‘Platinum.’
The emeralds were amazing—the size of robins’ eggs, they sparkled and beguiled. They were so beautiful that even their image made Matteo reach out to run his finger over the stones. ‘We thought it was just a tale that you told, that they were some old coins or something.’
‘So you do remember!’
Matteo conceded that he did with a half smile. ‘Yes, I remember you telling us your tale.’ He let out a low whistle as he looked at the necklace again. ‘This would be worth...’ Usually he could pick this sort of thing but in this instance he really didn’t know. ‘Millions?’ he loosely gauged.
‘And some.’
‘Who’s the designer?’ he asked. ‘What jewellery house...?’
‘Unknown,’ Giovanni quickly said and Matteo frowned because surely a piece of jewellery as exquisite as this would have some considerable history attached.
‘Is this how you got your start?’ he asked. He could see it a little more clearly. Di Sione had started as a shipping empire but now the name was global. If Giovanni had sold pieces as exquisite as this one, then Matteo could see how it might have transpired. Yet, how could a young man from Sicily come to be in possession of this?
Giovanni was less than forthcoming, though, when Matteo pushed for answers.
‘I just want you to find it for me,’ Giovanni said. ‘I don’t know where to start. I sold it to a man named Roche some sixty years ago. Since then it’s been sold on.’ Matteo could see that his grandfather was getting distressed and knew that this necklace really meant something to him.
‘How did you come to own this?’ he asked again.
‘Don’t ask me how I came by them, for an old man must have his secrets...’ Giovanni said and Matteo gave another half smile.
Now the tale of old made a bit more sense.
‘Matteo, I want that necklace. Whatever it takes. Can you find it and bring it to me?’
He looked over to his grandfather.
How he wished he could open up and tell the old man that he meant something to him, that he understood how hard the years had been on him. But Matteo was incapable of giving anyone more than a loan of that smile or body. His mind was a closed door.
So instead he nodded.
This he could do.
‘You know that I shall.’
Giovanni got out of his chair and walked over to Matteo and wrapped his grandson in an embrace, something Giovanni wished he had done more of all those years ago.
Just for a moment, Matteo let himself be held, but then he pulled back.
‘Come on, then,’ he said, pocketing the picture in his jacket.
‘Where?’
‘Your club,’ Matteo said and rattled his keys but then he changed his mind.
His grandfather was dying.
There was no way that he’d be driving today.
Giovanni called for his driver.
CHAPTER ONE
MATTEO DIDN’T LIKE HIM.
Not that it showed in his expression.