A Chance Encounter (St. John Series Book 10) Read online

  “I told you to avoid Russo’s daughters! And I come home to find one in your bed.”

  “What?!” Oliver exclaimed, sitting back up and looking at Maddie, his eyes wide as if he had just seen a ghost.

  “That is Antonio Russo’s daughter in your bed. And not just any daughter, but his favorite daughter, Madelena. He is tearing this bloody city apart looking for her. He has been to every house on the opposite side of the street and is now making his way down this side. It will be only a matter of minutes before he will be here, demanding to search my home for”— he angrily pointed at Madelena—“her!”

  Oliver scurried out of bed and raced to the window.

  “Put some pants on, man,” Martin complained, picking up the black breeches from last night and tossing them at Oliver’s back. “You and your randy behavior has cost us both dearly this time. He is going to have both of our bollocks in a jar when he finds her here.”

  Fury in his gaze, Oliver whipped back around to face Martin. His heated gaze landed upon Madelena.

  Angrily jerking on his pants, he spoke. “I was warned that your mother wanted to marry off her daughters. I never dreamed that she would go to this excess. Is that her plan? To place you in my bed in order to coerce a marriage proposal out of me?”

  “How dare you?” Madelena seethed, tossing her legs from the bed. Holding the sheet to her body, she climbed out of bed and approached Oliver. “I had no idea my father was out looking for me.”

  “Really? Nearly a week ago, your mother and sisters were chasing Stephano Mortilini and me around like we were some prized bulls for them to purchase. And when they noticed that Stephano was not interested in them then their pursuit increased, and they set their sights solely upon me. I guess since they could not have a Mortilini then a St. John would do. Now I can see the lengths this family will go to in order to get a marriage proposal out of a wealthy man. I will not allow this family to get a hold in Emerald Shipping.”

  “You arrogant ass!” Madelena retaliated. “My mother hates me! And besides, I had no idea what your surname was until this very instant, and it still means nothing to me! I wanted you for sex. I wanted you to take my virginity because I am being forced to marry another, and he wants a purity check before our vows!”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. I am to be poked and prodded to make certain that I am pure before I am to wed some old fat Greek named Miles Drakos—”

  “Drakos?” Martin interrupted.

  Madelena ignored Henshaw as she continued her rant. “—but if I am not a virgin, then the wedding will not take place. I told you last night, I have no desire to marry, and now you see the lengths I have gone to, to make certain that I don’t. I had sex with a complete stranger.”

  “See the lengths you went to?” Oliver seethed, his green eyes darkening with fury. “All I see is a way for you to marry someone other than Drakos. Now your father will find us and force us to wed.”

  “If you keep shouting, he will!” Madelena replied.

  Martin walked past the arguing couple and gazed out the window. “Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Russo is at my gates.”

  “Shit,” Oliver mumbled, running a hand through his red hair.

  “Great,” Madelena replied with sarcasm, tossing her hands in the air. “See. All this arguing has delayed my departure.” She whirled to face Martin. “Can you stall him enough for me to slip out the back?”

  “I can. Except it is not only him but his men who are searching the homes as well. Every exit will be guarded until the search is completed.” Martin turned to address Oliver. “You, my friend, are screwed.” Martin snorted. “And that is what got you in this mess to begin with.”

  “Shut it, Martin,” Oliver snapped.

  Pounding upon the front door echoed through the house. “Open the door!”

  “And here I thought having only you here would make my life easier. I should have invited Owen, as well. Perhaps he would have talked some sense into you,” Martin complained.

  “Just shut the hell up. Go answer the bloody door while I try to think of some way to hide his daughter.”

  “I wouldn’t have to delay him if you would learn to keep your prick in your pants every once in a while.”

  More pounding occurred on the door. “Signore Henshaw!”

  Martin headed to the bedroom door and turned his head to address Oliver. As he did, he neglected to see Madelena’s dress and fell, striking his head upon the table.

  “Son of a bitch!” Martin exclaimed. Climbing to his feet. His hand came to the knot forming on his forehead. “My life was peaceful until you arrived.”

  “You invited me,” Oliver replied.

  “Don’t remind me!” Martin smoothed down the front of his coat. “Now, if you will excuse me, I will find some lie to tell the most powerful man in Rome. Hopefully, he will not see through my lies and shoot me where I stand.”

  “Signore Henshaw,” Madelena spoke.

  Martin turned to face her, his face contorted with anger. “Yes.”

  Madelena pointed to her hair. “You might need to fix your hair.”

  Martin leaned over and viewed his reflection in the mirror. A frustrated sigh left him. He attempted to tame his wild locks. When they would not comply, he dipped his hands into the pitcher of water and smoothed down his hair.

  “Now, if you will excuse me,” Martian said, leaving, slamming the door in the process.

  “Wonder if he realizes that water is dripping from his hair,” Madelena spoke.

  Oliver turned to face her. “I do not think that is his worry at the moment. You could have at least warned me that you were Russo’s daughter.”

  “And if I had, would you have brought me here? Would we have…well…”—she pointed to the bed—“…you know.”

  “Had sex?”

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  “Then you see why I left that fact out. Now quit belaboring the issue of my father and help me try to figure out what to do. If he finds me here, he’ll kill you.”

  “No. He’ll make us marry. Then kill me.”

  Madelena flared her fingers outward. “Would you stop it with marriage? I told you, I do not want to marry. Why do you think I was selling baskets?” Before she could reply, she continued, “I had a dream of earning enough money to rent my own home. A dream of escaping my mother and sisters. A dream of being an independent woman. A merchant who did not need a man for support. Now, if my father finds me, he’ll ship me off to a convent.”

  Oliver ran his fingers through his hair. “Right now, we need to hide you.”

  “What do you think I’ve been trying to tell you?” Disdain dripped from her words. Her eyes drifted to the bed. She could not hide under it, for that would be the first place they searched. Her eyes went to the linens, and she spotted the red area upon the sheet. “Oh, dear.”

  “What now?” Oliver mumbled, his gaze following hers.

  “What’s that?”

  “That would be the evidence of your purity.”

  Madelena’s lids came down, and her shoulders slumped. “How are you going to explain that?”

  Oliver looked down at his hand. The injury had an ugly dark scab covering it. In another week it would be healed. He approached the mirror. Removing his razor from the shaving kit, he slid the blade over the healing wound, causing a hiss of pain to leave him.

  “What are you doing?” Madelena asked with concern.

  Oliver turned to face her, the wound upon his hand now bleeding. “Saving my ass. And yours.” Opening a drawer, he removed a bandage and wrapped it around the bleeding hand.

  Voices carried up to them from the front door. Madelena raced to the window and looked out.

  “They are entering the house!” she whispered in a panic. “What are we going to do?”

  Oliver looked around the room. The small linen closet would not do for they would most certainly look there first. The bed was not an option either. His gaze lan
ded on his sea chest. “How do you do in confined spaces?”

  “Not very well.”

  “Well, I suggest you quickly become accustomed to the notion.”

  “Why?” she whispered in mortification, but already knowing the answer.

  “Because if you haven’t noticed, that is the only hiding place in this room. No one would think to look for you in a trunk.”

  “I can’t hide in a trunk.”

  “And I don’t relish the idea of being shot.” Bending, he scooped up her dress and approached the wooden trunk. After shoving her dress inside, he turned to her. “Now get in.”

  Madelena looked around the room, her heart racing. This was not part of her plan.

  “Get in, now,” Oliver bit out.

  Madelena’s bare feet padded across the floor, and she looked down at the dress in the trunk.

  “Get in.”

  She swallowed and climbed into the trunk, taking the sheet with her. As Oliver closed the lid, she spoke. “Wait! My shift.”

  Oliver looked around the floor and spotted the item. Handing her the article, she pulled it over her head and gave him the sheet. He closed the lid down and turned.

  “I can’t do this,” Madelena said, raising the lid of the trunk. “I can’t breathe in here.”

  “Do you think you’ll be able to breathe when your father wraps his hands around your throat?”

  “It’s too hot in this blasted thing. If you think this is a good idea, you get in, and I’ll face my father alone.”

  “No. Martin is sticking his neck out for us, and I will not have him regret that action.” Oliver looked around the room and spotted a knitted throw. He placed the item on the lip of the trunk. “Now, hunker down and close this bloody lid. The blanket will keep it open just enough for air.”

  Madelena did as bade. When the lid closed, she could hear Oliver walking around the room. The top to the sea chest moved as he placed a few items on top. She could hear the bed creak and Oliver mumbling something before growing quiet. She closed her eyes. Please, God, don’t let my father find me.

  Chapter Eleven

  Martin was mumbling under his breath, still smoothing down his hair as he descended the steps. He called to the butler “Open the door, Richard.”

  The tall, thin man opened the door, and Russo pushed his way inside.

  “It's about time you let me in,” Russo complained.

  “Sorry. I was detained. Nature calling and all that.” Martin inwardly cringed at his fabrication.

  Russo’s gaze drifted around the foyer. Nothing seemed out of sorts. No unusual activities. The only thing out of place was a bouquet of flowers resting in a water pitcher.

  “Nice flowers,” Russo said. “For your wife?”

  Martin’s eyes went to the bouquet of lilies. Geneva hated lilies. “Yes. My wife adores them.”

  “Where is Signora Russo?”

  “She is at her mother’s.”

  “And you purchased her flowers?” Russo’s voice held his doubt of the tale.

  Think. Think. Think. “Yes. You see, she is returning today. I like to surprise her with little gifts. Keep the spark in the marriage. But I don’t have to tell you these things.”

  “Indeed,” Russo drolly replied. “My men have taken the liberty of searching the grounds for my daughter. As you are aware, she was seen in this vicinity last evening. She has not returned, and that is not like her. I am leaving no stone unturned to find her.”

  Martin swallowed hard. “Of course. Feel free to search wherever you need. Do you think something happened to her?”

  “I’m not certain. I have made many enemies over the years.”

  “Yet you keep us all safe. My wife and I are most grateful for your diligence.”

  “Of course.” Russo walked past Martin and took in the downstairs.

  “That is my study.” Martin pointed to the left. “The sitting room beside it. The kitchen in the back. The dining room across the hall and a drawing room to your right.”

  “And your chambers are upstairs?”

  “Yes,” he answered, his voice rising with nervousness.

  Russo seemed to notice. “Then you don’t mind if I begin my search there.”

  Sweat began to bead upon Martin’s head. “Not at all. I do have a house guest.”

  “St. John?”

  “Yes. But if you don’t mind me asking, why are you searching upstairs first? If someone tried to harm your daughter, wouldn’t the grounds be the logical place to begin?”

  “Leave no stone unturned, Signore Henshaw.”

  Russo climbed the steps two at a time, Martin right on his heels babbling. Russo did not pay attention to Martin’s ramblings. He had a mission. Henshaw was acting suspiciously. Nichole had reported that she saw Madelena enter this home with St. John and that Madelena never left. Signora Henshaw had departed the beginning of Carnival. Martin, on the other hand had stayed behind. However, he traveled to visit his wife yesterday afternoon and had just returned moments ago, so it was possible that he was assisting St. John in hiding Madelena. And if so, then both these men would face the consequences.

  “Where are your chambers?” Russo asked at the top of the steps.

  “To the right.”

  Russo turned left. Martin cringed and looked upward. Why was this happening to him? Why? Things had been going so well with Russo until this.

  Racing to catch up to the influential man, Martin tried to dissuade him from going down this wing. “Oliver was out celebrating Carnival last evening. He most likely is sleeping soundly. You know how much people overindulge in spirits during this time. Why don’t you begin your search on the opposite side of the home? By the time you reach this area, he should be awake.”

  Russo ignored the suggestion and stopped at the last door. “Is this your guest’s chambers?”

  Martin nodded his head slightly. “It is.”

  Russo turned the knob and entered.

  “You should knock first!” Martin tried to intervene as Russo entered. But it was to no avail. The older man stepped into the room. Martin closed his eyes and mumbled under his breath, “If Russo doesn’t kill Oliver, I will.”

  Russo stopped in his tracks as his eyes scanned the room. No movement. Not even a stirring from the man lying half on the bed wearing only a pair of black breeches that were undone. The man’s right leg lay on the bed, his left dangled over the side. The man’s shirt lay where it was tossed haphazardly over a chair.

  Martin’s head darted left to right as he looked for signs of Madelena. There was nothing. Not even a slipper. What had Oliver done with her? His eyes darted to the open window and grew wide. Surely he had not had her hang from the windowsill! His attention turned back to Russo. The older man’s fists were clenched at his sides, and his chest heaved with frustration. It appeared to Martin that Russo was going to pounce on Oliver where he lay.

  “Oliver,” Martin spoke. “We have company.”

  Russo’s eyes lowered to slits as he viewed Henshaw over his shoulder.

  Oliver pushed his body from the bed and placed his bandaged hand over his eyes. “What the devil is going on?”

  “We have company.”

  Oliver allowed his body to fall back to the bed and threw his bandaged hand back over his eyes. “Tell them to go away. Can’t you see, man? I am in no shape for company. Carnival took the best from me. Tell whoever is visiting that I am indisposed and to return this afternoon.”

  “Where is my daughter?” Russo asked, stepping towards Oliver.

  With fascination, Martin watched his friend’s impeccable acting skills. He never knew Oliver possessed such talent.

  “I have not seen your daughters, and trust me, I would most certainly recognize them. They are, by far, the most unattractive women I have ever seen.”

  “Shit,” Martin mumbled. Oliver was going to get himself killed right now—even without Russo finding Madelena.

  “Do not insult my pride and joys. Now, where is my daugh
ter?”

  Oliver removed his hand from one eye and glanced at the man.

  “Sit up, boy!” Russo demanded.

  Oliver pushed his body back to a sitting position, purposefully placing his injured hand upon the bloody spot on the bed.

  “What?” Oliver spoke again. He knew he was being disrespectful, but he also had to play the part of a man in pain from a vile overindulgence in spirits. “As you can see, there is no one in here but me.”

  “Madelena. Where is she?”

  “Who?”

  “Madelena. My daughter. Signora Cancio saw Madelena enter this house with you late last evening.”

  A dreamlike smile pulled the corner of Oliver’s lip as he raised his head. “Ah, her. Delightful young lady.”

  “So you admit she was with you?” Russo advanced upon Oliver, stopping just inches away.

  “She was. She told me she was hiding from someone. She walked in the front door and out the back.” His brows came together. “Are you certain she’s your daughter? She looks nothing like the others. Quite beautiful, that one.”

  “Signora Cancio said no one left.”

  “Really?” A confused look came to Oliver. “Perhaps she is blind for I watched that lovely peahen stroll right out the back door and through the rose hedges into Signora Cancio’s backyard.”

  Both men in the room were shocked when Russo’s backhand struck Oliver. Oliver came to his feet, his eyes narrow with anger, his chest heaving with frustration.

  “That was uncalled for.” An unsaid threat slid around Oliver’s words.

  Martin knew Oliver’s tone and could sense his friend’s simmering rage.

  “You have insulted my daughter and have called me a liar. It was most certainly called for.”

  “Oliver. Calm yourself,” Martin said, hoping to deescalate the situation. St. Johns were notorious for their violent tempers, and it was about to rear its head against Russo.

  “Telling me to calm down does not help the matter, Martin,” Oliver snapped. “I have been attacked without cause.”