A latte?
Most likely the coffee will be cold by the time she drinks it, but it’s the thought and effort that counts. She has to give me points for the attempt.
And she owes me an apology. No one can do what she did and live, unless we deem it to be so. Her life is in my hands first, and Dante’s second. If Dante had his way, he’d send a message, but because she’s a woman and one who is strangely connected by name, it muddies the water.
I get that.
I throw the covers over my bed instead of making it look like a show room. I wish I was more of a neat freak, but I just don’t have it in me. The housekeeper who comes by weekly can make things clean and pretty.
On the way to the kitchen, I open the French doors overlooking the Tuscan hills dotted with olive trees and cypress pines. It’s a view I never grow tired of.
It’s turning out to be another hot day for fall. Fortunately, the cellar stays below seventy. I can’t deny that I would love to experience Francesca sweating and I don’t mean the kind of sweat from standing outside in humidity.
I listen to National Public Radio when I want the real news without Italy’s political slant on it. I check my phone out of habit to find out what’s up in the world while I eat a balanced breakfast of eggs, thinly sliced bacon, and wheat toast, because Mama insists it’s good for me.
I’m not worried about inheriting Dad’s heart issues. He loved his steaks, pizza, and pasta more than he loved his fruits and vegetables. I’m more conscientious about what I put in my body and too vain to let myself gain weight.
I leave the house, waving to my guards as I pass by. They have no clue where I’m going as I’m totally deviating from my routine. I find a coffee house and grab a latte with cocoa on top for Francesca.
The drive to the farmhouse is relaxing and gives me time to think. Now that I’m in my late twenties, I need to focus on how I live the rest of my life and where I’m going in the organization.
But all I can think about is that little spitfire in the wine cellar and I can’t wait to get the report on the night. Surely she’s behaving—as one in her position should.
Who am I kidding? She’s not behaving—she’s trying to manipulate Matteo into turning her loose. I’d bet money on it.
The farmhouse comes into view and my stomach flips in anticipation of seeing her. Only a few guys at the top in the organization know about this place because the house is registered in our grandmother’s maiden name, a name no outside the family remembers anymore.
It’s a shame that none of us use this place, we just pay for the basic upkeep but one day, it might be worth sinking money into. I park on the gravel driveway and grab the coffee as I head into the house.
I open the door with care now that I know she loves to attack from behind but instead, the sunlight hits the wood floor illuminating the entranceway. The heavy wood door lets out a groan as it shuts behind me and I make my way to the kitchen, and to the door that leads to the cellar.
“I don’t want to eat,” she hollers.
She has lungs, I’ll give her that.
I open the door and the light fades with each step I take as I descend the into the cellar.
“You leave me with this Neanderthal,” is her greeting.
“He’s a great guy, calm down.” I sound nonchalant because I have a wait and see attitude, unless the situation calls for urgency.
It’s probably why I’m considered the fun one in the family. I’m definitely the sticky glue that keeps everyone together and the chill pill that keeps everyone calm.
“Good afternoon, Sunshine.” I start the salutations over in a positive light.
“Fuck you. It’s not sunny in here so I wouldn’t know.” Her foul mood fills the room. I imagine Matteo is ready for a break.
The walls are rock, and the floor is Terrazzo tile and oddly enough, there is still wine in the wood racks that line the walls, along with an empty olive oil barrow we pushed into a corner.
“Maybe we can make it a better day.”
“Doubtful. The only thing that would make it nice, is if you untied me.”
I chuckle and roll my eyes.
“You, a lean fighting machine, want to be cut loose. Don’t think so.”
“Asshole.”