I ask him to put the University on our list of organizations we’ll support, but I stress that a check won’t be going out quite yet. I’m the only one with the playbook in my head how to make sure Conti give us what we need. But the dean will see his money eventually. It’s the least I can do for that preview of Juliet.
Besides, a check showing up at the university at the wrong time would not be beneficial to me, or to Conti. Today, we’re just getting the lay of the land, should we have to resort to our back-up plan. I’m not normally one to kidnap women, but drastic times call for drastic measures if need be.
“Once we have the Port of Civitavecchia agreement enforced, we’ll be able to ramp up the quotas on everything. This is huge.” I almost smile. This is my life, my entire life. I live to work, and I work to live. I also love a great Italian red wine and a good fucking lay whenever the mood hits.
Riccardo tosses his head back as he drops another piece of prosciutto into his mouth and lets out a hearty chuckle.
“What?”
“You almost broke a smile.” He accuses me of something he knows I rarely do.
“Hmm, maybe,” I acknowledge, but he doesn’t know that as much as I’m excited about brokering an easy deal with the Conti family, I’m still thinking about the vixen at the school.
Juliet totally oozed sex appeal without even trying. She had no idea the way the low-cut sundress was showing off her firm breasts and sun-kissed shoulders, or that the light breeze was lifting the hem of her dress and teasing me with peeks at her long legs, toned from walking or possibly the gym. She couldn’t have walked far from campus today, not wearing those wedge heels.
Her whole vibe came across as classy, mature, but shy. The only makeup she wore was lipstick and with her natural beauty, it’s all she needed. It makes my cock eager for some pussy as I sit here remembering every detail. I find her sexier than fuck, and one way or another, I will have her. I always get what I want.
We finish lunch with an espresso before making our way to the accountant. He’s more of a money launderer than an accountant. He tells me everything is in order and I’m relieved that no one is dipping their hand into my pocket, so the home front is happy. I have to be accountable to my family.
After leaving the accountant, Riccardo drives us along Via dei Calzaiuoli where all the upscale shops are located, where the women love to shop for designer purses, shoes, and anything else they can buy with their wealthy old husband’s money.
Today is no different. Women buzz in and out of shops while their husbands sit at outdoor cafés sipping thick Italian wine and enjoying the ambiance of the city streets with sounds of an ambulance siren or the bells of the duomo in the background.
We arrive at our meeting and I leave the Range Rover to drive my Mercedes home. Riccardo follows me as we snake our way up the hill to Viale Augusto Righi and into the Piazza Mino da Fiesole. We don’t have any more pressing business left for today and I’ll be home in time to enjoy a dip in the pool before dinner.
I glance over at my favorite place to eat on the corner of the piazza before proceeding up another hill to where my mansion awaits. It’s a winding road that can be treacherous in winter if there is ice on the road.
Riccardo pulls up beside me at the large Tuscan estate and walks ahead of me to open my front door. He clears the house as I head to the kitchen pulling a chilled Moretti Beer out of the refrigerator. The night guards are already on the property, and once Riccardo is satisfied that the house is secure and the video feeds are working as they should be, he leaves for the night.
Alone in the house, my mind drifts back to Juliet, her delicate eyes haunting me. Her unassuming innocence and lightness were in stark contrast to the darkness of her hair, so dark it shone. If it were a moonless night, I’d never find her. I can tell by her dark olive complexion that she’s not a typical Tuscan. Is it possible that she knows she’s not who she thinks she is?
Why do I care one way or the other, anyway?
I don’t relish meeting my grandfather’s and father’s nemesis tomorrow, but the meet has to take place as I have big plans and he’s the lynchpin. I need the port he controls to fulfill our projections that were made two years ago, projections we made with control of the port factored in.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and step onto my patio overlooking an infinity pool that cost more than most homes down the hill in Florence. I see that the maid has put pillows on the lounge chair and decide to sit and kick my shoes off and enjoy the late afternoon.
Beer in one hand, phone in the other, I decide to text Alessia. She’s a sure thing who won’t mind that I’m calling her for a night of pleasure.
She texts me back right away, as if she’s been waiting all day for me to get in touch with her. It must be tough to have so much money that your daily mission is blowing your monthly allowance and waiting for texts from a random guy.
We met years ago at a club, and while I don’t go clubbing as much as I used to, she’s one fling that continues to come and go over the years. Maybe she’s waiting for me to change my mind, I don’t know. Not my problem.
Not keeping a woman around for too long is my best chance to avoid emotional involvement. I can’t share the details of my life with anyone and so I don’t allow anyone to get close to me. It’s the best way to keep the organization off the radar. Even if someone gets caught, they wouldn’t know enough to give the police substantial evidence to any crimes.
She knows the rules. One sign that she’s into me too much and she’ll get her walking papers, just like the countless women who came before her.
4
Juliet
On our way back to the university, we have to deal with the summers sea of tourists meandering everywhere. Sometimes the sidewalks are so packed that people take to the streets but it’s a recipe for disaster. The only time of year we don’t have to contend with crowds is December to February, when it’s rainy, windy, and can be frigid as fuck.
Ava and I happen to be walking too close to the street when I hear a motorcycle coming. The driver isn’t paying attention to how close he is, so I quickly yank her out of the way.
“Sheesh, Ava,” I scold her, “What the hell? You almost got hit.”
“Thanks, I guess I wasn’t paying attention,” she says, still shaking a bit from the close encounter.