Steel will build in Monterosso, and while we have ore deposits of our own, yours are bigger. Between our mines, and the incentives I offered Raúl on behalf of the kingdom, Vega Steel can import materials from Europe or South America just as easily. We do not need your ore, but I am offering to buy it.”

      “You will build guns and tanks,” she said.

      He shook his head. “Vega Steel builds ships, Antonella. Ships, girders, and industrial products.”

      “They will build what you want them to build.”

      “It does not work that way. Raúl has contracts to fulfill. And Monterosso is not a dictatorship.”

      “Neither is Monteverde.”

      He frowned. “You know that is not true.”

      “My father is no longer King, Cristiano. Monteverde is not a dictatorship.”

      “Nevertheless.” He poured more wine into his own glass. “You can save your country, Antonella. You have only to sell me the ore.”

      Her pulse was tripping into the danger zone. Her stomach threatened to upend everything she’d just put into it. She was trapped in this tiny room with him, and he was pressing her hard to admit truths she couldn’t.

      “The ore is not mine to sell, even if I were inclined to do so.”

      “The veins are on state property. Your brother is the King. It is in your ability to do this.”

      Was he insane? How did he expect her to talk Dante into such a thing, assuming she would ever agree it was for the best? It would be hard enough to convince him to seek help from Montebianco. But from Monterosso? Unthinkable. “I believe you are mistaken, Cristiano. Monteverde does not need to sell her ore to you.”

      His sneer was not encouraging. “Stop prevaricating, Antonella. We both know the truth. Monteverde is falling apart, and you have loans due that you cannot repay. Without this deal, you will fall into ruin.”

      “Then why not simply wait for it to happen? Monterosso can pick up the pieces,” she said bitterly. “You will finally achieve all your aims.”

      “Stability,” he said softly. “If Monteverde falls, there will be greater troubles in the region than you can imagine. Our enemies would pick Monteverde apart, and use the fragmentation to destabilize markets across the three nations. The war could spread with the chaos such events would inspire. I will not let this happen.”

      “If stability is so important, then why not loan us the money to make the payments?”

      “What is in this for Monterosso? Nothing, except money we would never see repaid.” He shook his head. “The ore, Antonella. It is the only way.”

      “What you say is impossible. Dante will never agree to it.”

      His gaze was sharp, as if he were scenting the air for weakness. She was very afraid he’d found it in her reaction. “He would if you convinced him it would work.”

      “It’s impossible,” she repeated. “Even if you are correct, we cannot trust you. If we sold you the ore, we’d have no guarantees you wouldn’t turn against us. You seek to claim Monteverde for your own.”

      His eyes glittered in the candlelight. A smile curled the corners of his mouth. Her breath caught. Why did he have to be so handsome? And so dangerous at the same time?

      “You can trust me, Antonella. I would never turn against my own wife.”

       Chapter Eight

      HER pretty pink mouth dropped open. Cristiano had to force himself not to lean forward and close it for her with a kiss.

      “You cannot be serious!”

      “Why not? It makes sense, does it not?” He leaned back against the wall and gave her a lazy look. He was so close to achieving his goals now. So close he could taste the triumph.

      Her brows drew down as she studied him. It didn’t surprise him she was suspicious. She was far stronger in spirit than he’d given her credit for when he’d first met her. Was it only yesterday? It seemed like weeks rather than hours.

      Another woman would have fallen apart after nearly being crushed to death by a tree. But she’d endured, and she’d expertly taken care of his wound without a moment’s hesitation or squeamishness. He was quickly learning not to be startled by anything she said or did.

      “Which part makes sense, Cristiano?” she asked. “The part about selling you our ore, or the part where you think I could ever agree to marry you?”

      He resisted the urge to scowl.

      “Both. You sell us the ore to guarantee your loans, and I agree to marry you as a show of good faith. You and your brother cannot doubt my sincerity if I pledge to make you a di Savaré.”

      She snorted. Then she shook her head. “I could never do that to our people. They would see it as selling out to our enemies.”

      “Selling out? Or saving your country from a worse fate?”