“Pleasure to meet you, Michelle Trottier from France. You’re one of Dario’s little contest winners?” he asks. The snideness causes Dario’s skin to crawl.
“I guess so,” Michelle says.
“Didn’t think you’d catch any cuties, Dar,” Emilio says, jutting an elbow into Dario’s stomach. He grunts both from the impact and the annoyance of having to deal with his brother in his space. Emilio skipped university, married young, and moved out right away. Dario couldn’t have been happier about it all.
“Can you point that away from me?” Dario asks. When the guy in the hat makes no move to comply, Dario shoves the camera out of his face. His patience runs thin when Emilio is around.
Emilio rolls his eyes. “Craig, fine, stop rolling.”
From behind Craig and the bulbous piece of recording equipment, Dario’s mom appears. April Cotogna seems as flabbergasted by her youngest son as Dario is. Dario rushes in to hug her.
“What are you doing here?” Dario asks, relieved to see her.
“I have a few nights off from the tour, so I flew in to see how you were doing with the contest. I told your brother it would be nice if he came along for support. I found Craig with him when I picked him up at his place,” April explains.
“Craig goes where I go,” Emilio says, leaning up against a wall with one arm. He talks to Michelle with a closeness that is unbecoming of a married man.
“Who is Craig?” Dario asks, needing to find a foothold in this conversation.
Craig speaks for himself, “I’m an American filmmaker and producer dipping my toe into the reality TV space. I reached out a year ago about doing a documentary on how Amorina is one of the leading chocolate manufacturers in sustainability and global initiatives, but schedules never aligned with Cosimo Sr.and documentary funding is slim. Right after your grandfather’s passing, Emilio messaged saying he had a great idea for a reality show.”
Michelle interjects, “Did you say reality show?”
“He did, bella,” Emilio says while clapping Craig on the back.
“We are pitching this package asSuccessionmeetsThe Real Housewives. My producing partners back in the US loved the idea, so I hopped on the first flight I could to get out here and start shooting for a fiery pilot episode,” he says.
Dario shakes his head. “Did you know about this?” he asks his mother.
“Only as much as they told me in the car ride over,” she says, holding up her hands in presumed innocence.
A headache builds slowly at the base of his neck and grows stronger as he speaks. “I do not consent to having any part in this.”
“We’ll just blur out your face then,” Emilio says, unfazed and with oodles of little-brother defiance.
“Everyone will obviously know it’s me,” Dario contests.
“Fine, then consent and it won’t matter.” Emilio smirks beneath his patchy mustache.
“You’re not even inheriting Amorina. You know I have until my thirty-second birthday to marry before it passes on to you. My birthday is still three months away,” Dario says.
Craig hoists the camera back up into position and starts rolling again. Dario refuses to look like a yowling monster in whatever nonsense this footage inevitably becomes, so he refrains from making any bigger scene.
Emilio looks about the villa. “I’m not seeing many suitors left, Dario, and as far as I can tell Mademoiselle Trottier isn’t wearing an engagement ring.” He hooks her hand in his, and she leans into the forward gesture.
“I still have time,” says Dario feebly.
“Tick, tock. If I were you, I wouldn’t waste any of it before snatching up this beautiful woman,” Emilio says in a near sickening singsong.
“You’re forgetting you have a wife,” says Dario pointedly. “Where is she, by the way?”
“She is in Greece visiting her family. Must you be such a buzzkill?” Emilio asks.
“Must you be such a nuisance?” Dario retorts.
“Must you—”
“Boys!” April shouts. “You fought less when you were children. Act like the grown men you are.”
