Page 62 of Sins of the Son

Not wanting to take any chances, I chose a secondhand Gucci black and ivory A-line tweed skirt with the GG jacquard pattern that reached just above my knees, paired with black knee-high boots and a simple black V-neck sweater. Just in case, I bent over in front of the mirror to make sure not even a hint of my bra or cleavage showed. After looking for my knockoff black alligator Gucci purse then remembering it was already at the office, I headed out toward the stables to find Alfonso.

* * *

Taking a deep breath, I schooled my features into my best resting bitch face as I approached the receptionist's desk. Not that I had anything against Liliana, I just didn’t know what to expect after Cesare’s announcement yesterday and his note today.

Liliana smiled. “Buongiorno, Milana. Here are your messages. There are a few memos from Luigi on your desk for your review. Mr. Cavalieri is in his office, but he told me to tell you he has a meeting this afternoon with a Mr. Romolo Castiglione and would like you to join them in the conference room when he arrives, to discuss that report you did on his project.”

Romolo Castiglione. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but then again, every name in this village was vaguely familiar.

I took the messages from Liliana. “Thank you.” I paused, trying to read her expression for any sign of a hidden meaning, but there was none.

She raised both her eyebrows. “Is there something else I can do for you? Do you need something copied? I’m happy to help! I want to be as useful as possible.”

I held up a hand. “No, thank you. Nothing right now.”

I stared past her into the open area of the office where people sat at their desks. Everything seemed strangely normal. There was the occasional ring of a phone, the tap of a keyboard, the squeak of a rubber sole on the ancient marble floor. Inhaling a deep breath to ease the lightheaded, queasy feeling in my head and limbs, I took several faltering steps forward. I half expected to hear a record scratch and for everything to stop as everyone suddenly looked up and stared like they did in the movies, but nothing happened. Nothing. Not only did no one approach me, no one seemed to even be weirdly avoiding eye contact with me.

What the hell had Cesare said to them this morning?

Part of me wanted to ask, and part of me would rather be forced to wear polyester neon jumpsuits from the seventies for the rest of my life than ask.

Pasting a smile on my face, I headed to my desk. Locating the memos, I sat down and got to work. This would be my saving grace. My solace. No matter what anyone said, I knew I was good at this job. Damn good. It took a special skill to navigate all the red tape of Italy’s bureaucratic and more than a little corrupt property and building permitting system, and I seemed to have a knack for it.

It wasn’t glamorous work, but it was satisfying. It was like playing monopoly with someone else’s money. I liked to imagine all the properties like a big game board that I was circling around as I helped drop hotels, high-rises, and housing developments on it. It was exciting to think about one day visiting one of these projects and seeing all the businesses and families and knowing that I helped make it happen.

I had lost myself in my work, so it was hours later when I heard some movement up at the front desk. Mr. Romolo Castiglione must have arrived. Cesare would come down from his office any second now. I tightened my stomach muscles to kill the butterflies and reached for the Tuscany files to make sure that everything was precisely in order.

As I stood and smoothed my skirt, Cesare appeared on the partially hidden staircase at the side of the room. His gaze zeroed in on me.

Time slowed.

Gone was the easy-going, denim and T-shirt Cesare. He was back to being the Cavalieri tycoon billionaire with slicked-back hair and a bespoke suit that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe.

He crossed the room in long, slow strides as he buttoned his suit coat, all the while keeping his intense, dark gaze on me as a warning. I was afraid to open my mouth to breathe for fear he would suck the oxygen straight from my lungs. I could practically hear his voice growling, "behave, babygirl," in my ear. Extremely graphic visions of what he was capable of doing if I didn’t behave flashed across my mind, warming my cheeks. The corners of his eyes crinkled as his mouth lifted in the barest hint of a smirk, like he had read my mind, damn him, and knew precisely what I was remembering.

It was only after he broke eye contact that I felt the blood moving in my veins again.

Che diavolo!

I grabbed the files with shaking hands and snapped them together against the desktop with more force than was necessary. I could do this. I could definitely do this. I could sit in a conference room across from Cesare like a professional and not imagine his face between my thighs.

Oh God, I was screwed.

I pounded the already neat stack of files into order again. It was fine. Everything was going to be fine.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Cesare reach the reception area. “Romolo, how have you been, my friend?” He grabbed Romolo by the hand and shook it, slapping him affectionately on the back.

“I have been good. It has been too long since we have seen one another. I’m looking forward to doing business together,” answered Romolo.

And my entire world shattered.

I shook so violently I had to grab onto the edge of my desk to remain standing.

That voice.

I knew that voice.

I never knew their names.

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