Page 60 of Rio (Knight Empire #3)

Two weeks later ...

RIO

“This is a lovely hotel,” Raquel says, gazing around in awe at the landscaped grounds.

We’ve arrived early at the Casa Adriana, in Verona. I was supposed to meet with Nico Cazale months ago, before the old man sent me to Belize. I have a proposal for him which would benefit both of us, and he’d be smart to take it.

“Not bad.” I look around, taking in the manicured gardens dotted with lemon trees, a central fountain sparkling in the sunlight, and wide terraces shaded by striped awnings. It’s quiet here, and refined, every stone, every flowerbed, is placed with intent.

Nico Cazale is the king of the luxury hotel empire.

He has a portfolio of high-end, upscale, boutique hotels.

Nothing gaudy or commercial. Allegedly, a stay at one of his hotels promises relaxation, peace, privacy and indulgence.

I’ve read the write-ups in luxury travel magazines.

They’re glowing. I hope he agrees to the deal, because it will be good for both of us.

We walk inside, across the black-and-white marble-tiled floor, which gleams under the soft lighting. A receptionist at the front desk looks up and smiles warmly as we head towards her.

“What will you do?” I ask Raquel, stopping beneath an enormous crystal chandelier that sparkles in the sunlight streaming through the tall windows.

It’s been two weeks since the old man’s health scare. He’s now at home, getting rest. I wouldn’t say it’s brought us, the brothers, closer to him, but we take turns visiting him at his penthouse. There are no Knight family dinners, for now. That’s one advantage.

When he was told about his kidney disease, he didn’t show fear.

He demanded every possible treatment option, grilled the doctors like they were under a corporate audit, and refused to acknowledge weakness.

If anything, the diagnosis made him more determined to exert control, as if sheer will could outpace the limits of his own body.

He scared us, but he also made us realize the old man is fallible. He’s just a mere human—not the god he likes to think he is.

He’s fine now, but the doctors have advised us that he needs ongoing kidney treatment.

He now has a private butler tending to his needs, a private nurse, and the usual housekeeper, chef, and cleaning staff who keep his personal life ticking over.

It’s not easy to warm to him, even now, while he sits on his recliner, reading papers and documents, still trying to stay up to speed with everything at the office. Trying to keep his watch over everything.

He hasn’t changed one bit, not really. Every day he’s getting stronger, and that usual hard, unforgiving streak is back.

“I’ll just walk around the grounds. They look spectacular.”

“You sure?” Her color and vivacity are back. After four interviews with Kingston Mansell, they offered her the job. She starts in two weeks. She’s perfect for it, and I couldn’t be more happier or more proud of her.

We’re here in Italy for a week—for this meeting in Verona, but also for a long overdue visit to see Mama.

I want her to meet Raquel. She’s the first, and only, woman I’ll take to meet her.

I think Mama will love Raquel as much as I do.

It’s not just so that the two most precious women in the world to me can meet.

There’s another reason. I wanted to tell her in person about the old man.

Matteo, Enzo and I all agreed that it wasn’t something we could tell her over the phone.

“I’m sure. Look at these beautiful gardens, Rio. A world away from a law office.”

I cup her face. “I won’t be long. Mama’s expecting us for lunch.”

“I can’t wait.” She presses a kiss and we part ways.

I head towards the reception desk. “Rio Knight, here to see Nico Cazale.”

“Good Morning, Mr. Knight. Mr. Cazale is waiting for you. This way, please.”

She leads me to his office. The door is open, and sitting at his desk is a smartly dressed man.

He rises as soon as he sees me. “Please, come in.”

I walk into the office. The first thing I notice is a picture of a distinguished-looking man right above Mr. Cazale’s desk. I’m guessing it’s his father, because I can see the resemblance so clearly.

He shakes my hand firmly, and I automatically try to place his age. His salt-and-pepper hair, greying mostly around the ears and speckled in his dark head of hair, makes me think he’s in his late forties or early fifties.

“Please, take a seat.”

“Good to finally meet. I know we were meant to meet a few months ago, but business called and I had to deal with something.”

“I understand. We’re all busy, are we not?”

“We certainly are, Mr. Caz—”

“Nico,” he says. “Call me Nico.”

“It’s not about age, it’s just a sign of respect.”

He nods.

The reason I’m here is because Nico Cazale has a portfolio of some beautiful hotels—mostly boutique, very gorgeous properties scattered around Italy.

I’ve examined the brochures in detail, and the particulars of his business empire.

That’s how I discovered work has started on his flagship Amalfi hotel, and that there is limited land to expand outward.

Knight Enterprises recently acquired adjacent waterfront properties and land that could complement the hotel without competing against it.

I already knew about the Cazale empire before this recent acquisition, but it was the perfect opportunity for me to approach him with a plan.

What I proposed would also enable Knight Enterprises to get a foot in the door of a world-famous hotel brand.

After all, why would Knight Enterprises open their own luxury brand of hotels in Amalfi when the Cazale empire is already set up?

Knight Enterprises could contribute the land and development expertise.

Although I’m pretty sure this guy has a solid development team behind him, he’d bring brand prestige and local connections.

We’d back it with serious money. He’s rich. But not Knight-level rich.

“You read over my proposal?” I say. I put something together and then refined it with Raquel’s help.

He inhales before resting back against his chair, arms casually placed on the armrest. “Tell me why I should work with you. You’re based in America.

I live in Italy. I was born and bred in Verona.

Our prestigious luxury hotel brand has been around for forty years.

Italy is ours to conquer. Why would I need you?

” He smiles, like he doesn’t need this. Like it wouldn’t make any difference to his wealth or portfolio.

“Good point. Look, Nico, I’m not here to compete with you. I’m here to make you an offer you probably won’t get from anyone else.”

He chuckles. “I must say, you’re very confident. But I was like you once—confident, maybe bordering on arrogance. I thought I could do it all, have it all. I thought the world was my oyster.”

“Was it? Is it?”

“Yes. Now it is, but not in the way I thought when I was younger.”

“You’re married,” I state, seeing the ring on his finger.

“I am.”

“Nice.”

“Sometimes fate brings you not what you want, but what you need. I was a playboy—”

“I’m not a playboy.”

“No, but like I said, it brings you what you need and not always what you want. I think I would have drifted. I was an only child. I had money. Not earned by me—by my father. I inherited all this from him.” He waves his hand around the room.

“Is that him?” I nod at the picture of the distinguished-looking gentleman behind him.

“Yes. That is my beloved father, Edmondo Cazale. Not a day goes by when I don’t think of him.

” His voice softens, his eyes turn shiny.

“My father built the family business from scratch. He did all the hard work, and I simply inherited it. But there were a lot of personal lessons to learn along the way.”

“And you … learned them?” I’m eager to hear what exactly he learned. What price he had to pay.

“I did, but not without pain and loss and suffering. But life rewarded me with riches that weren’t monetary. That is why I consider myself to be blessed. Lucky.”

It begins to dawn on me that feeling blessed and rich has nothing to do with money. It’s about who you share your life with, the people who stand beside you when the bottom drops out, the rare moments that matter more than the numbers in your accounts.

“That’s rare,” I say. It’s extremely rare coming from the world I know, for a business man to say that.

“Knight Enterprises—your father built it from nothing.”

“You’ve done your homework.”

“And your father, he still guides you and mentors you?” Nico asks.

Still?

Nothing of the sort. I pause. “He’s still around,” I say, feeling bittersweet and conflicted.

How do I describe Paul Knight? Nico must sense my unease because I don’t smile—not the way he smiled when he spoke of his father so fondly.

I have nothing to say because I’m trying to choose my words carefully. It’s impossible to speak warmly of Paul Knight, despite his health scare, and even now that he’s come home and is recovering.

“My father is a complicated man,” I say carefully.

“So I’ve heard.”

He looks at me, and I wonder what exactly he knows. His eyes narrow, like he’s seeing inside me and understands what I can’t articulate.

“The people we meet in life always teach us something.”

Hell, he’s profound.

I rake a hand through my hair. “Maybe. I’ve learned that people can surprise you—for better or worse. And that sometimes, the right person can make you see everything differently.”

“I don’t take anything I have for granted. And neither do you, I suspect.”

“Not anymore.”

We sit silently for a few seconds, mulling things over. I’m intrigued and want to know more about him. I wonder what he’s thinking.

“Regarding your offer,” he says, finally. “I’ve been thinking about it. I still am. I can see ways that we could work together, but I want to keep full brand control.”

“Absolutely. It would be low risk for you, not to mention highly beneficial.”