Chapter twenty-one
Gio
Florence, Italy
The days are long and, with no text messages from Tori to alleviate the stress, difficult. Ant and Lucia are based here now too, and the three of us are playing our part in the engagement farce, biding our time. Each week, there are a couple of social events for Lucia and me to attend, arranged mostly by my father’s assistant. And Ant is always there right by my side, being the dutiful brother in the eyes of the media.
I hate it all, but when there’s no reason left for me to rail against it, I just move through the motions. At least after my meltdown on the call with Ant the morning the engagement was announced, it cleared the air between us. Ant has been a lot calmer now that he finally believes I don’t want to marry Lucia.
Meanwhile, the auditors continue to work back in time through the company accounts, validating money in and money out, line by line, year upon year. It’s a painstakingly slowprocess, which is frustrating the hell out of me and delaying our original plans to modernize the business.
The last update was that there appears to have been money siphoned off each year for the last three from the Barbieri Foods side of the business, small amounts each month that wouldn’t be noticed, but over that period of time, is now nearing two hundred thousand in US dollars.
Did our great-uncle, the previous CEO, know? Or our father?
Those are the questions Ant and I want to find the answers to. But with the snail’s pace of the audit and the distraction of the arranged marriage, it could be months, maybe years, or worse—maybe never—before we do.
It’s late, and the offices have been empty for hours. I snap shut my laptop, then send a text to Ant. Earlier this evening, I told him I would stop by to talk to him privately. We make sure that any discussions of the audit and marriage agreement are kept out of the office.
At the window, I watch the café staff below packing away the tables and chairs, clearing the thoroughfare that buzzes with activity during the day. I do this most nights, preferring to work late in the office than in my hotel suite. There are too many memories of Tori haunting those rooms. Ant replies that he’s free, and shoving my laptop in my bag, I turn off the master light switch, plunging the offices and corridors into darkness, then leave.
With a sharp rap against Ant’s door, I listen for his heavy tread hitting the parquet-floored area near the door, but tonight, the sound is lighter and atap, tap, tapinstead of a thud. The door swings open to Lucia.
“Ciao, Gio.”
“Ciao, Lucia. I wasn’t expecting you to be in Florence tonight.” We share a friendly hug like we’ve always done before I follow her into the sitting room.
Lucia normally stays at her father’s villa in the country when she’s in Italy and will only come into the city if she needs to attend a function. But there’s nothing on our calendar until next week.
“I’m staying with Antonio this week because my father is driving me crazy with wanting to make wedding plans.” She brushes her long auburn waves back over her shoulders, her emerald-green eyes narrowing in annoyance.
Lucia is a beautiful woman and could easily have been an international model, but instead, she chose the path of fashion designer. And from what I’ve heard from Ant, she’s been very successful too.
“Would you like a glass of wine? Antonio is in the shower; he should be finished soon,” she adds in her strong Italian accent.
Two glasses of red wine sit half-drunk on the coffee table. The whole scene appears very domesticated, and I wonder exactly how fake their marriage is going to end up being.
“Thanks, and I’m glad you’re here because I’ve been hoping to get some time for the three of us to make some firmer plans.”
She leans over to place her hand on my arm. “Gio, I’m sorry for my father’s part in this mess. Antonio told me you are in love with another woman, and that this has caused trouble in that relationship. If there is anything I can do to help ...”
“Just marry my brother, and that will be more than enough,” I joke as she strolls into the kitchen to get another wine glass.
She laughs. “Consider it done. He’s doing me a big favor because my father will finally stop trying to match me up with what he refers to as suitable partners. This way, Antonio and I can continue with our independent lives as normal.” I’m constantly surprised by how okay she’s been about the idea of marrying my brother.
Ant strides into the sitting area, dressed casually in sweats and a T-shirt, with his hair still damp.
“Hey, bro.” His gaze goes straight to Lucia in the kitchen. “Do you need help, Luce?”
“No, it’s fine. Please sit with your brother.”
He returns to the single chair opposite mine and picks up his wine glass. Lucia joins us, passing me the glass, then placing some olives, bread, and cheese on the table before sitting on the sofa between us.
“Luce, tell Gio what you learned from your father about the marriage agreement.”
“Well, Papa said that about twenty years ago, your father came to him asking for a loan because the Barbieri family company was going through financial difficulties. My father agreed, and they signed a fairly standard loan for the money to be paid off with interest over a twenty-year period.”
“Do you know how much the loan was for?” I ask.
