I smooth the silk duvet on Mr. Andretti's bed for the third time, ensuring every crease is gone. The guesthouse is pristine, every surface polished and dusted within an inch of its life. I took extra care arranging the fresh flowers, and laying out towels and amenities. When everything is perfect, I take a step back to admire my handiwork. The knot of tension in my stomach loosens a fraction. At least in these things, I have control. I can make order out of chaos.
I hear voices approaching from the hallway, and then Raffi appears in the doorway. Mario Vecchi took Mr. Andretti on a tour of the northern grounds while I quickly prepared the guesthouse with Raffi's help.
As Nero enters, I step back, allowing him to fully take in the space I've prepared. His bitter-chocolate eyes sweep the roomwith an appreciative smile, black hair falling into his face as he nods approvingly.
He really is very good looking, though I infinitely prefer—well.
And there's something about Nero Andretti that keeps me on edge.
"Ah!" he exclaims. "What a splendid palace to sleep in, when I should by rights be in some dingy motel.Grazie mille, Darian."
"You're very welcome, Mr. Andretti. If you need me at any time, just push the service button by the door, or there's one in your bedroom, too. I can attend to anything else you need during your stay here."
"Darianand Ican attend to anything you need," Raffi says. "I assume you were checked for weapons at the gate, sir? If not, I'll take anything you have now. Keep it safe for you."
"Grazie," Nero says again, fixing me with a dazzling grin and ignoring Raffi entirely. His charisma is almost overwhelming, yet beneath the charm there's something calculating. "I will let you know if I need anything, Darian." He wanders to the window to take in the view without comment. "We will be good friends, yes? I believe I will be here for some time."
Raffi and I exchange a glance. "Come on, now," Raffi says again. "Guns and knives and anything else you've got."
"But I have none, DeLuca." Nero glances over his shoulder at his bag, waves his hand at it. "Please. See for yourself."
Raffi goes through Nero's luggage as the man watches on with a small, amused smile.
"Meals will be brought to you, Mr. Andretti," I tell him as Raffi searches, "given that we are otherwise engaged at the Manor. Do you have any allergies or requests?"
"No, no. I'm sorry to be such a bother. How awkward of me to turn up in the middle of things." With a chuckle, Nero turns his beaming smile on me. I try not to stare at the tattoo over his throat. "Tell me, Darian. What is there to do for amusement at Redwood, since I will be kept so separate from this ongoing function?"
"There are many options for entertainment at Redwood Manor," I say evenly. "The tennis courts, perhaps, or there's a nine-hole golf course further out. The gardens are lovely to walk around in, and the pool is?—"
"I think I will explore on my own." He brushes past me to look at one of the shelves, picking up knickknacks and turning them over in his hands. "And you two? What do you do for amusement?"
Heat rises in my cheeks and Raffi, who has found nothing in Andretti's luggage, looks like he's about to say something rude. "This is our workplace, sir," I say quickly. "We rarely find time for fun."
"All work and no play?" He looks up from examining a decorative vase, gaze piercing. "That is not good for the soul, I think." He replaces the vase. "This will be an interesting visit."
Raffi takes a few quick steps over to stand next to me. "We need to go, Mr. Andretti," he says calmly. "Enjoy your evening. Darian, come with me."
Nero summons a charming smile. "Of course," he says. "Thank you for such a warm welcome."
Raffi practically marches me back along the path toward the main house, and neither of us speak our thoughts aloud.
What new dangers have come to Redwood Manor in the guise of an old friend? Is this arrival pure coincidence, or does Sandro's mother—a woman I have only heard spoken of in hushed whispers, though I know she is an important figure in Italy—have an agenda?
CHAPTER 15
RAFFI
The parley talksseem to be going better by the time evening arrives, the grand salon coming alive with the murmur of voices and the clink of glasses as the guests mingle again. It's a smaller crowd tonight, only those staying in the Manor, and there's still some tension—but an undercurrent of relief runs through the polite smiles and measured laughter.
Rumor is, Clemenza has made some suggestions that both factions can agree to, and there might be peace between them after all.
I'll believethatwhen I see it.
When Darian comes in, he sends me a brief glance before he takes up that straight-spined butler stance of his and makes his announcement. "Ladies and gentlemen," he says, his voice cutting through the noise, "dinner is served."
There's only one lady here tonight, and she's sure enjoying the limelight. Roxy Rochford is staying onsite with her fiancé. Tonight she's dressed in something blue and glittery that drops down to her bellybutton at the front and her butt cleavage at the back. Sandro offers her his arm, and takes her through to theformal dining room, followed by Gino and AJ, and the rest of the guests filter after them.
Sandro seats Roxy in the middle of the table—"A rose among thorns," he says lightly, provoking polite laughter from the milling group. Gino sits with her, surrounded by his entourage, and AJ and his faction sit opposite. Sandro takes his place at the head of the table, Jack on his right and Julian to his left. Leo is next to Julian, his broad frame dwarfing the delicate chair beneath him. Lombardo and Montanari, two of our old guard, are seated closer to Tony Clemenza, who is in the other honored position at the foot of the table.
