24
WOLFE
I hadn’t spoken to Don Mancini since he dismissed me.
So when I called him, I didn’t expect him to answer. I assumed my number was already blocked or he would send my call straight to voice mail. But it barely rang once before he answered. “Yes?” His tone was dark and full of irritation, but he still took the call.
“I’ll make it quick. I’d like to repair Francesca’s house—at my expense.” I liked the house I’d bought, but after seeing the way she fell in love with my Palermo place, I knew she preferred something quaint and cozy. She loved her little villa, and I knew it hurt her to know the home where we’d fallen in love had been destroyed with bullets. While she was at work during the day, I thought I could fix it up for her. It would give me something to do, and I would be close to her while I did it.
I didn’t need his permission to do something for her, but it was technically his land and I was trying to play nice. I was also alleviating work and expenses he’d have to handle himself. “I don’t want a crew on my property.”
“I never said anything about a crew.”
“You intend to do it all yourself?” he asked with slight incredulity.
“Yep—with my bare hands.”
He didn’t say anything to that, either surprised or impressed and not wanting to admit it. “She loves that house, and I love her.” It was a romantic gesture on my part, a physical declaration of love. Once this business was hers, she would probably still want to live there. It would be cramped if we had a couple of kids, but I had a feeling she would still want to live in the villa. When that time came, I could add an additional bedroom to the bottom floor, probably past the stairs. Maybe add a terrace and a deck with an awning so we could sit outside and enjoy the view of the valley and hills around us. She really enjoyed my terrace that overlooked the sea in Palermo.
He continued to sit in silence over the phone as he considered my proposition.
I didn’t say a word because I didn’t want to seem manipulative or persuasive. If he said no, I would tell Francesca, and he’d look like an asshole.
“You don’t leave her property. You don’t come to the main house or Leo’s place up the hill.”
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
He hung up.
“You’re welcome.”
It was late when Francesca came home from work, so late that I asked the maid to make dinner so Francesca wouldn’t have to worry about it. It was chicken with bowtie pasta, tomatoes, and spinach. Not as good as anything Francesca could make, but it was still better than takeout.
She kissed me when she walked in the door, wearing a black dress and platform sandals, looking hot and professional at the same time. “How was your day?”
I’d ordered some supplies to take to her house tomorrow so I could get to work. I’d have to cover the bullet holes on the outside of the house before I applied a new coat of paint and would need to replace the windows that had been shattered. The inside would require a lot more work, the kitchen counter needing to be completely replaced because of the damage. At least the upstairs was in perfect condition. “Good. What about yours?”
“Long…”
I smirked. “Were you able to make heads or tails of the mess they left behind?”
“Yeah—in about five hours.” She set her bag by the door and turned her head toward the kitchen. “Something smells good. Did you cook?”
“No, I asked Laura to cook dinner. Knew you’d be too tired.”
“Well, that’s nice.”
We went into the dining room, and I poured two glasses of wine and set the table with linens and silverware.
She removed the lid to the pot and eyed the chicken that had been kept warm on the lowest setting. “Smells good.” She grabbed two plates and dished up the meat and pasta on both before she sprinkled basil on top and carried them to the table.
We sat together, and when she took the first bite, she moaned. “This is good. I haven’t eaten all day.”
It was good, but not like Francesca’s food. Or maybe I was just biased.
We ate in silence for a while. I gave her a chance to get some food in her stomach and let her settle in before I asked her questions about her day. “So, how was it?”
“I don’t think I saw my dad once today.”
