Seduced by Innocence by Lucy Gordon Page A

instinctively that she could trust him.
    At last Bruno said, “If Maurizio has talked about Rufio, then he’s allowed you close to his heart. It’s very strange that—” He checked himself.
    “Strange that what?”
    “Nothing. I’m only his uncle. I don’t really understand him at all.”
    “Did you know him when he was living here?”
    “Slightly. I wasn’t in Venice much. I kept having to leave to escape various people—creditors, angry husbands, that sort of thing.” His gesture implied a whole world of outraged authority, and Terri chuckled. “But whenever I returned, there was Maurizio, always a little richer, a little closer to being King Midas, a little more formidable. He studied business, persuaded the banks to lend him money by a process I think must have been akin to hypnotism. He was a terrible risk but they handed over whatever he wanted, anyway.” Bruno yelled suddenly, “Hey, Giorgio, what do you mean by giving me an empty bottle, you dog?”
    “It wasn’t empty when I gave it to you,” Giorgio said, grinning as he replaced it.
    When he’d drained half the new bottle in a gulp, Bruno continued his story. “Then a man called Torelli, a hotel owner, cheated him on a deal. Maurizio went to him and asked him politely to put the matter right. Torelli laughed in my nephew’s face and got his strong-arm men to rough him up. I’ll never forget the sight of Maurizio when he staggered home. He was bleeding and covered with bruises, and his eyes were full of a terrible light as he said, ‘Let him beware.’ Within a year, he’d bankrupted Torelli and bought his hotel at a knock-down price. Today it’s the Midas.”
    Terri gave a slight shudder. “What a frightening story.”
    “It is,” Bruno agreed. “But Maurizio can be a frightening man. He broke Torelli with a cold, single-minded purpose that I still remember in my nightmares. He never forgets a friend who’s been good to him, but he never forgives an enemy, and his vengeance is merciless. I take care not to get on his wrong side because I’m a coward. If I were a brave man—” He broke off and shrugged.
    “If you were a brave man—what would you do?” Terri asked curiously.
    “What’s the point of talking about it?” Bruno said with a sigh. “I’m not brave and I’m getting old. I like to sleep soft and know where my next meal’s coming from. When I was younger, it was different.”
    “Bruno, I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about,” Terri said, half laughing, half worried. There was an edge on his voice that puzzled her because it sounded like self-loathing.
    “Of course you don’t,” he said, smiling again. “No matter. Here, take these.” He pushed the bag of masks toward her. “I bought them for you.”
    “For me? That was sweet of you.”
    “A young woman always needs masks. At your age, you’re making the great decisions of your life—who will be your lover, perhaps your husband? Who will father your children? Who can tell who you may need to be while you’re making your choice?”
    “Thank you. I’m going to enjoy playing with them.”
    “It’s not a game, Teresa. Remember, you won’t be the only one in disguise. The other masks are more dangerous for being invisible.” He drained his glass and refilled it. “A man pursuing a vendetta always hides his true face,” he observed to nobody in particular.
    “Bruno,” she said, laughing, “you’re tipsy.”
    “So I am. So I am. Well, well.”
    “In any case, who’d pursue a vendetta against me? I’ve done nobody any harm.”
    He regarded her gravely. “I think you’ve never harmed anyone in your entire life, or ever would. You are generous, gentle and honest, and I pray God that life treats you in such a way that you can stay like that.”
    “You’re very tipsy.”
    “How do you know? How do you know it isn’t simply another mask? A tipsy man is forgiven much that would get a sober one a kick in the rear.” His manner