Page 220 of Niccolo

You’re sure?

I texted back,Yes. But don’t do anything final until I get back.

I paused… then added an extra note.

Although if you want to let Adriano work out some of his aggression on the fucker, be my guest.

90

The driver must have gotten the all-clear from a superior because he turned the car around and drove in the opposite direction.

An hour later, he dropped me off in Catania.

As soon as Vicari’s man was gone, I hailed a taxi and set off for Taormina.

The drive up the coast was picturesque, with the Mediterranean sparkling brightly off to my right. I glanced over at it occasionally, although most of my time was spent texting Dario the details of the meeting with Don Vicari.

Eventually we pulled off the highway onto a winding road. The city itself was built on a slope, and the taxi weaved back and forth – first down, then eventually up again as we approached the hotel.

The last leg of the trip was absolutely insane. The taxi had to inch forward through throngs of tourists choking the narrow streets of the medieval city. It was like trying to nudge a car through a herd of indifferent goats.

Finally, we reached a gorgeous lawn with a traffic gate across a small driveway.

“This is fine,” I said.

I paid the taxi driver and got out, then walked up the road alone.

The grounds of the hotel were beautiful – a series of park-like expanses filled with all sorts of ornamental trees and bushes.

I strolled along a walkway, past a whimsical stone wall inlaid with different colored bricks, and up a bunch of steps surrounded by flowering vines.

At the top of the steps, the hotel was a palace – several stories high and hundreds of feet long.

I passed a pool where parents lounged as their children played in the water. I entered a stairwell inside the hotel and exited next to a glass-enclosed bar decorated in an Art Deco style.

Once I passed through the bar, I found an expansive patio fenced in by wrought-iron railings. Plush couches sat underneath an awning while tables full of wealthy patrons ate and drank in the light of the setting sun.

A half a mile below, a crescent bay was dotted with sailboats – and over to the right was the breathtaking sight of Sicily’s most famous volcano. About 15 miles away, the towering slopes of Mt. Etna were wreathed in clouds, with a plume of smoke slowly drifting from its peak.

I was caught up in the majesty and opulence of it all when I heard a lovely voice call out my name.

“Niccolo!”

Sofia was at a table by the railing, a glass of white wine in front of her.

I grinned and walked over. “Would it be presumptuous of me to kiss you right away?”

“It would be insulting if youdidn’t,”she said, tilting her face up to mine.

I leaned over and kissed her on the mouth.

The warmth and softness of her lips…

The sweetness of the wine on her breath…

It immediately made my blood sing in my veins.

I touched my hand tenderly to her face, and we kissed for another 20 seconds before she broke it off.

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