Page 38 of Last Breath (Blood Wine Dynasty #2)

Nella

‘Ms Barbarani, can you confirm your brother Luca is the father of Divya’s baby?’

‘Nella! Nella! Is it true your grandfather stole the sangue recipe from his nemesis, Antonio La Marca?’

‘What do you have to say about the claims Matteo La Marca has made about your inability to win this lawsuit?’

‘Can you tell us if the police are treating the death of your old family lawyer as suspicious?’

‘Ms Barbarani, are you aware of the evidence the La Marca lawyers have against you? Do you really think you’re a match for them?’

Tom had always wanted to build their own runway on the property, instead of renting this shared hangar. Now she wished she’d let him do it instead of calling him a pretentious diva.

The press were unavoidable as she made her way from the back of Max’s Hyundai to the inside of the hangar, because it was technically public property. If they so much as breathed over the Barbaranis’ private jet, that would be another story.

Speaking of jets – where was he? The more they delayed the flight to Milan, the more likely it was that Ariana was going to freak out, change her mind and jump off the plane. Nella should have made Daisy tie her down.

She’d debated back and forth about bringing Daisy – the more people involved in this, the more complicated, which was a euphemism for the more potential unmarked graves for Matteo La Marca to dig.

But her plan was to keep Daisy focused on going through Clarkson’s notes and voice memos, to see if there was anything they’d missed.

Anything that could have them turn this plane around and go home with no need to drag their La Marca prisoner into the Northern Hemisphere.

Was Jett deliberately delaying? Or had Matteo decided Luca as collateral wasn’t enough? No, he wouldn’t take Jett. In Matteo’s eyes, he was the help, not hostage-level value.

She didn’t want to think about Clarkson’s office, or the car, the church, or everything that had happened in her head last night. Surely he knew this superseded whatever was going on between them?

A slippery feeling, like a dying fish, was flapping inside her at the thought that their kiss might be what pushed him over the edge to leave for good. Before she got the chance to convince him otherwise.

She shoved the feeling deeper; her emotions would not rule her.

If she was going to be strong, if she was going to win this case, she had to bury that crap underground in an unmarked grave.

It was a skill she’d had to learn early on, since she first told her dad she didn’t want his money and she was going to apply for a university loan and pay her own way through law school.

It was like how athletes primed their bodies with BCAAs and cut out refined sugars and alcohol ahead of an event.

Nella learnt to drain emotion so she could win.

‘I can’t believe the La Marca princess is actually here. He let her come,’ Nella said to Max as she dragged her Prada suitcase across the tarmac, ignoring the journalists’ shouted questions.

‘I still don’t like it,’ Max said, coiling a strand of dark hair around her finger. ‘You know the La Marcas better than me, but Matteo doesn’t seem like the type to hand you the key to his kingdom, and especially not when there’s a potential monster locked up inside with the power to destroy him.’

‘I don’t know what we’ll find in the Lake Orta house.’ Nella chewed her lip. Every movement around them had her whipping her head to see if it was Jett. Where was he?

‘Hope it’s worth it,’ Max said, and Nella felt the ice chip in her voice. Her mind tumbled back to the hunch of Luca’s shoulders as Raphael had herded him roughly into the back of one of Matteo’s luxury cars.

‘Nella, about ...’ Max trailed off as Daisy poked her pink curls out from the doorway at the top of the stairs.

‘The pilot’s saying we need to get going.’ She looked at them apprehensively. ‘Didn’t you say your chauffeur was coming? What about Tomaso?’

‘I don’t know where Jett is.’ Nella fought to keep her voice neutral; she could feel Max’s gaze on her. ‘Tom’s staying to do Luca damage control. The only good thing about Luca being Matteo’s prisoner swap for Ariana is that it’ll stop Tom from murdering him.’

‘Nella.’ Daisy bent towards her, voice lowered. ‘Is that blonde girl I’m sitting next to Ariana La Marca ?’

‘Yep,’ Nella said brightly.

‘Oh, okay ... I just.’ Daisy bit her lip. ‘I didn’t realise you were friendly. I thought the Barbaranis and the La Marcas were ...’

‘Mortal enemies?’ A voice came from behind. ‘Like the Montagues and the Capulets? The Malfoys and the Weasleys? Ernst Stavro Blofeld and James Bond? Katy Perry and Taylor Swift?’

‘Katy and Taylor are friends now,’ Nella corrected Jett before turning around, her heart buoying in a way it should not at the sound of a friend.

Thankfully she spoke before she turned, because when she did turn, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to form a coherent sentence.

Jett was standing a metre away with a grey duffel bag slung over his shoulder, his bottom half covered in a tight, black wetsuit and his top half, well ... not.

Dark bronzed skin glistened over ridiculously firm muscles.

Nella tried not to think about how that chest and those arms had felt in Clarkson’s office.

But feeling them had been one thing; seeing them now felt like an absolute joke.

And her drooling reaction to his half-naked body was the punch line.

Nella’s only saving grace was the fact that the other women’s jaws hit the tarmac at the same time as hers and were showing no signs of coming up.

‘Eyes up, ladies.’ A voice Nella had not expected chastised her out of her stupor as Detective Noah Avery appeared from Bessy’s passenger side.

Jett apparently couldn’t sense the crackling estrogen in the air or realise Avery’s uninvited presence deserved an explanation, simply nodding at Max and giving Daisy a look that Nella didn’t understand, because Jett and Daisy didn’t know each other.

Was Daisy staring too much at him and he found it weird?

Or worse, was Daisy staring too much at him and he liked it?

Either way, he strolled past, ignoring Nella completely.

‘We’re going to Milan, not the Maldives.’ Daisy rolled her eyes at his wetsuit as Jett took the stairs two at a time.

‘What the hell’s going on?’ Nella rounded on Avery to ensure she got an answer. Cops were legally bound to answer you truthfully, right?

‘I ran into Jett in town.’ Avery shifted his weight from foot to foot like a toddler lying about eating the last biscuit. ‘He was running late, so I offered to drive him in his car. I’ll take it back and give it to your brother.’

‘Hmm.’ Bullshit. Jett never ran late. He was a fucking Tokyo train. What had they been doing?

‘Ms Barbarani?’ The pilot – Jarls – stood at the top of the stairs. ‘We really must be going now.’

‘Is your fiancée okay?’ Nella couldn’t help asking as Avery bent under Bessy’s boot, fiddling with something out of sight.

His broad shoulders tensed. ‘Doing better. I’ll let her know you asked.’ He slammed the boot, a twelve-pack of chilled chinotto Nella had forgotten to remind Jett to bring (she never travelled without a supply of the bitter Italian soft drink) now under Avery’s arm.

‘Don’t do that,’ Nella grumbled, gratefully accepting the chinotto. ‘Any mention of me is bound to undo any healing progress.’

The pilot cleared his throat. ‘Ms Barbarani, I must insist.’

‘Sorry, Jarls. Thanks, Avery.’ She wasn’t sure what she was thanking the cop for – the chinotto or for bringing Jett before he missed the flight.

She couldn’t help thinking, from the way her body reacted to the sight of his bare chest – and from the literal cold, wet shoulder he’d given her – maybe Jett missing the plane would have been for the best.

‘Nella.’ Max grabbed her wrist as she started up the stairs, her voice low and deadly. Nella could barely hear her over the roar of Bessy’s engine. ‘I know this is hideous timing but ... Forrest?’

Nella blinked, guilt swarming inside of her for continuing to push Max and the Forrest case down her list of priorities.

How many friendship challenges had she broken by being single-minded and selfish?

Grey’s comment last night (well, technically this morning) had helped her see more clearly – her friendship with him and Max was important, special. She could not take it for granted.

She gripped Max’s hand in a silent apology and, just like that, as she caught the rapid movement of the swarm of journalists in the corner of her eye, a plan formed.

‘Leave it with me and Daisy. I won’t let you down.’

Once they were in the air, Jett slunk off to the bathroom, giving Nella the breathing room she needed to get her head straight.

With a glance at Ariana to make sure she wasn’t buckling into a parachute ready to escape, Nella plonked herself next to Daisy, who was busy sectioning Clarkson’s Boogie Board app notes into her own colour-coded categories.

‘Take a break.’ Nella handed her a chinotto.

‘What’s this?’

‘It’s like Italian Coca Cola.’

Daisy took a sip and made a face like those babies in the viral ‘lemon-tasting’ reels.

‘It’s an acquired taste,’ Nella said, ripping her gaze away from the closed bathroom door. ‘I have an idea for how to get’—she looked over at Ariana, who was sipping her own chinotto—‘ you know who ... convicted of the poisoning murders.’

Daisy’s eyes widened. ‘Go on.’

‘Luca gave me the idea – well, Luca’s baby mama’s announcement. Forrest’s never going to willingly hand over DNA, and if he or the La Marcas get a whiff that they’ve found DNA on the victims, then it will be impossible to get something off him without him knowing.’

‘Plus it wouldn’t hold up in court.’