These were the stairs their father had died on.
It was becoming so clear now, the real reason Tom hadn’t wanted her to take the case. Giovanni would not have wanted it. Kinda funny that she and Tom finally had something in common – well, besides the Botox. They were both still trying to please a dead man.
Giovanni had thought she was a joke. A cute little girl playing dress-ups down at the courthouse, waiting for Daddy to come and call her in for dinner time. But he’d waited and waited for her to come running back home. It was always going to end like this, she realised. Her out in the cold, and him not standing at the window anymore. No confrontation, no reconciliation. One moment he was there – glaring, judging – and the next he was gone.
‘You mean I couldn’t just come to the decision on my own? I needed someone to think of it for me? A man perhaps?’ Nella’s heels were a hindrance, but she didn’t slow down.
‘Speaking of men, who are you dating?’
‘Ashton Kutcher.’
‘Poor Mila, I knew she was looking a bit distracted lately.’
‘Why do you care?’ They’d reached The Spot. The tenth stair up, one down from the flat marble landing before the staircase branched off into the east and west wings. This was where their father had died. Nella stared at the shiny, polished marble – an impossibly white, floating ice-cap. If she stared long enough, she could see the marble start to darken, and the stain of her father’s blood mottled against the stone.
‘Because the media are fucking piranhas at the moment.’ Tom’s voice was thick but neither of them mentioned the stairs. They kept walking, no longer in sync. ‘They got their taste of flesh and blood after the gala. Now Clarkson. Which, with the police raid yesterday, is going to spark all sorts of questions and rumours about the court case ... Bloody lucky that succubus Sarah Kingsley—’
‘Sophie.’
‘—seems to have been scared off since the gala. Or perhaps it’s because Greyson found himself a new girlfriend without a track record of defamation.’
‘Andmysex life is relevant because ...?’ Nella refused his chivalrous arm, spread wide to let her through into the conference room first, and stood by the door, arms crossed.
The squiggly M above Tom’s nose (usually ironed out by Botox) deepened. ‘I’m just saying it would be exceptionally fortunate if you weren’t just joking about Ashton Kutcher. We need attention away from Clarkson and the galaandthe court case.’
‘Why can’t Luca date a Kardashian or something? Or has he already dated them all?’ Nella’s insides were crystallising with shards of ice with every careless word her brother used to describe the recent events that had punctured a hole in her heart.
The M was going to become a tattoo. ‘People aren’t looking at Luca right now. They’re looking at you.’
‘I’m not dating anyone, Tom. You’re not going to get a scandal out of me. And for Christ’s sake, don’t you realise how you sound? Like Clarkson’s death is just another annoyance, another tax query for your accountant. He was a person, Tom, he was a ... friend.’
Thinking of Clarkson and law school and that night sent a cold current through her. Because she knew now what she had to do. She’d known it as she’d shoved Matteo La Marca in the middle of the road and told him she was taking the case. She’d known it at 2 a.m. when she googled Clarkson’s office back in the city and confirmed her fears about who he’d gone into business with.
Who Nella would have to speak to if she ever wanted to find out what was in that green notebook.
‘I’m sorry about Lieu. I am, truly.’ The M softened, but Tom’s jaw didn’t.
Because you didn’t want me to take the case and now your hands are tied.
‘But appearances matter, Nella. What about dating a footballer? Fan the toxic masculinity zeitgeist flames.’
‘Name one AFL player and I’ll do it.’
Tom’s lips curled. ‘When you do decide to settle down,’ he said, like he was gently explaining the process of cutting off her own arm with a kitchen knife, ‘you need to be strategic with your choice.’
‘Oh, I know. I was thinking of hosting aHunger Games–style tournament. Do you think Mum would be pissed if we used the lawns?’
‘You need to take this seriously.’
‘Have you not seen theHunger Games? I don’t know how much more serious you can get—’
‘Your future husband sets the tone for the future of Barbarani Wines! I’m not saying you have to start procreating right away – I’m a feminist – but you have to consider these things. There are expectations, given you’re the eldest.’
‘Expectations?I’m sorry, are we in a Jane Austen novel? Is this fuckingBridgerton? What makes you think I would even want to subject a child to this family? You sound so much like Dad sometimes – and that’s not a bloody compliment.’
‘You’re so quick to discredit him. But you wouldn’t be who you are without him. He sharpened you.’ Tom raised his chin.
Nella shoved past him, horrified at the burn in the back of her throat. But she couldn’t cry, because she’d walked into a hushed room filled with her relatives. And the only time Italian aunties are silent is when they’re listening to something they’re not supposed to.
