Dishonorable

by Natasha Knight

  But then, I thought about the amendment to the contract. Had Raphael lied about that? Had my grandfather ever asked for the marriage to be consummated? I should have asked, but I couldn’t. Instead, I managed a thank-you.

  We opened the doors and climbed out. I had Charlie on a leash, and I kept him on it as we walked up the hill toward the house. “It’s bigger than I realized it would be.”

  “About four-hundred acres. And I’ve put a bid in on a nearby property.”

  “A bid? We’re buying more?”

  “You will lose half in three years, Sofia. I want to make sure you have something left once this marriage is dissolved and Amado feels as if he’s gotten his just desserts.”

  I felt the hostility in his voice as if it were a physical thing.

  “But how will you keep it from him?”

  “It will be in your name. Not Guardia Winery. My agreement with Amado is Guardia Winery shares. Not Sofia Guardia’s private property.”

  I’d never have thought of that. Clever, I supposed. And maybe I was naive, like Raphael liked to say, but I was glad I didn’t think of how I could manipulate things to my advantage.

  But there was one question. “How will you buy it? With what money? If it’s not Guardia—”

  He gave me a smile and turned to head into the house. “Don’t worry about that. You just keep that little bit of news to yourself.”

  I followed him inside, appreciating the coolness of the place compared to the heat outside. Although mornings were nice and the air was relatively dry in the region, the afternoon sun could be stifling.

  I found myself in the entryway of what once must have been a grand house. Opposite the beauty of Raphael’s house, this was, as I’d told him, used more like a factory than anything else. Gutted and dirty, it stored machinery and had long counters of work space where employees did their jobs as we walked around, surveying it all.

  “When your mother was younger, we used to come during the harvest. The bedrooms upstairs are still intact. If you’d like to see them—”

  “Yes!” I was so excited, I cut him off. I cleared my throat. “Please.”

  A man approached us with a pleasant, but urgent smile. My grandfather introduced him as the manager. After shaking my hand, the man mentioned something to my grandfather, and Grandfather turned to me.

  “If you don’t mind, you’ll have to go on your own. I have to take care of something.”

  “No, that’s fine. Thanks.”

  Even better. I couldn’t believe my luck.

  “The last room was your mother’s.”

  Leaving them behind, I went up the stairs with Charlie at my side. There were only three bedrooms here. The first was very small, fitting only one single bed and a nightstand inside. There was no mattress on the bed, only the frame, and the walls were bare. The few steps I took inside left my prints in the layer of dust on the floor.

  The second bedroom was twice as large. A king-size bed stood against the far wall. This one had its mattress intact, but it was covered over with a dust cloth. A nightstand on either side held lamps without lightbulbs. A dresser stood against one wall. I tried the drawers but found them empty.

  On my way to the final bedroom, I passed a bathroom. It looked like it hadn’t been updated for some time. As I neared my mother’s room, my stomach fluttered with butterflies. I wondered when she’d been here last, how old she’d been.

  I reached it, laid my hand on the doorknob, and took a deep breath. I needed to be prepared for nothing. The other bedrooms had no personal touches. Anyone could have lived in those rooms. My mother’s might be just as disappointing.

  I opened the door and stepped inside, then, after a moment, closed it behind me.

  Dust covered the floor here too, and I must have been the first person up here in a long time. The room was slightly smaller than the last, and a double bed was pushed against one corner with a window on each wall. I lifted the dustcover to find the mattress and pillow beneath. My mother had once slept on this bed.

  I looked around at the bare walls. Nails had left holes in them. A vanity stood against the wall nearest the bed. I ran my finger through the dusty surface then pulled the drawer open. I smiled.

  Inside, I found an old tube of half-used lipstick in an awful hot pink and a small sample of perfume. I sprayed a little and inhaled and was immediately taken back.

  A tidal wave of emotion passed through me.

  I didn’t have many memories of my parents. I barely remembered what they looked like anymore and had to look at photos of them often. Their voices too I couldn’t remember. I hated that. We had a few videos of birthday parties, but most of the footage was of Lina or I. Either my mom or dad were always behind the camera, and although you could hear them, they weren’t in the videos. The perfume though, that scent. It was my mother’s. I’d forgotten that too.

  I sat on the edge of the seat. My heart hurt at the realization.

  After setting the tiny bottle down, I ran my finger over the surface of the mirror and picked up the tube of lipstick and looked at the brand. It was a cheap drugstore brand I used to buy when I was a teen and had limited funds.

  Taking the lid off, I brought it to my lips and applied some. It was hard and cakey, but I imagined her gliding it across her mouth, and it almost felt like her. It was the closest I would come to my mother physically.

  Pocketing both, I closed the drawer and checked the dresser and closet. I found nothing. Not a piece of clothing. Not a forgotten stuffed animal or book or anything.

  “Sofia?” My grandfather’s voice called from the distance.

  Wiping my hand over my nose and eyes, I went to the door, taking one last look around. “I’m coming.”

  Downstairs, the manager pointed out the new equipment they’d installed, including a new security system. He toured us through the vineyards with Charlie tagging along, playing and running at my feet. As much as I wanted to take him off leash, Grandfather asked that I refrain.

  Only when we sat down at a table set for lunch did I have a few minutes to talk to him while the manager left us with glasses of wine and went to take a call.

  “This is our wine, obviously,” he said to me, gesturing for me to take it.

  I hesitated. He’d never allowed it at home. Not even a small taste. I picked up my glass, and he held his aloft. I touched mine to his.

  “To better relationships,” he said.

  “Do you mean it?” I asked after taking a sip, which was delicious.

  He nodded.

  “Then I want to ask you to give me guardianship of Lina.” His face changed instantly but I continued. “I want to have her here with me. I’ve missed the last four years being away at school, and—”

  “That’s out of the question.”

  “Why? It won’t interfere with your financial arrangement. You can carry on like you always did.”

  “No, Sofia.”

  “I can have the best teachers come to the house. I can—”

  “What about your husband? I’m sure he wouldn’t want your sister hanging around. He hates us, remember that.”

  “He doesn’t hate us.”

  He bowed his head, his lips tight. “Right. He hates me.”

  “I miss my sister.”

  “Then you’ll have to convince Amado to let you return to the States for visits.”

  “Will you at least think about it? Let her stay the summer at least?”

  Two women and the manager returned then, carrying plates of food, warm smiles on their faces. Our conversation came to a halt, and I knew it was hopeless. When Grandfather decided, he decided. It was how it always was growing up. He made the rules. We obeyed them.

  But we weren’t kids anymore. I wouldn’t let him bully me into silence, not with something as important as this.

  I sat through lunch not speaking much, frustration mounting in my belly, rebellion at my powerlessness. While Grandfather and the manager talked business, I pushed food around my plate
and decided Maria was a much better cook. By the time the plates were cleared, I couldn’t hold my tongue any longer.

  “What was Vincent Moriarty doing at your hotel yesterday?” It came out harsher than I’d intended.

  The lone sound of a fork on a dish, then everything went quiet. The manager cleared his throat and focused on picking tiny crumbs of bread off the table.

  “Mr. Moriarty is a business developer in this area. I’m surprised your husband hasn’t mentioned him.”

  “His name is Raphael. Just Raphael. Not Amado. Not ‘your husband.’ And he has. That’s exactly why I’m wondering what you were doing with him.”

  “Ah.”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “The property that I am buying for you, Moriarty has an interest in it as well.”

  “Your meeting was over buying a piece of land?”

  “What did you think? What sort of business did you expect me to be in? Perhaps I’m not the man Raphael has painted me to be, Sofia.”

  Had Raphael lied to me? Was Moriarty legitimate and not a thug at all, like he’d described him? What was his relationship with Moriarty? And why had the man given me chills?

  “I…I didn’t know.”

  “Well, unfortunately, our meeting wasn’t as fruitful as Moriarty would have liked. Truthfully, he tried to convince me the property I wanted wouldn’t be in my best interests to buy.”

  “Why?”

  “It doesn’t matter, really, and neither does he. The bid is in. That’s all that matters.”

  I was grateful then that the women brought dessert out. My grandfather made a show of how it looked too beautiful to be eaten, and the women smiled, blushing a little even. I watched him, this side of him different to the man I knew, charming almost. Not a man capable of doing the things Raphael claimed he did. Certainly not capable of threatening a man’s life.

  But then again, didn’t my presence here, didn’t the ring that weighed heavy on my finger, prove otherwise?

  Although Grandfather smiled, something cold settled in his eyes, and it chilled me.

  I needed to tread very carefully here. Liars came in all shapes and sizes.

  So did monsters.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Raphael

  The looks on their faces when they saw me approach their cozy little lunch was priceless. I wished I had a camera. Shock and awe felt about the right words to describe it. At least as far as Sofia went. I had a feeling the old man expected me.

  When Eric had called to tell me neither she nor the dog were anywhere to be found, I knew exactly where she would be. Or at least whom she’d be with. She had ignored me completely and done the opposite of what I’d said. Which I guess meant she hadn’t ignored me completely. I did always try to see the silver fucking lining.

  I’d called the hotel in Siena where her grandfather was staying, and it had taken only a few minutes for me to get them to tell me where their driver was taking him. Guardia Winery.

  “Well, well, what a surprise,” Marcus said, wiping his mouth with his napkin.

  I ignored him, my eyes on my disobedient wife instead. In that moment, I realized I couldn’t name the storm of emotions swirling inside me. They were too confused, too strange.

  “Nice lunch?” I forced my voice to sound calm, but it didn’t. Not by a long shot.

  Charlie yapped at her feet, his leash secured under her chair the only thing keeping him from running to me. As if I were his master to greet.

  “Yes, it was,” she said, taking the napkin off her lap and setting it beside her plate. “We’re out of dessert, or I’d offer you some.” She rose to her feet, surprising me.

  “Are you leaving?” her grandfather asked. “So soon?”

  “If Raphael came all this way to get me, I don’t want to keep him waiting. He has a lot of meetings. Busy man, you know.”

  She said good-bye to the men.

  “Just a minute, Sofia,” her grandfather said.

  She stopped. He nodded to the manager, who’d reached into his pocket to produce two keys on a ring. Marcus took them and held them out to her.

  “These will open the gate down below when it’s locked as well as the house itself.”

  She looked confused.

  “Take it. It’s still yours, after all.”

  She reached out her hand to take the keys. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  A moment later, she turned to me. “You didn’t have to come pick me up. My grandfather would have dropped me off.”

  I fumed. My fingernails dug into my palm. When I got her home…

  “Get your dog, and let’s go,” I snapped.

  “Like I said, you didn’t have to come.”

  Her grandfather watched us, barely able to keep the pleased smile from his face. She picked Charlie up, and I had the feeling she was working very hard to keep from having to meet my eyes.

  Once she reached me, I took her arm and tugged her close.

  “Let go.”

  “I should get you a leash.”

  “I bet you’d like that. Jerk.”

  “Coming here with him was a stupid thing to do.”

  We reached the car, and I opened the passenger side door to let her in. She sat down and set the pup on her lap. Once I got in and started the car, she spoke.

  “It wasn’t stupid. Lina was gone with Damon. What was I supposed to do, hang out with Eric?”

  “I don’t know, play with your dog, swim, read. Take a fucking nap.”

  “I’m sure many women would envy my position, but you know I needed to talk to him.”

  I turned to her and glimpsed the bluish marks on her neck. Marks I’d left. I swallowed my rebuke and returned my attention to the road.

  “Eric is there to keep you safe, Sofia,” I said more calmly ten minutes later.

  “My grandfather doesn’t pose a threat. Not to me.”

  “He may not, but his associates do.”

  “Moriarty isn’t an associate.”

  Raphael glanced at me and chuckled. “Is that so?”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Did your grandfather tell you that?”

  She seemed confused. I knew there couldn’t be any truth to it. The old man was a manipulative liar.

  “And what about becoming your sister’s legal guardian? Did you ask that? And did he readily agree? Putting his grandchildren before himself?”

  She shifted in her seat and looked straight ahead. “He refused outright.”

  I didn’t say anything, although I wanted to.

  “Go on, Raphael, don’t hold back. Don’t you want to tell me you told me so?”

  “Believe it or not, I wish I were wrong in this case.”

  She exhaled and shook her head, looking out the side window.

  “Did you think for a minute your sister might be safer there than here? At least for now?”

  “Safer?”

  “I have enemies, your grandfather being one of them. But Moriarty poses a more imminent threat.”

  “You said—”

  “I said I’d keep you safe, and I plan to. But it would be easier if I didn’t have to chase you around Tuscany, and your sister physically not being here is better for her. Your grandfather will take care of her.”

  “He wouldn’t hurt me either.”

  “I know he wouldn’t physically hurt you.”

  Our eyes met, and I saw a thousand and one questions behind them. But she didn’t ask even one. She doubted. She doubted her grandfather. She doubted me. And she should. She’d be smart not to trust either of us.

  “Can you see how her not being here may be safer for her? Out of reach of Moriarty.”

  “What do you owe him?”

  “I owe him nothing. My father, on the other hand, owed him half a million dollars.”

  Her mouth fell open. “Half a million dollars?”

  I nodded.

  “Why?”

  “He stole from him. Like the fucki
ng idiot he was.”

  “Can’t you just pay him off?”

  “It’s half a million dollars, Sofia. Besides, it’s not my debt to pay. If I paid this one off, I’d be sending a message. I want it to be known that I will not pay for my father’s mistakes. His sins are his. I’m no longer his whipping boy.”

  “What are all your meetings about?”

  “Vineyard. I’m thinking about selling.”

  “Sell the land?”

  “The land. The house. All of it.”

  “Raphael—”

  “I wonder if it wouldn’t be better. To walk away from everything. Start fresh.”

  “But it’s home. You said so. It’s where you remember your mother. Your brothers. You said it’s where you remember being happy. If it were me, and I had something of my parents, I wouldn’t give it up, no matter what.”

  Did she think I took this decision lightly? We sat quietly for ten minutes. “Your neck, Sofia,” I finally said.

  She wrapped one hand around it.

  “I’m sorry. I can get very…angry.”

  “I noticed.”

  I turned to her. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Then don’t. You have to figure out how to deal with the anger.”

  “How do you not despise me?”

  “How could I? How could I hate you? You’re a victim. Maybe more of one than me.”

  “I don’t know that there are degrees or that they matter.”

  “What do your brothers think about the sale?”

  “Doesn’t matter. I own it.”

  “Raphael, you want to—”

  “I’m not decided yet,” I said honestly. “One way or the other.”

  “But—”

  “Leave it, Sofia. I need to think.”

  “You’d do this?”

  I didn’t reply. Instead, I took the turn onto the property. Lina and Damon walked out of the house together to greet us.

  Sofia leaped out of the car after Charlie, hugging first her sister, then Damon. He said something to her, but I didn’t hear it. From the look on her face, it was a reproach. Good.

  Lina took Sofia’s hand, and they went into the house. But just before they were out of sight, I noticed the look Lina threw over her shoulder at Damon. There was something strange about it. Something unexpected.