Page 73 of Destino

Lorenzo smiled. “Cara, I’m enjoying every minute with you. That is all you see.”

Fabiana uncrossed her arms. She had to get out of her own head. It wasshewho asked so little. Mira warned her about being eager with men. This one she liked, a lot. She felt the heartstrings connecting with his. It could be the makings of love. “For starters your life. I know you aren’t married, and you never mention any family outside of this. Where is your mother? Your father?”

“Come here.” He sat on the edge of the bed and patted his lap.

Fabiana walked over in bare feet. She wore a summer dress with thin straps and a long split. He pulled her down to his lap and kissed her under the neck. “My mother is dead. She died of breast cancer, many years ago. My father died when I was only twelve. He was murdered. I was raised with no siblings, just Giovanni and Dominic. Then came Catalina. You’ve met them all.”

“Right. I have. But who are you Lorenzo?”

“Who am I? I’m second. Second in everything.”

“That makes no sense.”

He let go a gust of laughter. She thought he was kidding, but the pain in his eyes said differently. “Si. I’m nephew not son, cousin not brother,caponotconsigliere, never firstCara. I’ve competed with being first for a very long time. Then I met you. I look at you and I don’t feel second. I feel chosen. You have chosen me no?”

Stunned she nodded.

A sly smile moved across his lips. “Sei bellissima.Grazie.For being mine.”

His lips, soft, lush and persistent brushed hers and started the kiss that swept her breath from her lungs. He lowered her to the bed, and she held to him, to the feeling of having him. The kiss came to a natural end, but his forehead pressed to hers. “I’m in need of a favor.”

She frowned. “From me?”

“An inspector will come in the morning. He will tell you and your friend that your business is closed again. This time you won’t question it.Capisci? You will explain it to your friend and help her accept it. Then you will convince her to stay here.”

“Lorenzo I…”

“Not permanently. Just a few days longer than you intended to stay. A week, no longer, I promise. C’mon, you know who I am. What I do. Trust me. This trouble will pass in a few weeks. Until then you and her are safest here. The phone call was my cousin. You know what power he has.”

“Yes, I have no illusions of who Giovanni Battaglia is. The head of the Cammora, of your family.”

“Very good. This is his wish, and we have to abide by it.”

“Then why can’t he just be honest with Mira? She’s my best friend. I won’t manipulate her for him.”

“Then will you do it for me. It’s in her best interest and yours. It will only cause her undo worry. You run her business right? Right?”

“Yes, but Lo—”

“Shhh, consider this another business negotiation. I haven’t told you the best part. You do this, convince Mira to stay here with my cousin for a longer vacation, and he will get your business visa cleared. You can buy property, cut through all the negotiations with that useless solicitor. Tell me this isn’t a deal worth making. Huh? Tell me?”

“It could help us. Are you sure he will do this?”

Lorenzo nodded. “He’s taken with her as I am with you. He doesn’t want our business to interfere with your lives. This is a good deal for you both. Can you do this for meangelo? Can you do this without question?”

“Will it help you, be more than second?” she reached up and touched his face.

His dark sapphire blue eyes narrowed on her. “Si.It will help me.”

“Then I’ll do it. I’ll figure something out for our workers. I can handle Mira.”

Lorenzo smirked. “I’m hungry, let’s join everyone for breakfast.”

He held her hand everywhere they went. The brief tour of his home was a bit overwhelming. He covered the front wings. There were lower levels and wine cellars she hadn’t seen. The place had two kitchens, one used to prepare formal dinners with four stoves, a walk in freezer, a drink refrigerator, a wine closet and other top chef appliances. The other kitchen was a bit smaller with a gas stove and a brick layered oven heated by wood and coal, and a small white fridge. It reminded her of a cozy home atmosphere with large tin pots and skillets. He said the larger one was built for his mother but she refused to cook in it. To this day Zia and Catalina cooked out of the smaller one. Finally he brought her to an outside terrace that faced one of the most spectacular views. There was a pool with a roman statuesque fountain that looked strangely authentic. Also a two-story cottage down a garden path, and mountains everywhere.

“Morning sweetie,” Fabiana bit into a pastry, seated before a vibrant spread of bright red, lime green, yellow and purple slices of fruit and fresh baked pastries.

Catalina looked over her shoulder at Mira and then cut her eyes, mumbling a greeting.

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