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"By now, I'm sure he's forgotten all about it. Including telling me to get my ass back to official work." He shrugged, too proud to ask his brother how he envisioned further cooperation.
"When you send him the contracts, you just staple a pleasant note on the first page."
Dario pursed his mouth. "Exactly. In pink with a little heart on it so he's more inclined to answer me, too."
A grin played around my lips. "So if that's what you're after, you can send a card. Preferably in a bouquet. That conveys the message."
"Why don't I try an orchestra?"
"Or a personal ambassador. Like in the Middle Ages."
"I think I'd rather wait for him to speak up on his own. It won't be long now, he can't collect all the protection money by himself."
"Protection money?" He had already mentioned it once, but until now I had not dared to ask.
"Various companies throughout Italy give us money. In return, we keep the government off their backs and protect them from foreign companies with similar product ranges who are trying to gain a foothold here."
At least it was never boring when I was here, because every day I seemed to learn something new. Whether I understood it or liked it were two unrelated things.
"That's one way to protect the economy," I noted with a slight shake of my head.
It still surprised me in what areas Emilio had his fingers– and how he handled certain things. When you got right down to it, not all of it was even bad. A lot of it was just considered illegal, although it helped some people.
If he bought up entire blocks of apartments, did a refurbishment and sold or rented them at consistent low prices, in the end that only contributed to affordable housing even if he himself used those purchases to make some of the money he made from other areas disappear.
It wasn't often that Dario told me stories like this, but when he did, I used them not only to form an opinion about Emilio but also about the organization he ran.
With his decisions, he shaped the image that was carried to the outside world.
"You better not tell him you know all these things," Dario said after he had read a few pages again. I hadn't returned to the couch yet, but was still leaning against his desk.
"Why would I?"
"We will pay a little visit to my brother soon."
"We? And soon?" I repeated.
Dario nodded. "I must have promised him that during a mentally deranged phase. More or less."
"After you said maybe it's not such a good idea?"
"I still don't think it's a good idea, but I wasn't going to start the next fight with him over a stupid family dinner." He didn't seem like he cared much about my opinion on the subject.
I, however, saw this as the perfect opportunity to tease him a little and provoke a reaction that could only have one outcome in the end.
"I think you need to go alone," I replied, jutting my chin up in the air a bit to get my point across even more.
It worked, because Dario put the pen down and looked at me from below. Reading my facial features. He was thinking about how he could best drive that idea out of my head.
My pulse quickened.
"What?" I asked. "It's not like you get to decide what I do or don't do."
Dario's eyebrows moved upward as he just looked at me and did nothing else.
This attitude made me want to say more to fill the awkward silence.
"I just don't think I'd be comfortable there! My father and I never once ate together in all the years I lived with him." That wasn't even a lie. I just didn't know eating together as a family was about more than just eating food.
