The Bride of Montefalco. Rebecca Winters

      “But I didn’t know that!”

      “You’re a good liar, I’ll grant you that, but it was a dangerous act of idiocy on your part no matter how greedy you are for money. It’s the one credential you sleazy members of the media carry every time you trespass on sacred ground for a story. You have no decency or thought for the precariousness of the situation. None of your kind has a conscience.”

      He folded his arms, eyeing her with chilling menace.

      “As you’re going to find out, I don’t have one, either. So you can start talking now, or look forward to being incarcerated here indefinitely.”

      Her mouth had gone dry. “You’re going to be sorry you’re treating me like this,” she warned him with a mutinous expression. “When Mr. Montefalco finds out I’m here anxious to talk to him, you’ll be lucky if it’s only your job you lose.”

      His black eyes felt like lasers, scanning beneath the surface for any abnormalities.

      “Who sent you to do their dirty work?” he rapped out as if she hadn’t spoken. “Tell me now and I’ll use my influence with the judge to get you off with a light sentence.”

      A pulse throbbed at the corner of his hard jaw. He was in deadly earnest. That made the situation so much worse for Ally.

      She spread her hands. “Look—there’s been a huge misunderstanding here. If you think my passport and driver’s license are doctored, then look at my airline tickets again. It proves I just flew here from Portland, with a stopover in Switzerland to see where my husband’s accident happened.”

      His gaze searched hers relentlessly. “You call that proof when you could have flown from Italy to Oregon on your tabloid’s money to begin your impersonation? You’re wasting my time.”

      He pressed a button above the door, no doubt sending a signal that he was ready to leave. This was a nightmare!

      “No—don’t go yet—” she begged as the door swung outward.

      He paused in the aperture, almost filling it with his tall, powerful body.

      “Please—” she beseeched him. “There’s someone you could call who will vouch for me. His name is L—”

      She broke off talking because she suddenly realized she didn’t want him to talk to Lieutenant Davis. She would be too embarrassed for the detective to know she’d flown here to satisfy her curiosity about Donata. It was a private matter she’d rather no one else knew about. Until she talked to Mr. Montefalco, it was absolutely crucial her activities and whereabouts remain a secret to everyone including her mother. Ally’s mom thought she was spending the weekend with friends from the orchestra. If she knew the truth, there would have been a battle Ally couldn’t have handled.

      “Yes?” her adversary mocked again. “You were saying?”

      He stood still as a tree trunk. By now she was so beside herself she felt light-headed. Her ears started to buzz.

      Out of self-preservation she sank down on the end of the cot and lowered her head so she wouldn’t faint.

      “Anything you’d like to confess before lights out, signora?” he asked without an ounce of concern or compassion.

      His voice sounded far away. Ally had to wait until the worst of her weakness had passed before she could talk.

      By then, he’d gone…

      Vaguely disturbed by the woman’s insistence that she really was the wife of Donata’s last lover, Gino sped faster than was prudent through the dark streets toward his family home at the top of the mount. He wanted total privacy before searching the woman’s suitcase. En route he phoned Carlo.

      “Thank you for helping me carry out my plan. The suspect is in her cell, but I realize we won’t be able to hold her for long. I asked the desk sergeant to run her passport through the scanner for verification, then report to you. Do me a favor and let me know what he finds out. When we’ve learned it’s counterfeit, I’ll expose her in my own way so she never gets another job. I’m sick of the media.”

      Once they’d hung up, he used his remote to enter the estate.

      After slipping in a private side entrance to the palazzo with his prisoner’s luggage, he entered Marcello’s study and set it on one of the damask couches.

      Upon opening it, he was surprised to see how lightly she traveled. The interior was redolent of her flowery scent. There were only a few changes of outfits and feminine underclothing, all modest and for the most part American brands.

      Frowning because he couldn’t find a camera or film, in fact nothing that sent up a red flag, his hands dug deeper.

      “What’s this?”

      He felt something solid, wrapped in a towel.

      “I knew it!” he whispered fiercely as he pulled out a silver laptop.

      No wonder she’d wanted to hold on to her luggage.

      He carried it over to the desk and plugged it into the wall adaptor.

      “You and your paper are about to be exposed. Believe me, signora, you’re going to pay—”

      He turned it on, then sat down in the leather chair and waited to see what flashed on the screen.

      He was ready to seize on anything that linked her to one of the tabloids.

      Her home page popped up. He immediately clicked on her favorite pictures icon. Before long he came face-to-face with photos of Donata.

      Gino let out a curse. He counted thirty pictures showing his sister-in-law in various stages of dress and undress. The outdoor pictures had been taken in Prague. He recognized the landmarks.

      How in the hell had that impossibly green-eyed imposter gotten hold of these?

      Donata, Donata.

      He gritted his teeth. If these were to make it onto the streets… If Sofia were ever to see them…

      He felt his gut twist in reaction.

      There was only one reason why the champagne-blonde with the voluptuous curves locked up in the cell hadn’t gone public with them yet. Perhaps she’d decided to approach Marcello first to extort more money from him than her paper would pay out.

      Sick to the depth of his being because he knew these photos were only the tip of the iceberg, he packed up the laptop, closed her suitcase and carried both out to the truck he kept on the estate.

      Leaving by a hidden road that came out on a side street, he headed for the jail.

      Later at the farmhouse when he had the luxury of time, he’d delve into the e-mails and other secrets of the computer’s hard drive. Until then, Gino would break her down until she was grist.

      He wanted the name of the tabloid she worked for, how many more photos existed and the length of time she’d been on Donata’s trail in order to obtain those particular photos.

      Ally heard the door open. When she saw a tall dark figure coming toward her before it closed again, she let out a bloodcurdling scream and pulled the sheet over her head. “Nightmares, signora?” sounded the devilish voice of her captor. “With the kinds of things you have on your conscience, I can’t say I’m surprised.”

      “Get out!” she shouted into the darkness. “The only person I’ll speak to is a diplomat from the American Embassy. Do you understand me?”

      “I’m afraid you’re going to have a long wait.”

      She heard something scrape against the cement floor. She shivered to realize he’d pulled the chair next to her bed and had sat down.

      “What you’re doing is against the law!”

      He gave a caustic laugh.

      Fear of a sort she’d