by Willa Okati
Chapter Seven
“Elisa, thank God. It is Elisa, yes? Good. Caffè corretto, per favore.” Rick resisted the urge to flop forward and rest his forehead on the cool laminate surface of the small caffè table. Elisa was a kind-hearted soul and might well have patted his head or even asked in sympathetic tones what ailed him, but in his opinion there weren’t any easy, simple answers and he only wanted to spill the whole story once, to Juliano, after which the whole mess would hopefully be taken out of his hands.
Rick set his jaw stubbornly. This is what I want, he reminded himself. We’ve had our reunion, great fun all ’round, but what Adriano needs, the proper treatment he’ll want, that I can’t give him.
It’s all well and good to say that all you need is love, thank you Mr. Lennon and Mr. McCartney, but in point of fact love’s really nothing when compared to money.
He made a face. The idealistic boy he’d once been still lingered inside him and was well-horrified by his present attitude. Right, well, if he listened to that lad he’d be in a world of trouble.
“I’m doing the right thing,” he muttered under his breath. “Doesn’t matter if I want to keep him to myself. It’s for his sake, now, if not my own any longer.” He nodded firmly.
“Signor, caffè corretto?”
“What?” Rick jumped. A rush of heat flooded to his cheeks. Good God, he’d only gone and forgotten that Elisa was there. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and attempted a laugh. “Maybe corretto wouldn’t be such a good idea, eh? I’ll take a caffè doppio instead, per favore and thank you.”
Elisa’s motherly smile softened. She did pat his shoulder, just as if he were one of her bonny sons come home with a load of sorrows. Older than him by twenty years, perhaps, but if he’d had any sort of taste for women, she’d have still been exactly his type, warm and friendly, ready to listen if a man cared to open up. “Caffè doppio, si. Caffè corretto later, maybe?”
“After I meet with Juliano? You bet.”
“You don’t sound as if you like this Juliano,” Elisa called over her shoulder as she moved away to prepare his coffee. San Luca, not what anyone would call a bustling metropolis in their wildest fantasies, barely a dot on the map, didn’t stand on too many formalities. “I have tea, signor, if you’d rather?”
“Coffee’s more what I need right now. Strong. But thank you.” He hesitated, unsure of how much to tell her. Did it matter? Elisa wouldn’t recognize Juliano’s face, the reclusive bastard, and even if she did connect him with the Dominici vineyards, he truly doubted she’d care two pins. Actually, she’d be more likely to poke fun at him than curtsy; Elisa wasn’t fond of the high and mighty.
“Signor?”
Damn and blast, he’d idled off again. “Sorry, Elisa. Could you say it again?”
She chuckled. “I was only thinking out loud. You are the busiest thinker I know, Signor. Always off in your own head, lost in there.” She gestured with one hand while neatly and efficiently building his caffè with the other, long practice making perfect, he supposed. The bell over the door jingled behind them, almost lost in the volubility of her chatter. “So. Perhaps you are making too much of a monster out of this Juliano inside your brain. Si?”
“I’d be hard put to top the inherent asshattery of the man,” Rick responded, glum. He propped his chin on one hand. “Never have met a sorrier prat in my life, and that’s saying a lot.”
“Indeed.” Awfully familiar tones sounded from behind him.
Shit. Rick didn’t need to look to get confirmation.
“Caffè stretto,” Juliano barked. Expensive rustling noises told Rick that he was removing his tailored driving gloves and motoring hat. The man dressed like he was in a bloody black-and-white film. “Signora. Did you hear me? Caffè stretto. Now. Hot. None of this rural bathwater, if you please.”
Elisa’s shoulders stiffened. Rick could just tell she was itching to slap the entitlement right out of the wealthy man. “Si,” she muttered. “Corretto might have been better.”
Rick appreciated the sentiment, but not the dubious wisdom of voicing that last out loud.
“So you are drinking before the sun goes down,” Juliano remarked. “This does not surprise me. The dissolution you led my son into proceeds rapidly along its accustomed pace, I see.”
“That’s a fine fucking attitude from a man who’s made his money off of wine,” Rick snapped, turning around before Juliano could demand the respect of being addressed directly. He stopped in momentary surprise. “Antonetta. Hello. I didn’t know you’d be coming, too.”
Antonetta, the one Dominici he could honestly say he liked ‑‑ leaving all conflicted emotions toward Adriano out of the question ‑‑ smiled at him with what he knew to be genuine warmth. Antonetta had good common sense, a proper head on her shoulders, and in his opinion was lovelier than any queen. With her softly curling fall of black hair, her sparkling wide-spaced eyes and her smile, brilliantly broad and white, she’d not win any conventional beauty contests but she’d have had his heart in a beat thereof if things were different.
Or if he hadn’t been well sure Juliano would twist his nuts off completely for coming near his pure and virginal distaff niece. It’d been quite a near thing after his dalliance with the admittedly promiscuous Adriano had been discovered.
“It’s wonderful to see you again,” Antonetta said, extending her hand. He took it and kissed the knuckles, which widened her smile. “I’m glad to see you’re well.”
The icy silence from Juliano failed utterly in provoking Rick to drop Antonetta’s hand before he was damn well good and ready. He squeezed her fingers gently and returned them to her, sitting back. “And it’s wonderful to see you here, too,” he said. “I’ll know Adriano’s taken care of properly, now.”
More frozen non-response from Juliano greeted his leading statement. Irritated, Rick turned to him. “How have you been, old man? Found a new way to squeeze blood from a stone and call it vintage red, yet?”
Juliano’s nostrils flared. “Are you quite finished?”
“No, ducks, I’m only getting started, but we could go on all day at this game and still never finish, so I’ll call time of death now.” Rick nodded his thanks to Elisa as she arrived at their table with a tray full of caffès. “I’ve got something that belongs to you, someone rather, and I’ll thank you to take him back now.”
“Indeed.” Juliano eyed his caffè with distaste, took a judgmental sip, and snorted. “Weak. Flavorless.” He pushed it away with one fingertip.
Rick mouthed a silent apology to Elisa, who by now bristled like an angry hedgehog. Antonetta tasted her caffè macchiato and mmm’d. Quietly.
“My patience is not eternal.” Juliano reached into the inner breast pocket of his immaculate suit and came out with a long, slim parchment-colored slip of paper. Rick couldn’t help but notice the number of zeroes and the bank information.
“You’re joking,” he blurted. “What the hell is this?”
“It should be obvious, but of course you will need clarification.” Juliano tapped the check on the table. “My son has come to you. Out of long habit I call him ‘my son’, you understand, and not from any present affection. I have no son.”
“Uncle,” Antonetta protested, laying her hand on his arm. “Not this again.”
Juliano shook her off. “Antonetta persists in thinking she can change my mind. Not so. I am done with Adriano. He has proved nothing but a wastrel, a whoremonger, a pervert, and a fool. He taints our family name, and so he will no longer enjoy the rights and privileges that come with being a Dominici.” He pushed the check at Rick. “Do with this what you will. If you choose to nurse Adriano through this current idiocy, be it on your head. However, if you dare to breathe a word of this to any member of the media ‑‑”
Rick’s temper, never very hard to provoke, overboiled. He stood up, his chair screeching out from behind him. “You’re giving me hush money?”
“Rick, Rick, no.” Antonetta reached for him.
“It’s for helping Adriano. Uncle is paranoid.”
“You don’t have to tell me that.”
“Antonetta, need I remind you that you, too, are on thin ice when it comes to remaining within my good graces?” Juliano sneered. “Signora! Do you think you could manage to produce a hot caffè espresso? Would that trouble you too far? I would not want to distract you from your most important gossip.”
Rick’s temper burned hotter. “I’ll thank you to shut your mouth. There’s not a single other soul in here but us, and if you’re worried about gossip, then I’ll remind you that you’re the one flapping off at the gums here.”
Juliano scoffed at him. “She is an ignorant country mouse. Do you care about women, now? Spare me the foolish attempts at gallantry. After your involvement with my son, the daughter of the diCapri family would not look twice at Adriano. Thanks to you, an alliance well in the works since Adriano was born has been shattered.”
“That’s not my fault at all, I ‑‑”
“If you would let me finish!” Juliano snapped. A not-so-small part of Rick was viciously pleased to see him starting to lose his own control. He tossed the check on the table between them. “Take it or not, as you please. We are finished here.”
Rick sat simply because it was a choice between that, his knees giving out, or launching himself at Juliano with a bloodthirstiness that’d shame football hooligans. “You’re mad,” he said. “Your son’s injured, perhaps badly, and you couldn’t give less of a toss. Because he’s slept with men. With me.”
Juliano ignored the question. He stood, tugging his gloves on. “Antonetta, attend me, thank you.”
“He doesn’t remember anything,” Rick protested. “He needs medical care I can’t afford to give him ‑‑”
“It is no one’s fault but your own that you lack worthwhile employment, and as for money, you have been offered quite a considerable sum.”
“Right, so I’ll keep my mouth shut, not so’s I can get him to a hospital. I reckon you’d be pretty pissed off indeed if I did take him to a doctor, wouldn’t you?” Rick’s hands curled into fists. “God forbid the Dominicis taste a drop of scandal.”
“We will not. Not any longer. Good day to you, signor.”
“Would you fucking well listen to me!” Rick yelled. “How can I make this clearer? Adriano needs your help. D’you know what the last thing was that he said to me before I left him to come here? ‘Who are you?’ that’s what he said.”
Juliano gazed flatly at him.
Rick ranted on, frustration boiling from him. “I tell Adriano my name, right? I tell him everything will be all right, and five minutes later he’s forgotten where he is and panics all over again. He’ll have no idea who I am and beg me to help him find…me.” He slammed his fist down, jostling the table. It tilted alarmingly, rattling cups and saucers.
Antonetta flinched, automatically reaching to steady first the table, and then Rick. Juliano sat perfectly still, never twitching a single hair on his supercilious face. Rick thought he might like very much to take a swing at Juliano’s haughty, cold perfection just for the sake of seeing whether or not the man was physically capable of being mussed. The satisfaction of dealing out a well-deserved pop to the nose would be incidental. Well, mostly incidental. Rick’s knuckles tingled with the ache to go ahead, common sense be damned.
It wouldn’t make a lick of difference, though, would it? “You truly don’t care,” he said, exhaling his disappointment. “Not a jot nor a tittle. It’d be just fine with you if he died.”
Juliano didn’t bother to argue the point. “Once again, I bid you good day,” was all he said, turning stubbornly away. “You have your dearest wish, signor. Adriano is all yours. I wish you joy of him. Antonetta, come!”
Rick gave in to the urge. Smashing his fist in a face had never been quite so satisfying in all his life, and the sight of Elisa tipping Juliano’s scorned caffè over his head, well, that was a glorious bonus.
Of course, it didn’t net him anything but a moment’s pleasure, but sometimes Rick enjoyed taking what he could get.
Sometimes.
Chapter Eight
Déjà vu wasn’t quite strong enough for what crept sluggishly through Rick as, after hobbling his way home ‑‑ too proud to accept a ride from Elisa, who’d been quite ready to close her caffè long enough, damn his own hide ‑‑ he saw, in his empty stretch of allotment, a dark lump sprawled out with Hamish barking alongside it.
Rick stopped to rub his face, hissing when he encountered his sore, puffy nose. Juliano, it seemed, wasn’t quite cool and collected enough not to backhand him, and by aim or luck he’d given Rick quite a bleeder. At least Antonetta had been in the middle of giving Juliano a fine arse-chewing all the way to his sleek Jaguar, even if she did go with him.
Ah, well. Rick straightened his shoulders and doggedly pressed on. “Adriano?” he called, elevating his voice to a near-shout. “Adriano, are you all right, then?”
To his great relief, the dark and formerly motionless lump of man raised up on one elbow and waved at him. Hamish yipped and started to run in circles around Adriano.
“Small mercies,” Rick muttered, stumping faster. When he arrived at Adriano’s side, he took a pause that refreshed, gazing down at the man who was bloody well now his, all his, regardless of whether or not he wanted him. Adriano looked better, at least, clean and with better color in his cheeks. More, he smiled lazily at Rick, reminding him more than ever of an idle cat taking his ease and pleasure.
“What?” Adriano asked, tilting his head quizzically. “Signor, are you hurt?”
Rick couldn’t help laughing, though it made his sore ribs twinge to do so. “Ah, nothing I’ve never suffered after a trip to a Manchester football match.”
“Where, signor?”
“Never you mind. I’m running off at the mouth as usual today, it seems. D’you know, I’ve said more since this morning than I have in…months, probably?”
Adriano’s grin widened. “Perhaps I am better company than any other you have known.” Then, he frowned. “Months, signor? How has it been months?”
Ah, shit on a shingle. Rick froze, struggling to come up with an answer that a) wouldn’t upset Adriano and b) might be somewhere approaching the truth at the same time.
He thanked all his lucky stars and saints when Adriano appeared to forget the question instantly, turning his attention to the darkening twilight sky. “Lovely,” he said, pointing. “Is this dog yours, signor?”
“Never thought I’d be grateful for your dilettante attention span, love. Mind if I sit down?”
“Hmm? Oh. Si, si, please. Sit.” Adriano patted the dry grass beneath him. “Your gardener needs lecturing, signor. This is shameful.”
“Right, I’ll be sure to mention that to him,” Rick said, drier than dust. He lowered himself carefully, pleased to note that the walk, while it had been a trial, seemed to have loosened him up some. Or perhaps it was the pleasure of Adriano’s company, now that he considered allowing it to be a pleasure beyond sexual. And when had that happened? Or had it been that way all along, with his refusing to see it?
Who knew?
He leaned back on his hands, deliberately hushing his thoughts in order to enjoy the view of the night sky. “That’s one of the things I like best about living here,” he murmured. “Such a view as you hardly ever see anywhere else in the wide world.”
Rick could feel the sweeping weight of Adriano’s gaze trailing over him. “I agree, signor.”
“Do you, now?” Rick sat up and turned to Adriano. He had his lips parted for a teasing rejoinder when what he saw there was merely the casual interest of a stranger for a stranger. Fucking hell… Adriano hadn’t been calling him by name, had he? Just “signor.”
“Adriano, who am I?” he asked, resigned to Adriano’s immediate confusion.
He wasn’t wrong. Adriano ducked his head, an unusually bashful, embarrassed look on him. “I’m sorry, signor. I know…I forget things, don’
t I?”
“Don’t worry yourself over it ‑‑”
“No.” Adriano looked directly back at him. “I will worry if I care to.”
“Dominicis,” Rick grumbled. “You’re all alike, you know that? Do what you want to do, and devil take the hindmost. If I ask you not to fret, will I just be wasting my breath?”
“Signor, please. It is not right to have so many holes in my mind,” Adriano snapped. Anger brought a high color to his complexion and a blaze to his eyes that sent Rick inching instinctively backward despite arousing him, his cock perking up and heartbeat increasing.
“Take it easy, Adriano,” he tried to caution. “You’re not well. All right? I only want you to calm down so you don’t do yourself any further injury.”
“But signor…” Adriano looked up, gesturing helplessly. “I do not know who you are, but I know I should. How can I rest unless I remember this? And I am confused. I think the name ‘Rick’ when I look at you, and I know I have searched for this ‘Rick’ for what seems like forever. But then why do I not make the connection?” He slapped at his head, growling. “I am an idiot.”
“Hey, hey, hey!” Rick grabbed Adriano by the wrist before he could have another go. “I told you to calm yourself, man, and there’ll be no more of that. Are we clear?”
Adriano subsided, so miserable that Rick simultaneously wanted to hug him and to twist his ear. “Are you Rick?” he asked, lip trembling ever so slightly. “Are you my love?”
Rick considered, for a half second, telling him “no,” and decided against that almost before the thought was formed. They were in this together now, for good or ill. Even if Adriano would forget right away, he’d have the truth when he asked. “Yes, love. I’m Rick. You’ve found me.”
“May I?” Adriano reached for him, halting Rick before he would have continued reassuring him. His gestures were unaccustomedly hesitant if determined. “Perhaps if I…”
He stroked a light, gentle path over Rick’s face, feathering touches from ear to ear and lingering on his lips. Rick sat still and took it, hissing between his teeth when Adriano hit a particularly tender spot ‑‑ though to be fair those were few and far between, a nice burst of sexually laden endorphins swelling within him.