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Rather him than her.

Her best bet now was to never lay eyes on Vito again.

But the thought made her chest ache.

…

“I still think this is a mistake.”

Vito glanced up as his lawyer spoke. He’d talked to Carlos on the way over here. The lawyer had told Vito to back off, not see the man in person, to let the law take its course. But he knew this was the quickest way to find out just how involved Gabby had been.

And he needed to know.

The sense of betrayal had struck him right in the heart.

He had no clue at that point who she really was, but one thing he was sure of—she was not, and never had been, his fantasy bride.

A fabrication.

More to the point, she was a fabrication brought into being by Luciano Scarlesi. He still couldn’t believe it—or that he hadn’t immediately recognized the other man last night. He’d been a huge annoyance over the year since Vito had taken over his grandfather’s legacy. Scarlesi had attempted to bring down the company at every turn. For a short while, until it had been proved an accident, he’d even considered that Scarlesi might have been behind the sinking of the cruise ship.

Once or twice, Vito had been tempted to go see the man, to tell him to get a fucking grip and put the half-a-century old feud behind him.

But to send Gabby in to spy on him…?

At that moment, the double doors opened, and a young woman walked out. “You can go in now, Mr. D’Ascensio.”

Carlos stepped forward. “Come on, Vito, let’s get this done.”

As he stepped through the doors into the office, he tried to clear his head. He needed to be sharp here. He knew Luca Scarlesi by reputation, and the man was supposed to be brilliant, if a little unorthodox, in business.

He was standing at the far side of the office, staring out at the city below, hands shoved in his pocket.

Beside him, Carlos cleared his throat. Carlos had been a friend of his grandfather, and had been Vito’s closest mentor through this last year. He was a tough old man, and his advice had always been to go head-to-head with the Scarlesis. It was the one piece of advice that Vito had ignored.

Luca Scarlesi turned around. His Italian blood was clear in his olive skin, dark eyes, and black hair. His face was clean of expression as he glanced between the two of them.

“You have five minutes. What is it you want?”

Carlos stepped forward—Vito had agreed that he would be the one to do the talking. “What is your relationship with Gabrielle Harper?”

He raised a brow. “None of your fucking business. Next?”

Bastard.

“Did you employ Gabrielle Harper to supply you with information regarding my client?”

“No.”

Did Vito believe him? Hell, no. The man had a mocking smile on his face now, and Vito had to fight back the urge to punch him. He’d never in his life resorted to physical violence, but the need built up inside him, and he had to ball his fists at his side.

Luca strolled across the room and perched on the edge of his desk, arms folded across his chest. “Look, why don’t I save us some time?”

Great fucking idea.

“Go ahead,” Carlos said.

“I’ll tell you one thing and one thing only. Gabby gave me zero information about your client, or his business. Nothing. So leave her the fuck alone.”