Page 24 of Unrelenting
When I believe a person is worthy of respect, I’ll give it to them, even if it means not having everything my way.
“Have you considered my revised offer?” I ask. It’s almost double the amount I began negotiations with three weeks ago.
“It’s generous,” Ricci concedes. “It would certainly set my granddaughter up for life.”
“Granddaughter?” I had no idea he had family beyond his feckless son. Someone should have flagged that up to me when I had Ricci’s background investigated. I smooth over my expression to hide how much that’s thrown me off guard. “You’ve never mentioned her before.”
“Why would I? We’re not friends.”
He has a point. “No, but I’ve never heard anyone else mention her either.”
Ricci grunts. “That’s because nobody knows she exists. My worthless son got her mother pregnant and walked out. He’s never seen his daughter, but I have. She’s a sweet girl, and I want her taken care of.”
“But the money isn’t enough to do that?” I guess.
“I’m old-fashioned, Signore Volante. I don’t want her to have all that money and no protection.”
“Perhaps I could arrange protection for her.”
“Bah! I don’t want some bodyguard trailing after her. I want her to be married, preferably before I die.”
Shock rattles through my bones. “I can’t marry your granddaughter.”
Ricci barks out an unflattering laugh.
“As if I’d accept a faithless playboy like you for my Violetta.” He sobers and rubs his chin. “But you must know men. Good men.”
I shrug. “I know men like me.”
“Like you, but not you, I can live with.” Ricci reaches into his jacket and pulls out a photo. He thrusts it toward me. “This is my Violetta. Find her a suitable husband, and then we’ll talk about the land.”
He rises and heads for the door. The man has insulted me and demanded I play matchmaker, a role I’m patently unsuited to. Normally I’d punch him in the face, but I’m just too stunned to react.
“Don’t you need a ride home?”
Ricci waves his hand dismissively. “I’ll walk. Your damned lackey drives too fast.”
He marches off more briskly than I’d think possible for a man of his age, just as Benito comes into the room with two cups of espresso.
“Lackey?” he protests, having caught the tail end of the conversation. He takes the seat Ricci just vacated and passes a cup of coffee across the table, keeping the other for himself.
“Bit fucking late with the espresso, aren’t you?”
“What can I say? I drive fast, but it takes time to make a decent coffee.” He sips his and makes a loudahsound to prove his point. “So what did the old man say?”
“He wants me to find a husband for his granddaughter.”
Benito’s eyebrows shoot up. “He has a granddaughter?”
“Yeah, this is her.” I slide the photo across the table to my cousin, who picks it up and laughs. I’m not sure why, because the girl is stunning.
“That’s Violetta Caruso,” he says. “She works at La Stanza Rosso.”
That’s Damiano’s nightclub in Florence. I get to my feet, snatch the photo from Benito’s hand and sink back onto my chair, staring at the raven-haired beauty in the picture.
“Fuck, you’re right. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize her.”
“Well, she’s obviously younger there and she hasn’t got any make-up on but it’s obviously her,” Benito says. “Perhaps Damiano can convince her to help you get the land from her grandfather.”
