The Villa

the family." Because the day had been long, Tereza gave in and sat. "Hot blood can cloud the judgment. This is a pivotal year, and already before it begins, we have upheaval. You're a beautiful young woman."
    "Some say I look like my grandmother."
    Tereza allowed herself a small smile. She, too, glanced toward the three carved figures, and her eyes softened. "A little, perhaps. But more you favor your grandfather. He was beautiful, like a painting. I married for duty, but it wasn't a hardship. And he was kind. Beauty is a weapon, cam. Take care how you use it, for without that kindness, it will turn and strike back at you."
    Sophia sat. "Am I… hard, Nonna ?"
    "Yes." Tereza reached over, touched her hand lightly to Sophia's. "That's not a bad thing. A soft woman is too easily molded, and too easily bruised. Your mother's been both. She's my daughter, Sophia," she added coolly, when Sophia stiffened. "I will speak my mind there. You're not soft, and you go your own way. I'm pleased with you. I say only that hard can become brittle, without care. Take care."
    "Are you pleased with me, Nonna, because in going my own way, I go yours?"
    "Perhaps. You're Giambelli. Blood tells."
    "I'm also Avano."
    Tereza inclined her head, her voice turned fierce. "You're proof, aren't you, of which line is stronger? Your father's in you. He's a sly man, and you can be sly. He's ambitious, and so are you. But his weaknesses have never been yours. His lack of heart has ruined him as much as his lack of courage. You have both heart and courage, and so you can be hard and not brittle."
    "I know you hate him," Sophia said softly. "Tonight, so do I."
    "'Hate' is a strong word. You shouldn't use it against your father, whatever he is, whatever he's done. I have no hate for Anthony Avano." Tereza got to her feet again. "I have no feelings toward him now. He's made his last choice that concerns me. We'll deal with each other one final time, then he'll no longer exist for me."
    "You mean to cut him loose."
    "He made his choice," Tereza repeated. "Now he'll deal with the consequences of it. It's not for you to worry over." She held out a hand. "Come, you should be at the party. We'll find your mother and show them three generations of Giambelli women."
     
    It was very late when Tony let himself into the apartment. He wondered if anyone knew he had the key, after all this time.
    He'd brought his own bottle of wine, a choice from his personal cellar. The Barolo would keep things civilized. Business discussions, and the word blackmail never entered his mind, should always be conducted in a civilized manner.
    He uncorked the bottle in the kitchen, left the wine on the counter to breathe and selected two glasses. Though he was disappointed not to find fresh fruit in the refrigerator, he made do with the wheel of Brie.
    Even at three in the morning, presentation mattered.
    It was lucky he'd made the appointment so late. It had taken quite some doing to wind Rene down. She'd spent over an hour, even after the drive back to the city, haranguing him about the Giambellis, their treatment of her, his future with the company. And money.
    Money was the main matter, of course.
    He could hardly blame her for it.
    Their lifestyle required a great deal of money. Unlike Pilar, Rene didn't bring unlimited funds to the table. And unlike Pilar, Rene went through money like it would shortly become unfashionable to have any in your pocket.
    No matter, he thought, arranging crackers with the cheese. It would be a simple and civilized matter to increase their cash flow.
    The Giambellis intended to cut him loose. He was certain of that now. Neither Pilar nor Sophia would stand up for him. He'd known that was a possibility, but had chosen to ignore it and hope for the best. Or rather, he admitted here, in private, he'd allowed Rene to push him into a corner.
    But he had options. Any number of options. The first of which should be coming along any minute.
    This first business deal would be a stopgap, buy him time. He had other avenues, and they could be widened if necessary. He had contacts, and prospects.
    Tereza Giambelli would be very sorry she'd underestimated him. A great many people would be sorry.
    In the end he would land on his feet, as he always had. He had no doubt of it.
    The knock on the door made him smile. He poured two glasses of wine, set them and the bottle on a tray with the cheese and crackers. He set the tray on the coffee table in the living room.
    He