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CHAPTER 10
G iulia
When Matteo said we were going to his cousin’s vineyard for lunch, I conjured up images of us driving along a dirt road to a rustic farmhouse set among the grapevines. I thought there would be a little patio with a wooden table where we’d have lunch while looking out over ramshackle barns where the wine was stored. The picture in my head included flowers around the front door and a cat sunning itself on the window ledge. I guess it was a rose-tinted vision.
Perhaps in a bygone era this place was full of old-world charm, but now it’s a monument to modernity. An asphalt road that’s so smooth it has to have been laid recently leads up to a magnificent building that commands attention from miles around. Its sides are a sandy brick, and its roof is black slate. The entire front of the building is a wall of glass. It’s nothing like I expected yet it fits the landscape perfectly.
Matteo parks his car in the large visitors’ lot at the side of the building and switches off the engine. There must be fifty or more cars here. Perhaps the winery offers tours, or something.
“There’s Lorenzo.” Matteo nods his head toward the man sauntering toward us like he hasn’t a care in the world.
His cousin isn’t at all what I expected. While Damiano has been impeccably dressed in three-piece suits each time I’ve seen him, Lorenzo has opted for casual beige shorts and a white polo shirt that accentuates his tan. He’s wearing white tennis shoes without socks. His light brown hair is tousled, like he couldn’t be bothered to comb it. In reality, he probably spent ages getting it just right.
Grinning broadly as we get out of the car, he exudes warmth and friendliness. Nothing about him says notorious mobster , but I don’t suppose he’d have his kill count tattooed on his forehead. His genial manner probably makes him especially dangerous. Nobody would see him coming.
He opens his arms wide and then rests his hands on my shoulders.
“You must be the delightful Giulia.”
“She is.”
Matteo’s growl would make other men back off, but Lorenzo ignores him and kisses me on each cheek as a greeting.
“Hands off.”
Lorenzo just laughs and then reaches for his cousin to hug him. “Matteo. Welcome to Casa di Lupo.”
“House of the Wolf?” I query out loud.
“It was the name of the house that stood here before,” Lorenzo explains. “There were many rumors about the family who lived here for hundreds of years. Some say they were descended from wolves.”
While I don’t believe that for one second, it seems apt that Lorenzo would end up owning the property. His reputation is that of a dangerous predator. I don’t dare say that to him, though. He seems affable enough, but people don’t tremble in fear whenever someone utters the name of a nice guy.
“Is Damiano here yet?” Matteo comes and stakes his claim by putting his arm around my waist.
“No. Your sister had something to take care of. They’re running a little late.” He smirks as he glances down at Matteo’s hand resting on my hip. He offers me his arm and despite Matteo’s warning snarl, I loop mine through it. “Come, bella . Let me give you the tour while we wait.”
Lorenzo leads me, with Matteo hot on our heels, around to the back of the building. There’s an incredible view over the vineyard in the valley below. He points out a massive warehouse in the distance.
“That’s where we make the wine. If you’re interested, Giulia, I will take you down there after lunch and show you what we do.”
“I’d like that.”
Matteo rolls his eyes as I smile at Lorenzo. He doesn’t seem to be truly annoyed by my interactions with his cousin. The slight upturn of his lips and the glint in his eye tell me he’s actually amused.
The Italian steers me around to the front of the building and in through the sliding glass doors. We enter a vast, open space, flooded with light. Dozens of people are milling about. It takes me a moment to realize we’ve entered a store. There are shelves along the side walls and tables display various goods for sale.
“We like to support local artisans.” Lorenzo lets go of my arm and I wander around, looking at the various food and drink products, high-end craft items, and merchandise bearing the winery’s logo. It’s a black-and-white image of a wolf howling at the moon. Not the most original design concept, perhaps, but it lets you know exactly what brand you’re buying.
“This is fantastic,” I tell Lorenzo.
He nods, pleased with my approval.
“Through there is our wine store.” He points to a glass door to the left and then directs my attention to an opening in the wall at the back of the space. “And there is our coffee shop and restaurant.”
As he walks in that direction, Matteo reclaims me by slinging an arm over my shoulder. We follow Lorenzo into a bustling coffee shop. It’s bright and modern, with a polished pine floor and dozens of metal tables and chairs. Lorenzo veers to the left, and we walk through an archway into a more formal restaurant space. There’s seating for about a hundred people at the large wooden tables that fill the center of the space, and a hundred more in the booths that run around the edge of the restaurant. The place is huge, but there are only a few tables occupied. I hear several voices speaking in English, so I guess these are tourists.
We head for a booth by one of the large glass windows. It’s set for six people.
“I hope you don’t mind if we eat here,” Lorenzo says. “We have private dining spaces, but I prefer to be out here in the open. I like to see people enjoying the facilities.”
“This is perfect.”
“Giulia’s been hoping for an authentic Tuscan dining experience.” Matteo flashes me a cheeky wink. “She found Damiano’s restaurant in Florence disappointing.”
“Oh?” Lorenzo queries. “Was the food not to your satisfaction?”
“The food was delicious.” I shoot a glare at Matteo. “The company was lacking.”
Lorenzo laughs. “Ah, then it is good my cousin has brought you here. You will not be disappointed by our company.”
Before either Matteo or I can respond to that, a broad grin splits Lorenzo’s face. “Ah, here is my brother now.”
Damiano strolls toward us, wearing his signature tailored suit, but without a vest this time. He has dark glasses on, but removes them to reveal his gorgeous brown eyes as he gets closer. Livvy is at his side, exuding glamor in a pair of black wide-legged pants and a white chiffon top. With her six-inch heels, dark glasses, and crimson lipstick, she looks like a femme fatale. She’s carrying a purse someone like me wouldn’t be able to buy, not just because of its outrageous price tag, but because of its exclusivity. I guess the Volante name carries influence in the fashion world as well as everywhere else.
I’m glad I caved to Matteo’s demands to change out of my jean shorts, even though I’m still pissed that it was because he didn’t want other men to get a good view of my ass. The floral sundress I chose isn’t as elegant as Livvy’s outfit, but I feel good in it.
Matteo greets Damiano with a man hug that lasts all of two seconds before pulling his sister in for a more affectionate embrace. He ruffles her hair, drawing a protest from her. As she smooths down her hair, the corners of her lips twitch. I think she secretly likes that her older brother is playful with her. He’s the only one of the Volante males who openly shows his love for her.
“Giulia!” Damiano kisses my cheek, then steps back to brazenly run his eyes up and down the length of my body. If anyone else looked at me that way, Matteo would punch them in the face. He doesn’t seem to mind his cousins showing their appreciation for my physical attributes. I guess that’s a testament to his trust in them. “ Bellissima .”
“You don’t look so bad yourself.” It’s a total understatement, but I don’t want to test the limits of Matteo’s tolerance by gushing about Damiano’s hotness. He’s behaving himself for now, but I doubt that would last if he thought there was any serious flirting going on. I turn to Livvy. “And you look stunning.”
“Thanks,” Livvy murmurs. “Your dress is nice.”
Her tone is unconvincing, but I’ll take a half-hearted compliment over open hostility any day of the week.
“Shall we sit?” Lorenzo asks.
Matteo ushers me onto the banquette at one side of the booth. The seats are padded in the softest leather I’ve ever sat on. He sits next to me while Damiano and Lorenzo flank Livvy on the opposite side of the table. I’m not sure if they’re being protective or preventing her from fleeing. She certainly doesn’t look comfortable.
A young server rushes over with a couple of bottles of wine. She and Lorenzo speak in rapid Italian. I don’t know what’s said in their brief exchange, but the girl seems flustered. Her cheeks redden and she nods repeatedly. From the coy way she peers at her boss from beneath her eyelashes, I’d say she has a crush on him. I can’t say I blame her. Both the Italian and American branches of the Volante family have been blessed with stunningly handsome features.
“This is our latest endeavor.” Lorenzo holds up the bottle. “A Pinot Grigio. It’s a particular favorite of mine for a light lunch.” He pours us each a glass of wine and smiles at me. “Giulia, please tell me what you think.”
Hesitantly, I raise my glass. Despite my heritage, I’m not much of a wine drinker. I sip the wine. It’s cool and crisp. “Oh, it’s nice.”
Lorenzo throws back his head and laughs. “Ah, Giulia, such a harsh critic. My people sweat over that wine for years and you call it nice.”
“Sorry,” I mutter. “I don’t know a lot about wine.”
Lorenzo makes a gesture with his hands that tells me it doesn’t matter. I’m relieved of my embarrassment as the first course arrives. It’s a Caprese salad. The tomato is sliced thinly, but the mozzarella has been torn and dotted around the plate. The basil appears to have been scattered in a haphazard fashion, but I imagine it’s been placed carefully to give a rustic look to the dish.
As everyone digs in, I spear a piece of mozzarella with my fork. It’s so creamy, unlike anything I’ve tasted before.
“This is delicious.”
“ Grazie .” Lorenzo flashes me his killer smile again. “I make the mozzarella myself.”
My eyebrows lift in an outward expression of my surprise.
“Ah,” Lorenzo says, “you wonder how I can produce wine, make mozzarella worthy of the gods, and still help my brothers rule over our little part of Italy.”
The little part of Italy his family rules over stretches from the northernmost tip of the country to somewhere south of Rome, so he’s downplaying their influence. Though I was, in fact, wondering how he finds enough hours in the day, I shake my head in denial. “Of course not.”
“The key is a strong family, where everyone knows their place,” Lorenzo tells me anyway. “Matteo will agree that nothing is more important.”
The three men raise their glasses of wine and toast to that. Livvy and I exchange a look, both jarred by the comment about everyone knowing their place. Was that directed at us?
“Do you have a big family, Giulia?” Damiano asks.
“I have a half-brother.” I love him as much as I would a real brother, but I don’t explain that to Damiano.
“Is he part of the Volante Famiglia ?”
“He was inducted three months ago.”
Damiano nods approvingly. If Matteo’s surprised I know about Phillip being inducted into the organization, he doesn’t let it show. My brother has never hidden his aspirations to rise through the ranks of the mafia from me. I’m not entirely happy about his choice, but at eighteen he doesn’t listen to me. He wants to make his own way in the world.
“Phil’s a boxer,” Matteo says. “Could be one of our best fighters with a little more training.”
My involuntary wince doesn’t go unnoticed. I get the impression these men see everything.
“You disapprove?” Lorenzo asks.
“I don’t enjoy boxing, but Phillip has a talent for it. I won’t stand in the way of him following his passion.”
“Ah, yes, we must all follow our passions.” Lorenzo gestures to the room, indicating that this place is a labor of love for him. “Life would be so dull otherwise.”
“What is your passion, Giulia?” Damiano asks.
“I like to help people.”
Livvy scoffs. It’s the first sound she’s made since we sat down. She’s just been poking at her salad with her fork as though it’s offended her somehow. I know my response sounded trite, but I really do care about helping people.
“Giulia’s building a community center for the wives and children of our soldiers.” There’s an unmistakable note of pride in Matteo’s voice. That surprises me. I didn’t know he knew much about my project, or that he approves of it.
“A community center?” Lorenzo fixes me with a challenging stare. He suddenly seems less friendly than he did before. “For what purpose?”
Under his intense scrutiny, I swallow hard. I’d hate to be interrogated by this man. He wouldn’t have to resort to torture for me to reveal all my secrets. “I want to give women a place to get support with education and healthcare, things like that.”
“You don’t think it’s the job of their husbands to provide such support?”
“Ideally, yes, but many women don’t get what they need at home.”
“So you believe it’s your place to help?” This question comes from Damiano. His tone is more hostile than I’ve heard from him so far. I definitely feel as if I’m being put under a spotlight.
“It’s something I want to do.” I take a deep breath, determined to stand my ground in the face of the intimidating glares of the brothers. “You men choose this life. Women rarely realize what they’re getting into with their marriages and the children certainly don’t.”
Damiano and Lorenzo exchange a glance. I don’t know what passes between them, but Lorenzo nods decisively.
“You are most definitely passionate about your cause.” Lorenzo raises his glass. “I wish you every success, Giulia.”
“As do I,” Damiano adds with a smile.
Matteo squeezes my knee under the table. I glance at him and he nods approvingly. I guess I passed some sort of test. Now perhaps I can relax and enjoy this incredible lunch.