Page 40 of Dario

I ignored the slip. “I know you were his point of contact with Long Acres, and I need to know where he was planning on taking his mamma the day I was originally going to marry Sofia.”

His lips parted soundlessly, shock on his face. “I—”

I just kept my stone-cold gaze on him. I knew he had no way out. He knew he had no way out. He was silent for a moment then met my gaze. “If Alessandro is your husband and Caterina is dead, why can’t Alessandro tell you himself?”

I had to hand it to him. He knew what I could do. His very pregnant wife was upstairs. I could destroy him, but loyalty was a valuable asset. And loyalty you couldn’t buy? Priceless. “I will pay you five hundred thousand dollars for the information.”

He was younger than me by four years, but still held my gaze, then smiled wistfully. “My mother worked six days a week at the big house. On top of taking in laundry and looking after me and my papà, who was in a wheelchair and hadn’t worked for fifteen years. Four years ago, she hurt her back. It was one of those silly injuries. She missed her footing on a stair and fell awkwardly. She was in agony. Three months prior to that my wife’s uncle left her the florist business. I knew it had potential, but it was a mess. I was working seventy, eighty hour weeks to try to keep it afloat on top of still going to college. Mamma couldn’t do her job because she could barely move. Elisabetta told her she was fired, but Alessandro stepped in and told Elisabetta he would do Mamma’s duties along with his own. He did. Alessandro worked sixteen, seventeen-hour days for nearly two months while Mamma recovered. And much to my eternal shame, because I was so involved in the store, I didn’t know.” He bent his head and was quiet for a moment, but then looked up. “We both know I cannot risk my wife or unborn child, so if you insist, I will be forced to tell you, and I absolutely know your relationship and your business, Signor Banetti, have nothing to do with me. I will say, however, that we are both very lucky men because the people we married will always be the very best of us.”

He stayed quiet. I glanced at the coffee, lifted the cup, and drained it. It was good coffee. I stood and held out my hand. Bernardo jumped up and returned the handshake. “I will take your advice,” I said solemnly.

When Lucio and I got back into the car, I called La Fortuna. Maybelle was the senior manager on duty and answered my call. “Can you please ensure that all flower arrangements anywherein the suites or reception areas are sourced from Bernardo Fabbri from this point forward and pass that directive to the group. Gia will have his business name.” I hung up. Bernardo Fabbri was going to have so much work he would need to employ another ten people. I smiled.Per new location.

Lucio, of course, never said a word.

Gia was still on the laptop when we returned.

“How did we pick the nursing home?”

“Top ten in the state,” Gia murmured. “Of those, there were only three that had beds.”

“Any similarities. Owners? Staff?”

He let out a frustrated hum. “Nothing. Long shot, but let me look at residents’ families...” He was silent a while. So long that we both had the chance to clean up and shower. “So, this connection is maybe expected.”

“What is?” My belly tightened at his tone.

“There’s a catholic priest who visits five of the homes, including The Grove, which as I said isn’t unusual. There’s a rabbi that visits four.”

“But?” I pressed, knowing Gia.

“The same loan shark that funded our gambler you probably still have strung up is connected with a Jonas Wright. Just so happens Jonas Wright is our Catholic priest’s grandson, and by the looks of things has got himself in a lot of trouble.”

I stood remembering the nurse showing the priest into Caterina’s room, and maybe five minutes later, Alessandro had fled into the bathroom and been violently sick.

“No internal cameras,” Gia confirmed, but I didn’t really need to ask. The likelihood they had any was miniscule.

I looked at the time again. Four hours until I had to be on that boat, or I had to stop it sailing.

And then there was Alessandro. He was either a victim or fooling us all. I didn’t think his grief had been an act. Thathad seemed unpretentious, raw. Maybe I needed to attempt a conversation?

Whatever I did, I was finding it harder and harder to keep my distance from him.

When I got home, Alvize reported that Nonna had left some food keeping warm and had retired. There had been no sign of Alessandro. I let myself back inside our bedroom and paused. He was curled up, as if for protection. His breath was still light and choppy, so I knew he wasn’t sleeping deeply, but before I could take a step toward the bed, his eyes opened.

I felt the raw sadness in him, as if he’d taken a fist to my heart and squeezed. He didn’t say a word, but his anger dissipating wasn’t a good thing, because that well of rage inside him had been replaced by hurt. I could see the pain in his eyes and couldn’t keep still. I yanked at my shirt but didn’t touch my pants as I reached the bed, lay down, and pulled him close. There was a sheet between us, but it didn’t matter. He was cold and I wrapped my body around his. He inhaled as if he was going to speak, but the tears started instead. This man. My man. He was killing me.

After what seemed like an eternity when I should have been admitting everything because I was ready to give him the truth and be damned, his crying slowed, and he sighed once again. I was still trying to decide what to say as I felt him go boneless in my arms. Carefully, I laid him down. He didn’t even stir. I let myself out of the room, walked downstairs, noting George by the door, and headed into the kitchen where Lucio and Alvize were getting coffee. I grabbed a couple of bottles of water from the fridge and some aspirin and returned to the bedroom.

Alessandro hadn’t moved. I left the water and pills by the bed, walked into my dressing room, and found a notepad and a pen. Quickly, I wrote a note saying I would be back as soon as I could, but Nonna and the guards were here, and extra outside.

My hand trembled slightly, the urge to write something else riding me hard, but what? What could I possibly write that I could never say out loud?

I put the pad next to the water and bent down, kissing his hair, before grabbing a clean shirt and leaving the room again.

“Who do we have?” I looked at Lucio. I knew Lucio also had a detective on speed-dial if we found what we were expecting.

“Mario, Thomas. Alvize.” He nodded to the man.

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