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“Look, I know you two hooked up at the casino. I’m just hoping you aren’t here for her. Like, I know you’re married, but my sister is off limits.”
Not sure why, but I admitted the truth to her brother. “I’m not married.”
His eyes opened wide. “What? But you’re wearing a ring. Are you a widower? Oh, god. I’m so sorry?—”
I held up my hand to stop his ramblings. “I’ve never been married. I wear this ring as a defense. Against women who might want marriage with me. Capisce?”
“Ah, I get it. But you don’t need to wear that for Maggie. She’s as anti-relationship as they come.”
That made two of us. “Good to know, but I don’t plan to tell her the ring is fake. And I suggest you don’t, either.”
“Why not? She won’t care that you’re single. The winery is all that matters to her, and I think it’s safe to say you’ve blown any chance with her by signing that paperwork today.”
“I’m not looking for achancewith her, but I also don’t want to explain myself or my personal life. We should stick to strictly business. It will make it easier for all of us.”
Michael exhaled like he was relieved. “Okay, sounds good.”
I clapped him on the back. “Andiamo. I want to get my people settled and you have a dinner party to manage.”
The next morning, desperate for a cappuccino, I took one of the guards and drove into town at daybreak.
Even at home, I didn’t sleep much. I had a difficult time shutting off my brain at night, and sleeping late proved impossible. This morning was worse. With unfamiliar surroundings, and no curtains or blinds on the cottage windows, I woke up as soon as the purple wisps of dawn broke free.
The house needed modifications, including an alarm system. I’d see to that today.
Tommaso pulled the car into the lot of a café. The Leaning Tower of Pastries.Madre di dio,these Americans. No respect for my country at all.
“Want me to go in for you?” Tommaso asked.
“Not necessary. I’ll bring you back something.”
“Grazie, Don D’Agostino.” He closed his eyes and rested his head against the seat.
I didn’t feel badly about getting him out of bed. My men worked for me, not the other way around. I exited the car and buttoned my overcoat as a feeble defense against the cold air. It helped only slightly. Thankfully, the café was empty, having opened only five minutes ago.
A young woman behind the counter slid a tray of croissants into the display case. She had dark hair and a nose ring through one nostril. “Good morning. How can I help you?”
“Buongiorno,” I said. “May I have four cappuccinos, per favore?”
“Sure. Small or large?”
“Large.”
“That’ll just take a minute. Did you want anything to eat?”
Removing my gloves, I looked at the half-full display case. “Do you have any rolls?”
“Like, cinnamon rolls?”
Christ, no. “I’ll take plain croissants and biscotti, if you have it.”
“We do.” Over her shoulder, she called, “Gram, shake a leg back there!”
“Okay! Keep your shirt on,” a female voice said from somewhere.
Wandering away from the counter, I took out my mobile and began checking messages. Several emails awaited from partners overseas, so I responded as necessary, quickly and efficiently. These were from my legitimate business interests. I didn’t handle criminal activity electronically, except with a specially encrypted laptop back at the cottage. Enzo paid computer hackers a fortune to ensure all our equipment remained safe.
“Well, hello there. You’re new to town, aren’t you?”