The Truth About De Campo (15 page)

The shorter, slighter man turned and ran. Matteo lunged for him but he was too quick. He fled up the stairs, Matteo in hot pursuit. Through the restaurant, out the doors to the terrace they ran. The photographer must have cased the place and knew exactly where he was headed, because Matteo lost him in the crowd. He stood there, breathing hard, his arms dropping by his sides.
Damn.

He grabbed a security guard. The guard alerted his coworkers and they scoured the grounds. To no avail. The photographer was long gone.

Matteo sought out Raymond Bernard and demanded to see the press credentials. A white-faced Quinn joined him as the manager went off in search of them. She flicked him a glance. “I saw him watching us earlier while we danced.”

“I don’t understand.” Matteo ran a hand over his head. “The door to the cellar locks automatically. You need a code to get down there.”

“There’s a ten-second delay before it locks again,” Quinn said numbly. “If he was watching us and saw you go down he could have slipped in.”

Matteo wanted to kick himself for being so indiscreet.
Like a cowboy with your gun drawn at all times,
Riccardo had said. Was that what he was?

Well, he was paying for it now.

“It was a
Whispers and Tales
photographer,” Raymond said, returning with a sheet of paper. He handed it to Matteo, a frown on his face. “Why would he be shooting in the cellar? It was not included in the permissions.”

Quinn looked as if she wanted to throw up. Matteo studied the photographer’s picture. It was definitely him.

He left a voice mail with Alex to put pressure on the magazine not to use the photograph. Threaten them with legal action. But it was 2:00 a.m. Chances were, the photograph would be making the rounds before she even had a chance to speak to his editor.

Quinn pressed her hands to her temples. “That’s not going to make any difference, is it? They’re going to use it.”

“Probably.”

They closed things off for the night, then headed back to the suite. It was nearly two-thirty in the morning by the time Quinn paced the floor of the living room, steam coming out of her ears. “With your notoriety, that photograph’s going to be everywhere by tomorrow morning.”

“Likely.”

“We need a game plan.”

“We’ve done what we can do for tonight.” He kept his voice level, but his stomach was churning. The sense that he was on a one-way ticket to Hades binding its way around his brain. “It was a great night for Le Belle Bleu, Quinn. You did a superb job. Get some sleep and we’ll figure the rest out tomorrow after I talk to Alex.”

“I am not you.”
She went from agitated to Mount Vesuvius in under a second. “You might be used to having graphic photos strewn across the internet, but I am not.”

He gritted his teeth. “I am generally very discreet about my relationships. This is
not
a usual occurrence for me.”

“Yes, well, I have a
reputation
to protect. This is a disaster.”

He took a step toward her, his blood heating at the gibe. “It’s done. We can’t take it back. There’s no use being melodramatic.”

“Melodramatic?
You won’t feel that way when my father hits the roof. When the board realizes how ethically wrong we’ve both been. Goddammit, Matteo. I was going to recuse myself. Now what is everyone going to think?”

“We will deal with it,” he said firmly. “Together. It will be fine.”

“You don’t think Daniel Williams is going to see this and not cry bloody murder?” Her voice rose another octave. “I have
breached
an open bidding process with completely unethical behavior. It is not going to be fine. It’s going to be awful.”

“Quinn—”

She started pacing again. “Why couldn’t you have just listened to me? Kept your hands to yourself until that party was over?”

“You want to discuss who hasn’t been able to keep their hands to themselves?” He gave her a dangerous look. “Because you started this.”

Color flared in her high cheekbones. She turned and walked to the open French doors and leaned against the frame, looking out at the sea. “It’s not just about me, Matteo. De Campo could lose the contract over this.”

He was well aware of that. Well aware of the nausea forcing its way up his throat, threatening to choke him.

“Panicking isn’t going to help,” he said grimly.

“My whole career is hanging in the balance.” Quinn turned around, her face paler than he’d ever seen it. “What else would you suggest I do? I’ve spent the last seven years killing myself to get where I am. To prove myself. People are finally starting to respect me for who I am. And then I do this.
For
what?
For me to satisfy my need to
sleep with you?
”

He went to her then, wrapped his fingers around her upper arms and pulled her to him.
“Do not
start tearing us apart because you’re afraid. I told you I won’t let you do that.”

“Why not? You haven’t even said—”

“What?” He slid his fingers under her chin and brought her gaze up to his.

“Nothing.” She shook her head. “I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

It hit him then
. She wanted him to say he was falling in love with her....

The words jammed in his throat. He cared about Quinn. He really did. But he wasn’t sure he even knew what love was. How could he say it?

He might never be ready to say it.

He swallowed hard. “I care about you,” he said gruffly. “I told you earlier I want you in my life.”

She looked up at him, her pupils dilating like those of a wounded animal. “Really it was my fault wasn’t it? Falling for a playboy? Because what does that really mean? You want me in your life until you eventually tire of me?”

“Quinn—”

She held up a hand. “I’ve had enough for one night. Like you say, let’s see what the morning brings.”

She marched toward the bedrooms. He watched her go, chest tight, the injured look on her face
almost
making him go after her. But what would he say? He’d forced her to open up and now he didn’t know what to do with the information he’d unearthed.

His mouth tightened. He jammed his hands in his pockets to restrain himself. It was a better idea to let them both cool off and focus on the fact they’d just put a
ten-million-dollar deal
in jeopardy. His own career, his relationship with his family was hanging in the balance if he didn’t figure a way out of this.

He needed an action plan and he needed it fast. Now was a time for logic. Not emotion. Because, undoubtedly, all hell was about to break loose.

CHAPTER TWELVE

I
T
WAS
WORSE
than he’d envisioned.

Matteo sat at his computer the next morning, a half-drunk cup of coffee by his side, the
Whispers and Tales
photo emblazoned across his screen. The placement of his hands made him wince. The cutline made him think selling wine to the devout might actually be a viable occupation.

He read it again to make sure it was as bad as he thought.

A Merger Made in Heaven?

After cutting a swath through the globe’s most eligible women, all eyes have been on devastating Matteo De Campo to see which leading lady he’d end up with next. Seems the much-sought-after bachelor might have his sights set on a very lucrative merger between the De Campo and Davis clans. De Campo, seen here engaged in a passionate clinch with Luxe Hotels vice president, Quinn Davis, during the reopening of the chain’s legendary property, Le Belle Bleu, in St. Lucia, seems to be having no trouble melting the heart (or other parts) of the “ice princess.” We give this particular merger a hearty thumbs-up.

Damn.
He sat back and pressed his palms to his temples. If he was Daniel Williams, he’d be out of his mind. Questioning the integrity of all of it. The board, Warren—who knew how they’d handle it? And then there was Riccardo. He’d wanted to have all the facts, know who the new decision-makers would be so he could assure his brother he had things under control.

Not happening now.

Quinn came out of her bedroom, dressed and bleary-eyed. “It’s up,” he said grimly. She sat down beside him and scanned the cutline. Her skin paled. His chest tightened. “Quinn—”

She stood up. “I need to head Warren off at the pass. My flight doesn’t get in until eight. Can you take me in the jet and drop me off first?”

“Si.”
He stood up. “Do you want me to come with you?”

Her eyes flashed with an icy brilliance. “I run multimillion-dollar companies, Matteo. The last thing I need is to be babysat by you.”

“I was offering to
support
you, not babysit you.”

“I need neither, thank you.” She headed toward the bedroom. “I’ll be ready in thirty minutes.”

He glanced at his watch. Heard a beep as a text came in. Riccardo.

Meet me at the house when you get in.

He sat down, a feeling of such intense déjà vu rolling over him it was hard to breathe.
“Mi deludi,”
Riccardo had said that night after the airline pitch.
You disappoint me
.

It had been the second-worst moment of his life. Seeing G’s car wrapped around that tree the absolute lowest.

Alex called. Asked him point-blank if he was having an affair with Quinn. He confirmed it, wincing as she swore in his ear. “Do not say a
word
to anyone, not even the goddamned air hostess, Matteo,” she warned him, and arranged to meet him at Riccardo and Lilly’s to discuss damage control.

They did the flight up the East Coast in silence. When they landed at O’Hare, Matteo helped Quinn off the jet, his pilot anxious to keep their stop short and move on to New York. His mind trained on his upcoming confrontation with his brother, he gave her a quick, hard kiss. “I’ll call you.” Then he stepped back on the plane, the pilot went through his preflight takeoff checklist and they were back in the air.

He leaned his head back against the leather seat. His plan consisted of one strategy and one strategy only. He had to hope that Warren Davis was a reasonable man, that the board allowed De Campo to pitch and he won it so outright that no one would ever question his relationship with Quinn.

There was no backup plan. There was nowhere to hide. This was it.

* * *

Two and a half hours later, he stood on the back terrace of Riccardo and Lilly’s Upper East Side Manhattan town house. His brother’s jerky, barely controlled movements as he poured each of them a scotch sent Matteo’s shoulders to his ears. “You need to let me explain,” he started in a preemptive strike. “I care about her, Riccardo.”

His brother whipped around, eyes blazing, a half-filled glass in his hand. “You
care
about her? I told you to keep your hands off her, Matty. Once, just once, I asked you to do something for the betterment of this company. And you’re telling me, with all the women on this planet who would beg for you to
screw
them, you
care
about Quinn Davis so much you had to
do
her?
”

Matteo took a step toward him. “Watch your mouth.”

His brother slammed the glass on the bar, his legs spread wide in a fighting stance. “Right now I’d like to take your head off, Matty. I swear to God...”

He swallowed hard. “I think I’m in love with her.”

“I don’t care if you think she’s the future mother of your children.
You cannot have her.”

“Well, that’s unfortunate,” he said quietly. “Because I intend to.”

Riccardo’s ebony eyes bored into him. His nostrils flared, his fists balled tight by his sides. For a single, heart-stopping moment Matteo thought his brother would finally hit him. Let loose the aggression that had been pulsing between them for years. He stood his ground, his body tense with adrenaline. But it was like a crystal clear clarity had come over him. He
could
see Quinn as the mother of his children. For the first time in his life, he saw that potential with a woman. And he wasn’t giving her up.

Riccardo let out an oath, picked up a glass and shoved it at him. Then he retrieved his own, filled it the rest of the way and took a long swig. “I have tried to be patient. I have tried to give you the benefit of the doubt time and time again, Matty, but I am very afraid you have inherited Giancarlo’s death wish and I no longer know what to do with you.”

Matteo felt the blood drain from his face. “I admit for the last couple of years I have been out of control. I had lost my way. But I am
back.
I have spent the last two weeks laying some brilliant groundwork to win this deal. Luxe
will
choose us.”

“
If
Warren Davis does not eliminate us from the process after he finds out you have been
screwing
his daughter.
If
Daniel Williams doesn’t make such a stink Luxe can’t help but eliminate us.”

His jaw hardened. “Quinn will not let that happen. She knows the right choice.”

“She is
compromised.”

“She is going to recuse herself. And she will make her thoughts known. I know her.”

“That doesn’t mean the committee will go her way.”

“
I
will convince them when I’m in that room.”

Riccardo’s lip curled. “Do you
really
think I should let you walk into that pitch given everything that’s happened? If I were a smart man I would end this and do it myself.”

Matteo’s jaw tightened. “If you are a smart man you’ll keep with the plan. I know the company. The players... I will win this.”

His brother shook his head. “I must be mad.”

“You need to trust me.”

Riccardo paced to the other side of the terrace and stood looking out at the glasslike surface of the pool. When he turned back, his face was grim. “So help me God, Matty, it will not be just our business relationship that’s in jeopardy if you let this family down.”

A potent surge of anger raged through Matteo. He strode forward until he was toe-to-toe with his brother. “You always think I care less, Riccardo. That
everyone
cares less than you do. Well, you’d be surprised if you dug deep. Because I care. I care more than almost any damn person in this company.” He pointed a finger at him. “I will win this for you, but on my own terms. Quinn Davis is nonnegotiable. Take it or leave it. That’s my offer.”

A long moment passed as Riccardo’s hard gaze rested on his face.

“Do it then.”