The Villa

alternatively into Liechtenstein. The goal had been merely to put as many countries between him and Italy as possible. But while looking north, Donato had failed to look at his own ground. His mistress wasn't as dim as he'd supposed, nor half as loyal. She'd seen a news report on the television while lounging in a bubble bath and had found his cache of cash in his traveling case.
    She'd taken the money, booked a flight, placed a single anonymous call. And had been on her way, considerably richer, to the French Riviera when the efficient Swiss police had broken into Donato's room and plucked him out from under the bedcovers.
    Now he was in a Swiss cell, bemoaning his fate and cursing all women as the bane of his existence.
    He had no money to hire a lawyer and desperately needed one to fight extradition for as long as possible. For as long as it took, for God's sake, for him to think his way clear.
    He would throw himself on the mercy of La Signora. He would escape and run to Bulgaria. He would convince the authorities he'd done nothing more than run off with his mistress.
    He would rot in prison for the rest of his life.
    With his thoughts circling this same loop, around and around, he looked up to see a guard on the other side of the bars. Informed he had a visitor, he got shakily to his feet. At least the Swiss had had the decency to let him dress, though he'd been allowed no tie, no belt, not even the laces in his Guccis.
    He smoothed his hair with his hands as he was taken to the visiting area. He didn't care who'd come to see him, as long as someone would listen.
    When he saw Sophia on the other side of the glass, his spirits soared. Family, he thought. Blood would listen to blood.
    "Sophia! Grazie a Dio." He fell into his chair, fumbled with the phone.
    She let him ramble, the panic, the pleas, the denials, the despair. And the longer he did so, the thicker the shell grew around her heart.
    "Stai zitto."
    He did indeed shut up at her quiet order. He must have seen that she stood for her grandmother now, and that her expression was cold and merciless.
    "I'm not interested in excuses, Donato. I'm not here to listen to your pitiful claims that it's all been a horrible mistake. Don't ask for my help. I'm going to ask the questions, you'll give the answers. Then I'll decide what will be done. Is that clear?"
    "Sophia, you have to listen—"
    "No, I don't. I don't have to do anything. I can get up, walk away. You, on the other hand, can't. Did you kill my father?"
    "No. In nome di Dio ! You can't believe that."
    "Under the circumstances, I find it easy to believe. You stole from the family."
    He started to deny it and, reading his answer in his eyes, Sophia set the phone down, began to get to her feet. Panicked, Don slapped his palm on the glass, shouted. When the guards started forward, she coolly gestured them back, picked up the phone again.
    "You were about to say?"
    "Yes. Yes, I stole. I was wrong, I was stupid. Gina, she makes me crazy. She nags for more. More babies, more money, more things. I took money. I thought, what did it matter? Please, Sophia, cam, you won't let them keep me in prison over money."
    "Think again. I would, yes. My grandmother might not. But it wasn't just money. You tampered with the wine. You killed an old, innocent man. For money, Don? How much was he worth to you?"
    "It was a mistake, an accident. I swear it. It was only supposed to make him a little sick. He knew—He saw… I made a mistake." His hand shook as he rubbed it over his face.
    "Knew what, Donato. Saw what?"
    "In the vineyard. My lover. He disapproved, and might have spoken of it to Zia Tereza."
    "If you continue to play me for a fool, I'll walk away and leave you to rot. Believe it. The truth, Don. All of it."
    "It was a mistake, I swear it. I listened to poor advice. I was misled." Desperate, he dragged at his already loosened collar. His throat was closing, choking him. "I was to be paid, you see, and I needed money. If the company had some trouble, if there was bad press, lawsuits, I would be paid more. Baptista, he saw… people I spoke with.
    Sophia, please. I was angry, very angry. I've worked hard. My whole life. La Signora never valued me. A man has his pride. I wanted her to value me."
    "And killing an innocent old man, attacking her reputation was the answer?"
    "The first, that was an accident. And it was the company's reputation—"
    "It's one in the same. How could you not know that?"
    "I thought, if there's