The Autumn Of The Witch

Stephanie looked up. ‘I’m glad you’ve told me,’ she said. ‘It was kind of you to try and help us …’

Pietro’s eyes darkened. ‘Not your father, Stephanie – you! And it was not kind at all.’ His hand closed over hers as it lay on the table. ‘My reasons for wanting my position made clear concern you and me. I do not want you to hate me, not when I find you so disturbingly attractive. Do you understand?’ His eyes burned into hers passionately.

Stephanie felt horrified. She had not thought, she had not dreamed that Pietro might imagine there was more to this assignation than a desire to help her father. She tried in vain to tug her hand away from his, but his hold was unyielding and he leaned towards her urgently.

‘Pietro!’ she exclaimed. ‘I appreciate what you’ve tried to do for us – for me, but this – this is impossible! I – I – you’re making a terrible mistake—’

‘I would agree with you, signorina!’

The harsh accented tones almost startled Stephanie out of her seat and Pietro released her hand abruptly to rise and face the grim angry countenance of the man he had told her was his brother-in-law …

CHAPTER THREE (#u0ca0f4e6-3632-5273-87f6-d5a705816f8a)

SANTINO VENTURA stood beside their table looking darkly vengeful and the epitome of male arrogance aroused to dangerous intensity. Stephanie, weak and trembling from the shock of this sudden confrontation, wondered how he had known where to find them and how long he had been standing there behind their table, listening. She felt she ought to say something, but before Ventura’s blazing rage she stood no chance of a hearing. No more did Pietro. His employer was lashing him with his tongue, speaking to him in low yet violent tones, and as it was in their own language, Stephanie could not follow what was being said. Pietro tried to interject a word here and there, spreading his hands in typical continental appeal for reason, but to no avail, and he knew it.

Stephanie stood up. She felt that this was an opportune moment for her to make her escape. Surely neither of these men would notice her departure. But she was mistaken. As she lifted her evening bag and gathered her cape about her shoulders, a lean brown hand shot out and caught her forearm before she could move away. The hard grip of those fingers bit into her arm cruelly and she winced in pain.

‘You will stay, signorina!’ commanded the low, compelling tones of Santino Ventura.

Stephanie felt her breast rising and falling in uneven haste, and she tried desperately to regain her composure.

‘Will you please let go of my arm, Signor Ventura?’ she requested in a jerky little voice. ‘I am not part of your organization and you cannot intimidate me!’

‘Can I not?’ Santino Ventura’s brilliantly smouldering gaze turned in her direction for a moment before flickering back contemptuously to Pietro. ‘Do you think you are unique, signorina? That you possess some especial powers which make you immune from dominance?’ He turned back to her scornfully. ‘Believe me, Signorina McMaster, you are just as vulnerable as Pietro, your so-gallant champion, and twice as irresponsible!’

Stephanie stared at him tremulously. ‘What do you mean?’

Santino Ventura’s lip curled. ‘I wonder what your father would say to learn that his so-loyal daughter has kept a secret assignation with my assistant.’

Stephanie gasped. ‘My reasons for accepting Pietro’s invitation were not personal ones—’

‘No?’ Santino Ventura half smiled, but it was without amusement. ‘And who will believe that statement? Your father? Your stepmother, perhaps?’

‘Do you intend to tell them?’ Stephanie’s voice shook a little.

Santino Ventura shrugged indolently and released her wrist. ‘I will think about it,’ he conceded grimly.

‘Ma che, diamine, Santino—’ Pietro began desperately, only to be silenced by a look from his employer.

‘Come,’ went on the other man, ‘let us sit down again. We have matters to discuss.’

Without waiting for their reactions, Santino drew out a chair, swung it round and straddled it with casual ease. Then he beckoned the wine waiter and as Stephanie and Pietro reluctantly took their seats he ordered some champagne. The waiter bowed low. If he had been deferential to Pietro he practically genuflected before his master. A few moments later a bottle of champagne appeared in a bucket of ice and the waiter extracted the cork with care and poured some into the wine glass he had set before Santino Ventura. Santino tasted it experimentally and then nodded abruptly and the waiter filled all three glasses, his hands visibly trembling as he did so.

‘Is all right, padrone?’ he inquired at the finish, and Santino looked up and nodded.

‘Bene, Luigi. Tell me; your mother – she is well?’

‘Oh, si, padrone, she is fine,’ exclaimed Luigi, nodding his head vigorously. ‘She would be most honoured if you were to pay her a visit while you are here, padrone.’

Santino smiled. ‘Some other time, Luigi,’ he said, and Luigi nodded again and withdrew, bowing ceremoniously.

Stephanie, who had watched this interchange with only transitory interest, felt a shiver of apprehension slide along her spine as Santino’s attention reverted to herself. There was an indomitable air about him that defied analysis, and she realized as she had done in the library that here was a man who would never forget or be forgotten.

‘So, signorina,’ he said. ‘You thought to influence me through Pietro, is that it?’

Stephanie saw no point in trying to deny it and she moved her shoulders indifferently. Santino drew out a case of cigars and placed one between his teeth. When it was lit and the smoke exhaled aromatically into the air above her head, he said:

‘Why does it trouble you so that your father may be put out of business?’

‘That’s a ridiculous question,’ Stephanie snapped angrily, angry with herself for putting herself in this impossible situation. She was no match for this man and she knew it.

‘Is it? Why? Other men – I may say, stronger men – than your father have succumbed to my organization. Besides, had he not been so foolhardy, the merger would presently be taking place.’

Stephanie pressed the palms of her hands together. ‘My – my father did not want a merger. He wanted a chance to raise money – to put the company back on its feet. He knows that if he allows you to merge with W.A.A. sooner or later the shifting of authority will begin and he will become nothing but a figurehead.’

Santino shook his head slowly. ‘And is that so terrible? Does your father wish to work all his life? Surely most men look forward to their retirement. He is not a young man, signorina.’

‘I know that. But you don’t know my father as I do. Retirement – in his circumstances – would kill him!’

Santino put his cigar between his teeth. ‘What are these special circumstances?’

Stephanie moved her shoulders helplessly. ‘My father has a wife, signor, and she is much younger than he is—’

‘I know that.’ Santino was abrupt.

‘Then surely you can see that there could be difficulties—’

Santino frowned. ‘Your stepmother is an extravagant woman, signorina. Is that what you are trying to say?’

Stephanie flushed. ‘Jennifer doesn’t care about the company—’

‘But the deal I have offered her is more than acceptable.’

Stephanie’s eyes clouded. ‘I know that. She has already taunted my father with your offer.’

Santino sighed now. ‘It would seem that your father’s troubles stem from a more personal relationship than merely W.A.A.—’ He chewed his lower lip. ‘I cannot be held responsible for the vagaries of his wife.’

Stephanie clenched her fists. ‘I expected you to say that.’

Santino’s eyes narrowed. ‘Then you were not disappointed, were you, signorina?’ He snapped his fingers impatiently. ‘I am not a marriage guidance counsellor, I manage a syndicate of companies who rely on me to make the right decisions. Sentiment is no part of my make-up, signorina.’

‘Obviously.’ Stephanie’s nails bit into the palms of her hands.

Santino studied the glowing tip of his cigar. ‘So now we return to the reason why you are here this evening. You were hoping perhaps to persuade Pietro to intercede on your father’s behalf, si?’

Stephanie made no reply, but her silence was enough and he went on: ‘It seems to me that your inclinations were not very strong, signorina. From the way you were pleading with him to let you go when I so rudely interrupted you, I did not think you intended to allow your good intentions to lead you into difficulties.’

Stephanie flushed. ‘I don’t have to sit here and listen to your derision, signor—’ She half rose to her feet.