Undercover Lover by Max Hudson

Author:Max Hudson [Hudson, Max]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-09-03T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

The doctor was less than thrilled to be rousted out of his bed at midnight, but he took Spencer into the treatment room that had been built on the main floor of the mansion. Stefano went, too, so he could continue to fuss over his friend. Rafe took a moment to text Drew.

Whatever you hear on the news, don’t worry. I’m all right. More later.

At that moment, Drew was with the night crew, finding out where the other warehouse was as well as what those secret shipments were all about. He looked forward to hearing what he’d learned.

“Mr. Tucker.”

He turned in surprise at the sound of Gianni Marconi’s voice. The old man was standing in the doorway, his cane in his hand. He was pale, but his hair was combed, and he was dressed in an old-fashioned silk smoking jacket. He looked like something out of a classic movie.

“Mr. Marconi.”

The old man stepped into the room gingerly. His breathing was labored and wheezy, a reminder that he had lost half of one lung to his recent brush with cancer. He stopped a few feet away from Rafe, who put his phone away.

“I’m told that I have you to thank for my son’s continued existence.”

He saw no reason to be humble. “Yes, sir.”

“Thank you.” He gestured toward his phone. “May I ask…?”

“My significant other,” he said. “Just advising that no matter what the news says, I’m okay.”

“Conscientious,” Marconi nodded. “And kind. A good combination.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The old man was gripped by a coughing fit, and in his weakened condition, he nearly lost his balance. Rafe caught him before he could fall and helped him to a nearby chair. Marconi clung to his arm briefly, then nodded.

“I’m all right,” he said, but his voice was weak.

“Can I get you anything, sir? Water?”

“No, no. Nothing.” He took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his mouth, then tucked it away again. The old man took a breath. “I’m not long for this world, as I’m sure you all know. My treatment was not ended because it was successful. Quite the opposite. I ended it because the treatment will not help, and it’s worse than the disease.”

Rafe didn’t know what to say, so he said the obvious thing. “I’m so sorry to hear that, sir.”

“No sorrier than I, I should think.” Marconi smiled ruefully. “Stefano is my only surviving child, and the one who was always least capable. He’s never going to have a child of his own, so the family will end with me… unless someone else steps forward to take control.”

“You have nephews who would be quite able to shoulder the load,” he told him.

“True. But they will need assistance. Your mother was Italian, was she not?”

He nodded. “Yes. She was born in Pescara.”

The old man seemed pleased and took another breath. “What was her name?”

“Isabella Santangelo.”

“A lovely name.”

“Yes, sir. I always thought that if I had a daughter, I would name her after my mother.”

Marconi looked surprised. “I had been under the impression that you shared my son’s… inclinations.

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