The Villa

"I worked for the son of a bitch. For years. Sat in meetings with him, had lunches, late-night strategy sessions. Some of them were about how to woo over some of Giambelli's accounts, some of yours. That's business."
    "That's right."
    "When La Coeur copped the exclusive on Allied flights to and from Europe, I went out and celebrated with him. We nudged Giambelli out on that one, barely. I patted myself on the back for days over that. Now I look at the timing, go through the steps and realize we copped it because he had the inside track. Don fed him Giambelli's bid before it was made."
    "That's the way some people do business."
    "I don't."
    It was the tone that made Ty stop. He supposed somehow over the past months they'd become friends. Almost family. Near enough that he understood the guilt, and the frustration.
    "Nobody's saying that, David. Nobody thinks that."
    "No. But I remember how much I wanted that account." He started to jam his hands in his pockets, and his bad arm vibrated. "Goddamn it."
    "You going to finish beating yourself up soon? Because I've got a lot of work to catch up on, seeing as I had to go to Italy to help wipe your blood off the street. You getting yourself shot really put a crimp in my schedule."
    David turned back toward Tyler. "Did you use that same tone when you suggested that fucker DeMorney get an X ray?"
    "Probably. It's the one I use when somebody's being annoyingly stupid."
    The raw edges in David's stomach smoothed away, and the first glint of humor sparked into his eyes. "I'd take a swing at you over that, but you're bigger than me."
    "Younger, too."
    "Bastard. Now that I think of it, I could take you down, but I'll give you a break because Sophia's heading this way. I'd hate for her to have to watch her future stepfather kick your ass."
    "In your dreams."
    "I'm going to go sulk in the caves." He started off, pausing as he passed Tyler. "Thanks."
    "Anytime." He walked the opposite way until he met Sophia. "You're late. Again."
    "Priorities. Where's David going? I wanted to ask how he was feeling."
    "Do yourself a favor and don't. He's at the restless stage of his recovery. What priorities?"
    "Oh, solidifying some shaky accounts, manipulating the press, consulting with legal. Just another quiet day for the wine heiress. How are we doing out here?"
    "Nights've been cool and moist. Brings on mildew. We'll do the second sulfur spraying right after the grapes have set. I'm not worried."
    "Good. I'll carve out some time for the vintner tomorrow, and you carve out some for the promotion whiz. Back to teamwork. Now, why haven't you kissed me hello?"
    "Because I'm working. I want to check the new plantings, run by the old distillery and check on the fermentation vats. And we're testing today in the caves. Then we've got to move your stuff over to my place."
    "I haven't said I was—"
    "But since you're here anyway." He leaned down and kissed her.
    "We're going to have to discuss this," she began, then pulled her ringing phone out of her pocket. "Very soon." she added. "Sophia Giambelli. Chi? Si, va bene." She angled the phone away. "It's Lieutenant DeMarco's office. Don was transferred to his custody today. Ah." She shifted the phone back in place. "Si, buon giorno. Ma che… scusi? No, no."
    Still clutching the phone, she sank onto the ground. "Come!" she managed. Gripping Tyler's hand before he could take the phone from her, she shook her head fiercely. "Donato." She lifted her stunned gaze to Tyler's. "E' morto."
    He didn't need her to translate the last. He took the phone from her and, identifying himself, asked how Donato Giambelli had died.
     
    "A heart attack. He wasn't yet forty." Sophia paced. "This is my doing. I pushed him, then I went to Jerry and pushed him. I might as well have drawn a target on Don's back."
    "You didn't do it alone," Tyler reminded her. "I'm the one who yanked DeMorney's chain."
    "Basta," Tereza ordered, but without heat. "If they find Donato died from drugs, if they find he was murdered while in the hands of the police, there's no fault here. Donato's choices put him where he was, and the police were obliged to protect as well as contain him. I won't have blame cast on my house."
    And that, she determined, would end that. "He was a disappointment to me. But I remember he was once a sweet young boy with a pretty smile. I'll mourn the little boy."
    She reached out, found Eli's hand, brought it to her lips in a gesture Sophia had never seen her make.
    " Nonna