Rumours: The Secret Billionaires. Дженнифер ХейвордЧитать онлайн книгу.
just because Sebastien was living the life of a happily married man.
‘How’s your wife?’ Stavros asked Sebastien, inadvertently ratcheting up the tension even higher.
‘Better company than you. Why are you so surly tonight?’ Sebastien seemed to be goading the other man, as if he knew he was pressing buttons normally off limits.
‘I haven’t won yet. And my grandfather is threatening to disinherit me if I don’t marry soon. I’d tell him to go to hell, but...’ Stavros glowered and took a deep swig of whisky in an attempt to put his issues aside. Antonio knew just how much pressure his friend was under from his grandfather—and the underhand threats used to exert that pressure.
He himself had succumbed to the same tactics and pressure from his family when he and Eloisa had married. A marriage to link two great families, it had been doomed from the outset and now he found himself the only divorced one among them. The whole experience left a bitter taste he hadn’t yet swallowed.
‘Your mother,’ Alejandro said, his hand tight on the whisky glass, his expression one of deep concentration. Like himself and Stavros, he had inherited his wealth and taken it to a higher level, but now he regarded Sebastien, a self-made billionaire who’d come from nothing, with caution. Did he too sense that something was far from right?
‘Exactly,’ Stavros said sharply.
‘Do you ever get the feeling we spend too much of our lives counting our money and chasing superficial thrills at the expense of something more meaningful?’ Sebastien looked from one to the other, the game of poker forgotten.
‘You called it,’ Antonio said to Alejandro, tossing over a handful of chips. ‘Four drinks and he’s philosophizing.’
‘I said three.’ Stavros shrugged without apology. ‘My losing streak continues.’
‘I’m serious,’ Sebastien injected. ‘At our level, it’s numbers on a page. Points on a scoreboard. What does it contribute to our lives? Money doesn’t buy happiness.’
Sebastien’s chips jangled as he lifted them slightly before letting them drop back to the table, the sound overpowering in the sudden tense silence as his gaze held Antonio’s before moving his attention to Stavros and Alejandro. Whatever it was Sebastien had to say, Antonio knew it was big. He knew him well enough to say it would be far more than the apparent casual comment on money which stemmed from being the only self-made billionaire in the room.
‘It buys some nice substitutes.’ Antonio took another swig of whisky, allowing it to heat his throat, then sat back in his chair, the game the last thing on his mind now.
Sebastien’s mouth twisted. ‘Like your cars? Your private island? You don’t even use that boat you’re so proud of, Stavros. We buy expensive toys and play dangerous games, but does it enrich our lives? Feed our souls?’
‘What are you suggesting?’ Alejandro drawled. ‘We go and live with the Buddhists in the mountains? Learn the meaning of life? Renounce our worldly possessions to find inner clarity?’
‘You three couldn’t go two weeks without your wealth and family names to support you.’ Sebastien’s voice hardened.
‘Could you?’ Stavros challenged. ‘Try telling us you would go back to when you were broke, before you made your fortune. Hungry isn’t happy. That’s why you are such a rich bastard now.’
Sebastien looked from one to the other. ‘As it happens I’ve been thinking of donating half my fortune to charity, to start a global search and rescue fund. Not everyone has friends who will dig them out of an avalanche with their bare hands.’
‘Are you serious?’ Alejandro injected. Sebastien had their attention now. ‘That’s what? Five billion?’
‘You can’t take it with you,’ Sebastien philosophized. ‘Monika is on board with it, but I’m still debating. I’ll tell you what. You three go two weeks without your credit cards and I’ll do it.’
Sebastien silenced the chink of the chips, the sternness of his expression a warning in itself.
Although he’d directed the statement at all three of them, Antonio had the distinct impression it was aimed specifically at him.
‘Starting when? We all have responsibilities,’ Alejandro said as he looked at Stavros, then to him and Antonio nodded in agreement.
‘Fair enough. Clear the decks at home. But be prepared for word from me—and two weeks in the real world.’ Sebastien looked at each of them in turn, the silence in the room heavier than the weight of snow they’d dug through to drag their friend out from the claws of death.
Antonio sat back again, trying to shake off the sense of impending trouble. This wasn’t what the evening should be about. They’d just pulled off the wildest challenge yet, but what Sebastien was suggesting was far more than their usual challenge, more than the normal show of bravado. This was the ultimate dare.
‘You’re really going to wager half your fortune on a cakewalk of a challenge?’ Alejandro put in, the game of poker now the last thing on anyone’s mind.
‘If you’ll put up your island, your favourite toys?’ Sebastien began, his deep voice as calm as ever. ‘I’ll say where and when.’
‘Easy,’ Stavros spoke first. ‘Count me in.’
Antonio exchanged glances with Stavros and Alejandro and saw the same suspicion mirrored in their eyes. What the hell was Sebastien planning and how was it connected with going two weeks without their credit cards, family names and wealth?
FOUR MONTHS AGO Antonio had accepted Sebastien’s challenge and today it began. Two weeks without his wealth and all that went with it. The only contact he’d have with life as he knew it for the next fourteen days would be through Stavros and Alejandro, who were still waiting to find out just what it was that Sebastien had planned to challenge them with and where.
Antonio closed the apartment door behind him. The sounds of Milan’s streets filtered in, seeming to bounce around the compact but sparsely furnished room, which was the main living area of the apartment Sebastien had sent him to.
He glanced round the room. This had to be some kind of a joke. What the hell was Sebastien playing at? He saw a note on top of a pile of clothes and a pair of boots which had been left neatly on the black seats running along one wall to serve as a sofa. He damn well hoped it wasn’t the bed too.
His designer shoes tapped hard on the white tiled floor as he crossed the small room in a few strides and picked up the envelope addressed to him. No mistake, then; this was the right place. He glanced down at the clothes and boots and frowned, cursing in Italian.
Apart from the fact that Milan was too close to his estranged parents, and it was where he’d lived with his ex-wife for the few short months their so-called marriage had lasted, it was also where he’d met the one woman who’d tested his family duty and honour to the limit. She’d almost driven him mad with desire, but duty had won. His passion and desire had been overridden, but that brief weekend affair with Sadie Parker had made him wish things were different—that he was different, that he hadn’t already had his future mapped out by a family who thought more of their family name than anything else.
Irritation coursed through him as he opened the note.
Welcome to your home. For the next two weeks Antonio Di Marcello does not exist. You will be known as Toni Adessi and you will report to Centro Auto Barzetti, across the road, as soon as you have changed, your undercover job for the next two weeks.
You may only contact me, Stavros or Alejandro on the phone provided. You will not make contact with anyone else via any method for the next two weeks. You have two hundred euros on which to live. Under no circumstances are you to blow your cover. If you succeed, I will make the promised