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‘Yes.’

Only that was not the point his grandfather was trying to make.

‘Then why so closed, Gabe, why so cynical when it comes to love?’

Gabe shook his head. He couldn’t answer that, not really, not without going deep inside his soul, and it was by far too dark and murky there. ‘I have to go.’

‘Now?’

‘Yes.’ He stood and when he did, Geo looked properly at his grandson.

‘You’re looking very…’ Geo paused for a moment ‘…local.’

Indeed he was. Instead of his usual crisp shirt and tailored fine wool suit, donned for his endless online meetings, he was in local mode today, dressed in sand-coloured linen pants and a white linen shirt with casual shoes and, for once, unshaven.

‘Where are you off to?’

‘I stopped telling you my movements a long time ago.’ Then he relented. His grandfather would see the chopper heading off anyway. ‘I’m going to Capri.’

‘With?’

‘A friend,’ he said. ‘As I already told you, I’m not here on death watch.’

He was, of course, but it clearly pleased his grandfather that he was going out for the day and, rather than regretting offering to take Stella out in the helicopter, as would usually be the case by now, he was looking forward to it.

‘You should wear the rust jacket,’ Geo said with authority. He had always been the sharpest dresser and the rust jacket was indeed a family heirloom. ‘It’s in my dressing room wardrobe.’

‘No, it isn’t,’ Gabe said. ‘I already pinched it.’

It was so nice to see his grandfather laugh and while it might sound odd to be wearing a jacket that belonged to his grandfather, his father had worn it on occasion too. The linen here was perfection and aged better than fine wine. Gabe had every Milan tailor at his disposal but nowhere could beat the sand bleached fabric and the skilled hand-stitching by those who knew how to cut and work with linen.

‘Do you want me to bring anything back—something to eat?’

‘No.’

‘Fine,’ Gabe said, knowing better than to push him, but he wanted at least a little fight to be in his eyes. ‘I’ll head off.’

‘Come and see me in the jacket.’

‘Or you could come and see me,’ Gabe responded, and met his grandfather’s eyes. ‘I thought you just said that you didn’t want me to baby you.’

He watched his lips pinch and felt mean.

Damn you, Geo, don’t just lie there and die.

He walked out, spoke briefly with Eduardo about some paperwork—he was as thin as a heron and wore a black suit, the cuffs on his shirt bore his grandfather’s initials.

The same initials as his, Gabe thought, terrified by the weight of that endless loyalty that would soon be transferred to him.

‘Just leave them for me to sign,’ Gabe said.

‘Pardon?’

Gabe was having to repeat himself rather a lot here!

‘Leave them for me to sign,’ Gabe said, and was about to escape for a quick meeting when he heard his name.

‘Gabriel…’