I haven’t had any coffee yet and could really use a cup. “Vuoi un caffè?”
“Sì. Grazie.”
I went into the kitchen, surprised not to find Nonna Bella making breakfast. Instead, it looked as though she hadn’t been in yet.
I made us each a coffee, put some fruit on a plate, and met Paolo out on the terrazza.
“Grazie,” he said a second time.
“Why are you here, Paolo?” I asked for the third time.
“Ever since that night…seeing you in London…I told you then that I missed you.”
I took a sip of coffee and then a bite of strawberry. “When I saw you with…”
“Donnatella.”
“Right. I thought you’d moved on.”
He leaned forward, covered my hand with his, and looked into my eyes. “I don’t want to move on. I want you, Pia. We could be good together if you’d just give us a chance.”
I moved my hand away, scooted my chair back, stood, and walked over to the railing. “Why me?”
“What do you mean?”
“There are hundreds of other women in Tuscany more interesting than I am.”
He walked over and grasped my hand with his. “You’ve never realized how alluring you are, Pia. There is no other woman in all of Italy I’d rather spend time with than you.”
I laughed. “Sorry if this offends you, Paolo, but I cannot believe that.”
“Give me a chance to prove it to you.”
Was I being foolish? Paolo had been good to me. He’d worked hard at Valentini, and I knew he’d been disappointed when I told him I was ready to take over after I finished college. He’d asked then if I would consider a relationship with him, and I’d said I wasn’t ready to think about dating anyone. He’d accepted my rejection gracefully, and as I’d said, when I saw him in London, I thought he’d moved on.
“Go out to dinner with me. Spend time with me. Let’s get to know each again.”
“I’m very busy…”
“Dinner, Pia. Let’s start there. If by the end of our meal, I’ve bored you too much, you can decline another date with me.”
Why did it feel like if I agreed, I’d be cheating on Mylos? We’d never been together as a couple nor could we be. Our lives were full, and they were led in two different places.
He’d never asked for more than the brief interludes we shared, nor had I. I was twenty-six years old, and like Paolo said, I did little other than work. Why not accept his offer?
“Okay. Dinner.”
Paolo smiled. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow night at seven. We’ll go into the village.”
I took our cups and dishes into the kitchen after he left. Georgio was there, looking as though he’d been waiting for me.
“Hi,” I said, not liking the look on his face.
“Hey. I have some bad news.”
I set the things I carried in on the counter and walked closer to him. “What’s wrong, Georgio?”
“It’s Nonna Bella…”
I covered my mouth when his eyes filled with tears. “What’s happened?”
“She’ll be okay, but she had a heart attack last night.”
“She did? How do I not already know this?”
“I didn’t want to bother your family—”
“Bother our family? You are our family, Georgio. Both you and Nonna Bella. Tell me what happened!”
“She called me last night and said she wasn’t feeling well. When I arrived, her color didn’t look good and she was having a hard time breathing. I rushed her to the emergency room, and they confirmed she’d had a heart attack.”
“When was this?”
He ran his hands through his hair. “Around nine.”
Georgio had moved off of the estate shortly after he was promoted to winemaker. His place in the village was at least twenty minutes away. “Why didn’t she tell one of us? Call one of us? Why didn’t you?”
“I already told you.”
I nodded. His mother had had a heart attack. The last thing Georgio needed was for me to berate him or her for not letting us know she needed help.
“Tell me what I can do.”
He raised his head as if my words surprised him. “It will be quite a while before she’s able to come back to work. If ever.”
“Okay.”
“I’d like to ask that you consider letting her live here until I find another place for her.”
“No.”
“No? Jesus, Pia—”
“No, you will not find another place for her. She will stay in the home she’s always known, for as long as she’d like. She can stay there forever.”
“But…”
I waited, but he didn’t continue. “But what, Georgio?”
“I’ve just told you. She might not be able to come back to work—”
“I don’t care about that. I mean, I care very much about Nonna Bella, but if she can’t come back to work, it makes no difference. We’re not going to ask her to leave her home. Additionally, she’ll continue to draw the same salary.”
His eyes opened wide. “For how long?”
“Forever.”
“You can’t afford to do that. This place is already in trouble.”
Georgio was upset about his mother. I was too. He was stressed, tired, and uncertain about the future. I got all that. “Let me worry about Valentini. You worry about your mother.”
I saw the struggle from within him. He was a proud man, but in this case, he needed to accept what I was telling him. He had no choice. Even if he disagreed, it didn’t matter. I would still do everything I could for Nonna Bella. It saddened me to think she felt as though she couldn’t call upon me if she was feeling poorly. I could’ve gotten to her in a matter of minutes.
“Thank you,” I heard Georgio say as he turned to walk out.
“May I see her?”
He turned around as though my question surprised him. “Of course.” I watched him walk away.
A few minutes after I started washing the dishes Paolo and I had used, Georgio came back.
“Do you think you’ll look for another cook?”
I shrugged. “I wouldn’t want Nonna Bella to think we’re anxious to replace her.”
He nodded. “I might have another solution.”
“Tell me.”
“My cousin, Gabriella, might be able to help out, at least for a while.”
Gabriella? This was the first I’d heard of Georgio having a cousin, but considering his mother didn’t trust us to call when she didn’t feel well, maybe I didn’t know their family as well as I always thought I did.
Later that afternoon, I went to the hospital to visit her only to find she was no longer there. I tried to call Georgio, but my call went straight to voicemail. When I returned to Valentini, I stopped by her cottage, but no one answered the door.
I needed to get back to the winery, but I needed to talk with my mamma more. I found her resting in bed. For several weeks, my mother had been ill. Our cook’s heart attack only made me worry about her more.
“How is Nonna Bella doing?” she asked.
“She wasn’t there.”
She lowered the book she’d been reading. “What do you mean?”
“Exactly that. The hospital said they didn’t have a patient by the name of Isabella Rossi.”
“Odd.”
“Georgio said his cousin, Gabriella, could fill in temporarily, longer if necessary.”
“It’s your decision, Pia.”
“Did you know he had a cousin?”
“No, but I do know Nonna Bella has a sister who lives in the village. Maybe it’s her daughter.”
“Mamma, doesn’t it bother you that we know so little of their family?”
She shook her head. “It isn’t our business, Pia.”
I walked to the winery, feeling as though my universe had tilted. Things I’d always believed would never change, were, faster than I could keep up. Perhaps this was what growing up felt like. The things th
at had always been, weren’t any longer, and I, like everyone else, was expected to adapt.
For the next several weeks, Paolo and I saw each other often. It was over an hour’s drive from his family’s estate in Chianti to Valentini, but he never complained. At least twice a week, he’d come and take me to dinner. Some days he’d arrive earlier and try to coax me into leaving work. It was rare that I could, but he remained good-natured about it.
He offered his help, and when I declined, he didn’t push.
I found myself looking forward to spending time with him, but my attraction to him paled whenever I thought of Mylos.
I received a few more letters from him. When each arrived, I felt happier than I did whenever Paolo showed up to take me out. There were times I thought about telling him we couldn’t see each other anymore, but other than a few chaste goodnight kisses, we weren’t much more than friends anyway.
During the harvest, I had far less time to spend with Paolo, and he too was needed in Chianti. At the end of a particularly busy week, he walked into the winery, surprising me.
“There she is,” he said, bringing me a bouquet of flowers. I realized then that he’d left more than one message and I’d never returned his calls.
“Thank you, and I’m sorry. It’s been so—”
“Busy.” He smiled. “I understand. It’s the nature of the wine business. But, Pia, you’re running yourself into the ground. Do you realize we haven’t spoken for almost three weeks?”
Had it been that long?
He took a step forward and cupped my cheek. “You can’t do this alone, and you know it. Why can’t you let go of your pride and let me help you?”
Perhaps it was due to how tired I was, but I wondered if Paolo would dare say the same thing to a man.
“I’m perfectly capable of running Valentini, Paolo.”
“Are you, Pia? Truly?”
“What do you mean?”
“It isn’t a secret that your sales are down since I left and you took over.”
I bristled. “Everyone’s are.”
“Not everyone’s.”
After a few years of high yields, production was up, and as a result, there was less demand. Additionally, with older estates like ours being purchased by corporations who could afford to invest a great deal of money into both equipment and marketing, it was harder for the ones that remained family-owned to compete.
“I have some other things in the works to offset our decline in sales.” The minute I uttered the words, I wished I hadn’t.
“You do? I’d love to hear about them.”
Paolo was as charming and gracious as always, and there was no good reason for me not to tell him. Except I didn’t. “I’ll let you know more as they develop.”
He leaned forward and kissed me. “Beautiful, sweet, brave Pia. Always determined to do things on your own. When will you learn you can ask for help?”
He sounded like Lucia, but with less sincerity. “Perhaps when I need it.”
“What do you say we go into the village for dinner?”
“Thank you, Paolo, but no. If you’d called first, I would’ve told you I was too busy.”
“I did call. Multiple times.”
“I’m sorry, the answer is still no.”
I could see his body tensing, but the smile remained on his face nonetheless. I knew he was angry, but he was fighting hard to control it. Why?
“I’m leaving in a few days on a sales’ trip, first to the UK and then to America. That was one of the reasons I’ve been calling. I’m offering to represent Valentini along with our winery.”
Interesting. I couldn’t be the only person in the region who’d come up with the idea to boost sales by increasing exports. However, I wouldn’t trust anyone to represent Valentini on my behalf—even Paolo.
“When are you leaving?”
“As I said, in a few days. Once the harvest has wound down.”
“Instead of representing Valentini, why don’t you take me with you? I can’t go to America, but I could go to the UK.”
I could tell by the look on his face, he was stunned.
“Of course…sure…that would be wonderful,” he stammered. When he reached out and hugged me, my body stiffened. “Pia?”
“I’m sorry, Paolo. As you said, I’ve been working so much. I’m just exhausted.”
He kissed my forehead and looked into my eyes. “We’ll have some time to relax during our travels. I’m so pleased you’re coming with me.”
“I said I could go to the UK, Paolo. I can’t afford to be away very long.”
After he left, I wondered if he’d heard me.
14
Grinder
Beijing, China
This was a standard extraction mission, in a country that was anything but. The Invincible team, as we’d begun calling ourselves, was brought in by Z Alexander to extract a missing MI6 agent, two CIA operatives, and a high-ranking British diplomat. The four were last seen in Hong Kong, but we’d received intel that they were now being held in China’s capital.
As part of a complex negotiation, a meeting was scheduled to take place at the Great Hall of the People, a state building located at the western edge of Tienanmen Square in Beijing.
During that meeting, the UK and US ambassadors to China would publicly announce the exchange of seven Chinese dissidents who had been given asylum in our respective countries, for the four men we were there to extract.
However, that would never happen. Instead, the minute the ambassadors and Chinese officials began their introductions, Edge and Rile would get word to extract the agents from where they were being held, while I intercepted and retrieved the diplomat.
There were four other agents responsible for ensuring the ambassadors’ safe transport once the Chinese realized what was happening.
My part of the mission went off without a hitch; I was escorting the man in my charge into the waiting armored transport when I heard Rile shout through the earpiece. “Got ’em.” It was followed a few seconds later by, “We’re out.”
The transmission should’ve ended then, but it didn’t. The diplomat had just gotten into the transport when I heard several rounds of gunfire.
“Man down!” shouted Rile. I slammed the door closed behind the diplomat and raced in the direction of the predetermined exit point, arriving just as Rile stormed out with Edge in his arms.
I heard the familiar sound of a helicopter landing—it had to be a cobra—and watched as my best friend’s body was handed off to a medic. Moments after Rile and I climbed in behind him, the chopper took off.
“Lynx,” I said through the mic. “If you can hear this, this is Grinder. Edge was hit, but he’s alive. The bullet penetrated his right arm. I’m with him, and we’re transporting your brother to Seoul.”
“Good, copy,” I heard Lynx respond.
“The others?” I asked Rile, who had his hand on his earpiece.
“Mission successful,” he reported. “Four subjects along with both ambassadors and additional agents are being transported by Chinook.”
“What about Lynx?”
“As soon as they’re able, they’ll get him to Seoul.”
When I first went to work for MI5, after my stint in rehab, Lynx had come to me and asked if I’d be willing to be the second person listed on Edge’s medical power of attorney. Given their parents had been killed in a car accident when he and Edge were teenagers, I immediately agreed.
Doing so meant that until Lynx arrived in South Korea, I would be the one giving the doctors the okay to do whatever was necessary to make sure my friend both lived and had use of his arm.
Three weeks later, Edge was stable enough to be transported from Seoul to a hospital in London. There, his doctors anticipated he’d required at least one additional surgery, potentially more, in order to regain full use of his hand.
The man was the orneriest wanker I’d ever known. I wondered if I’d been just as bad. Worse, probably.
�
��Exponentially worse, actually,” Carson said when he met us at the hospital, and I asked.
I’d contacted him to see if he did the type of rehab Edge would require, and was pleased to find out he did. I immediately hired him, knowing if he could put up with me, he could handle my best friend.
“Thanks for meeting me for lunch,” my sister said the day after I’d arrived back in London. “How’s Edge?”
I told her about his attitude. “He’s a right bloody wanker.”
“No wonder you are such good friends.”
I gave her a scowl and picked up the menu.
“Miles, have you talked to Pia recently?”
“I have not.”
“Do you intend to?”
I set the menu down. “Why do you ask?”
She shrugged. “I think you should. In fact, I think she may be on her way here as we speak.”
“Here?”
“London.”
“I see. Did you happen to mention I’d be here?”
“No, Miles. I haven’t spoken to her in several days, but when I last did, she gave me the dates she’d be in town.”
“What’s the reason for her visit?”
“A business trip is my understanding, but, Miles, she isn’t traveling alone.”
I scrubbed my face with my hand. “Get to the point, Lily.”
“She’s coming here with someone named Paolo.”
Paolo? Could it be the same wanker she was dating when we first met? The one she ran into the night of Lily and Wills’ wedding celebration and my homecoming party? The same night Pia had changed my life forever? “He’s married. Perhaps, as you said, it’s a business trip.”
Lily peered up at me. “If he was, he isn’t any longer.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I got the impression they were dating.”
I sat back in my chair and attempted to tamp down the anger and jealousy I felt the moment my sister said Paolo’s name.
Did I have any right to feel this way? Wasn’t Pia free to live her life as she saw fit? The last time I saw her was the day she dropped me off at rehab for my opioid addiction, and that was over two years ago. We’d written letters—sporadically, on my part in particular—but neither of us mentioned trying to see each other again.
Grinded (The Invincibles Book 3) Page 11