He might be a hired assassin. I take a quick visual inventory of the room and while it’s not a modern house, it’s been nicely restored. I check the view out the window from where I stand and see the glow of city lights in the distance. It’s safe to assume that’s Florence.
“Did you really want to go with the scary man with the neck tattoo?” he chides me.
“What do you know about him?”
“Nothing, but I didn’t trust him for one thing,” he puts a hand on his hip, “he was bidding on you, too. I wasn’t about to let him win.”
I’m turned on by his assertive nature and how he lets me speak my mind, but he can use an attitude adjustment.
“Wait a minute. Bid?” I’m stunned again.
What the fuck is bidding done for?
“Yes, it was quite shocking to me, but we got a tip.” He glances at Savio, then back to me. “And I had to see what was going on.”
“Yes, I swiped neck-tattoo-man’s card so Massimo could go downstairs to check out the situation.”
“Of course I had to find out what the private meeting was about,” Massimo exclaims like he’s won a court argument and it excuses his behavior of stealing and interfering with other people’s lives. “And that’s when I was absolutely appalled by the fact that men auction off their daughters.”
“No.” My jaw drops. “Papa wouldn’t do that. Arranged marriages, sure, but bidding on us like we’re cattle? That can’t be true.”
How could Papa turn me over to a stranger in exchange for money?
“Think what you want,” Savio says, “I was there, nicked that man’s card to get in the room. Some time passed but when he noticed it was missing and caused a commotion, you must have used that as your opportunity to escape.”
The timing flows, I’ll give them that.
“So let me get this right. You felt sorry for me and bid on me?” I throw a hip out and put my hand on it, standing my ground. I’m not something you buy at an auction, like unclaimed luggage. I’m the don’s daughter.
“Yes, why else? I don’t need a wife. My life is busy, complicated. I had business to discuss with your father. You were more valuable to me than anyone else in the room.”
“What do you mean by that? Was he in trouble?”
“He owes me money, lots of it. As for his dealings with others, I know nothing. But with me, he was in trouble.”
Massimo heads to a free-standing bar at the end of the room, takes the top off a decanter, and pours the contents into two snifter glasses. Judging from the amber color of the liquor, it must be cognac. It’s a status drink in certain circles. The more expensive, the better.
“So, who killed my father?”
“Don’t know; trust me, we want to know as much as you do. Your father is no good to us dead. We need to ask ourselves, who has the most to gain by his death?”
He stares at me over his glass as if daring me to provide him a list of names. Is he baiting me, or is he on the level? I can’t read him.
Damn.
“I suppose the next in line, who would technically be my brother, but Giovi wouldn’t do that, he’s not ready. He likes not being the one to make the difficult decisions.”
“Let’s not get into details tonight, it’s getting late. Samira has a room for you I think you’ll like. We’ll talk in the morning. The house is guarded and we’re all safe. That’s a win. Right?”
“I guess so.” I could have been dead on the floor like Papa twice over by now. And both times this man is present. He’s either my knight in shining armor, or he’s the dark cloud over my family.
“Good, we understand each other.” He unbuttons his jacket and tosses it in a nearby chair. “Samira,” he calls.
A woman appears. She reminds me of my grandmother, only younger.
“Please take Valentina to her room and get her settled. I’ll send a man to your hotel room to get your things as soon as the police release it. Right now, it’s part of the investigation.”
“When will we know the cause of death?” I straighten my shoulders, forgetting how this makes my boobs look bigger. Here I am trying to assert myself but only succeed at showing off my breasts. But his eyes remain on mine which tells me he’s not a total douche.