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He breaks off and looks at me, his expression plain. This is our last project. We both know it. It’s time.
With coffee in my blood, I feel it even more clearly. This is destiny. This is biology… Blood being thicker than water and all that. After a quick shower, I dress and head for the dock. I assume that Giorgio meant he was taking my helicopter to Rocco’s yacht, which I can just barely see if I squint at the horizon. It’s still early enough that the far horizon is hazy and indistinct, but I am almost certain it is there.
The helicopter buzzes away, and I consider a quick run around the island. Yet I know that would make it likely I would miss him. I need to make sure that I can set the agenda for Rocco before he gets to take control of the situation.
Before long, I can see the dark speck of the helicopter hovering in the air. As it approaches, I visualize the conversation. I will offer to take Rocco some breakfast, get him a little bit drunk, maybe even get him a little bit high. Rocco will throw his weight around and brag and drop names. Ultimately, he doesn’t have the stomach or the funds to invest, so at that point I will make it easy for him to leave.
The helicopter finally lands on the helipad of the yacht, and mentally I note how much simpler it will be when we install a helipad at the top of the resort. This situation is fine pre-construction, but won’t be adequate forever.
Giorgio appears on the gangplank first. He scans the garden and sees me, shooting me a look across the distance. An urgent, meaningful look.
He descends slowly, with Rocco trundling immediately behind. His bald head gleams in the early morning light, and his shirt flaps open in the light breeze. His belly sways heavily over his trousers.
Directly afterward, is Veronica.
She pauses at the top of the gangplank for a moment, her hands resting lightly on the rope supports. As her gaze sweeps the island, I can’t help but get the impression that she has a sense of ownership. She almost looks like a queen surveying her land.
I do not have a good feeling about this.
“Rocco, good morning!” I force myself to call out, waving.
We meet in the middle of the dock, smiling and friendly. Rudely, Rocco seems not to notice Veronica directly behind him. Strange, he had such good manners when he first met her. That must be just for the initial meeting.
But it doesn’t seem to dampen her attitude at all. She hangs back, posing shrewdly against the light post on the dock. She’s wearing a silk wrap dress in a mermaid-inspired pattern that ruffles lightly in the breeze. A gift from Rocco, I suppose.
“Great to see you again Rocco. Veronica,” I smile. “You must be starving! Can I get you something—”
“We already ate,” Veronica replies, her voice a sultry coo as she wedges herself behind Rocco’s left arm and slides her hand through. He pats the top of her knuckles reflexively, a gesture more of ownership than of affection.
“Yeah, we can’t stay, lots to do,” Rocco says, pursing his lips and wrinkling his nose.
I catch Veronica staring at me, her eyes traveling up and down. She seems to be making a mental calculation of risk and loss. When she first arrived here, I could’ve sworn she was aiming to make me her conquest. Now that she has found someone else—someone like Rocco—she can’t help but tally up the columns and see if she is in the black.
She startles when our eyes meet, snapping back into focus immediately. She presses her lips together defensively as if to head off any critique of her romantic choices.
“We could just have a quick glass of champagne, though, couldn’t we?” she purrs in Rocco’s bulbous, furry ear. “Just to celebrate?”
I check them both out, surprised. Are they engaged already? She really is a quick worker. She must be so proud.
“That sounds wonderful,” I smile, relieved. “What are we celebrating?”
I turn back toward the island, noting that Giorgio is already ordering the kitchen to prepare a breakfast with champagne. I am really going to miss him. I’m not sure what I will do without him.
“We’re going to be partners, Cal!” Veronica calls out in a triumphant tone that turns my blood cold.
I try to keep walking without stumbling. Without turning around to look at her, I clear my throat.
“How’s that? Partners, you say?”
“We are investing, Cal! Cal? Did you hear what I said?”
Mounting the garden steps, I force myself to turn around and smile. Veronica gives me a venomous smirk, her arms wrapped possessively through Rocco’s. He leers at me, clearly more interested in the acquisition of Veronica than the acquisition of a controlling stake in my project.
“Champagne, definitely!” I smile stiffly.
The dining room is glass on three sides, cantilevered over the hill so that it appears to float in the water. Our table is already set with champagne, figs and cheeses, pastries, and pomegranate seeds.
“Oh, I’m famished!” Veronica singsongs as she approaches.
