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“Ricci,” Benito greeted, his phone up to his ear. Turning away, he started speaking a rapid string of information to whoever was on the other end of the line. Zio Marco, most likely. He was the head of security for my father. At least, he was the last time I was here.
Benito motioned to the guard house and the gate creaked open. “Marco will meet you at the door,” he told us.
“Grazie. We’ll hang later?”
Benito slapped my shoulder through the car window. “Definitely.”
We drove through the gate and started up the long drive. The place hadn’t changed much since the last time I was here. Olive and bergamot trees. Rolling hills. Bright sunshine and crumbling stone. Such was the beauty of a four-hundred-year-old estate.
The castello loomed in the distance. As it grew closer, the hollow empty feeling in my chest disappeared. This was home, no matter where I traveled to. The dirt and gravel were part of me. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed it.
Alessio whistled as he stared out the car window. “And you gave this up, principe? Ma dai.”
To live the life I wanted? Without having to hide or pretend? It had been an easy decision.
Though it hadn’t worked out the way I intended. Paolo was dead and now I was planning on throwing my hat in with the Bratva. Fausto would have a thing or two to say about that, no doubt. But I didn’t want to live in my father’s shadow. I wanted to build something of my own.
Something with Alessio. Something that was ours.
The front door swung open as I shut off the engine. Zio Marco walked out onto the steps. His arms were at his sides, but I knew he was armed. He didn’t take any chances with security at the castello. Not since my father was almost killed.
I got out and walked over to him. “You put on weight?” I asked, even though he appeared the exact same size as he always did. Zio Marco prided himself on his physical condition. “You look heavier than the last time I saw you.”
His gaze narrowed on me. Then his face broke out into a wide grin. “Still pushing my buttons, you little shit.” He pulled me into a fierce hug. “It is good to see you, Giulio.”
I returned the hug. “And you, Zio.”
We broke apart and Zio Marco was watching Alessio, who was getting our bags out of the car. I motioned my man forward. When he reached me, I placed my hand on the small of his back. “Zio Marco, this is Alessio.”
Marco nodded once, then shifted to stare at me. “He’s been sick with worry.”
Guilt arrowed through my chest. “He’ll understand once I explain.”
“Doubtful. Come on. Let’s get this over with.” He tilted his chin toward the car. “Sniper, grab the bags.”
It shouldn’t have surprised me that Zio Marco knew of Alessio’s occupation. But it did.
Alessio grabbed our small bags off the ground and brought them inside. Marco pointed near the stairs. “Leave them there. He’s outside at the paddock.”
At this time of day? I was surprised Fausto wasn’t in his office.
Alessio’s head swiveled as he took in the inside of the castello. I was used to it, the old tapestries, dark furniture and priceless paintings. It was a mixture of both old and new, a symbol of the Ravazzani tradition, but also of my father’s wealth and power.
We stepped out onto the terrace, then started up the path. We passed Zia’s vegetable garden, which was thriving thanks to her green thumb. The winery and vineyards were off to the left, but we veered to the right, toward the farm. My half brother loved riding horses. No doubt Fausto was overseeing Rafe’s instruction, molding Rafe into the perfect successor.
“We heard you were in Greece, then nothing,” Zio Marco remarked. “Where did you go?”
“Isle of Canna. It’s in the Scottish Hebrides.”
“Sounds fucking cold.”
I chuckled. “It was.”
Alessio said nothing, just walked alongside me. I had the strangest urge to hold his hand, but this boyfriend thing was new. I wasn’t sure yet how he would feel about public displays of affection. Unable to help myself, I brushed the back of my hand along his arm.
He gave me a strained smile.
Marco pointed at the paddock. “There you go.” As I passed, he grabbed my arm. “After you finish here, go and apologize to Zia.”
