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‘I’d heard you were interested in this place.’
Luca shrugged.
‘I thought you’d got out of the casino game.’
‘Times change.’
‘Clearly.’ Francesco forced a smile. ‘Does your little wife know you’re going back into forbidden territory?’
Luca bared his teeth. ‘You leave Grace out of this.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of bringing her into it, knowing how much she hates me.’ Here, he looked at Pepe. ‘I do believe your sister-in-law hates me more than you do.’ Not giving either of them the chance to respond, he flashed his own teeth. ‘I suggest the pair of you rethink your decision to try to buy this place. The documents for my ownership are on the verge of completion.’
Pepe finally spoke. ‘But they’re not completed yet, are they?’
‘They will be soon. And if either of you try anything to stop the sale going through, you will live to regret it.’
‘Are you threatening us?’
‘You sound surprised, Luca,’ he said, deliberately keeping his tone amicable. ‘You should know I am not a man to deal with threats. Only promises.’
Luca pulled himself to his full height. ‘I will not be threatened, Calvetti. Remember that.’
Only the gentle squeeze of Hannah’s fingers lacing back through his stopped Francesco squaring up to his old friend.
He shook himself. He didn’t want to be having this conversation in front of her, regardless of the fact that they were speaking in their native tongue and not in English.
‘Don’t start a war you’ll never win, Mastrangelo.’
‘I remember your father saying exactly the same thing to me when my father died. Your father thought he could take control of the Mastrangelo estate.’ Luca smiled. ‘He didn’t succeed in getting his way. And nor will you.’
Baring his teeth one last time, Francesco said, ‘But I am not my father. I have infinitely more patience.’
‘Are you okay?’ Hannah asked as soon as they were out of earshot.
‘I’m fine. Let’s get out of here.’
‘But we’ve only just arrived.’
Expelling air slowly through his nose, he stopped himself from insisting they leave right now. He could insist and she would have no choice but to follow, but to do so would upset her, and that was the last thing he wanted to do.
Strangely enough, Hannah’s presence tempered the angry adrenaline flowing through him—not by much, but enough to take the edge off it.
Having promised to teach her how to play Blackjack, he found seats at a table for them to join in. Unlike at the tournament in Sicily, where her remarkable poker face was her biggest asset, there was no bluffing needed when playing against the dealer. She still picked it up like a pro. At one point he thought she would finish with more chips than him.
Watching her have fun eased a little more of his rage, enough so that there were moments he forgot the Mastrangelos were there, trying to muscle in on his territory. It pleased him enormously to watch her drink a full glass of champagne. She really was learning to switch off.
His driver was ready for them when they left. As soon as they were seated in the back, the partition separating them from the driver, Hannah squished right next to him and reached for his hand. Pulling it onto her lap, she rubbed her thumb in light circular motions over his inner wrist.
The breath of air he inhaled went into his lungs that bit easier.
‘How do you know those two men?’ she asked after a few moments of silence.
He could only respect her reticence in waiting until they were alone before starting her cross-examination. ‘Luca and Pepe?’
‘Is that their names?’ she said drily. ‘You forgot to introduce us.’
He sighed. ‘I apologise. They’re old friends. Were old friends. At least, Luca was.’
‘Was?’
‘Their father used to work for my father. And then he quit.’
He felt her blanch.
‘Don’t worry. My father didn’t touch him—they’d been childhood friends themselves, which saved Pietro from my father’s vengeance. But the fact my father didn’t put a bullet through him didn’t mean the perceived slur could be forgotten. Once their professional relationship finished, family loyalty meant any friendship between Luca and I was finished, too. It’s all about respect.’ In his father’s eyes, everything had been about respect. Everything.
How he’d envied the easy affection the two Mastrangelo boys shared with their father. It was the kind of relationship he’d longed for, but for Salvatore Calvetti a sign of affection for his only child consisted of a slap on the back if he pleased him.
