“Ahh….” He hesitates. “My office is being repainted at the moment, let’s meet in the restaurant where we usually meet.”
“Okay.” I pause as I pretend to reschedule appointments. “How’s one p.m.?”
“Good. I’ll meet you there.”
“Great.” I hang up and instantly open my computer in a panic, what tiles did I pick for level four?
I walk into the restaurant right on one o’clock, Dominic stands and smiles.
“Hello, I hope you haven’t been waiting long?” I apologize as I shake his hand.
“Not at all.” He pulls out my chair for me.
“Thank you.” I smile as I push it in.
“I took the liberty of ordering us a bottle of wine, may as well make our meetings enjoyable.” He fills two wineglasses with the wine.
“Thanks.” I fake a smile, why does he always order alcohol as if it’s a date?
Stop it.
I open my large folder and flip through to the appropriate floor divider. “Okay, so let’s talk about these tiles.”
He stays silent and when he doesn’t answer me I glance up at him.
“Are they your guards by the door?”
I frown and glance over to the door to see Nico and Sergio.
How does he know I have guards?
“No.” I smile calmly. “What makes you think I would have guards?”
His eyes hold mine and I know that he knows that I thought that was an odd question.
“Well, I just assumed that being a Ferrara you would have guards.” He sips his wine as if fascinated.
“Really?” I reply, “Why is that?”
“You hear stories….” His voice trails off.
I sit back, annoyed. “I thought we were here to discuss tiles not idle gossip.”
“Oh, we are.” He laughs. “Calm down, it was just a question.” He sips his wine. “Just wanted to know how many guards I will have to fight off to ask you out.”
“Only my brother.”
He raises an eyebrow as his eyes hold mine. “Where do you stay when in Milan, Francesca?”
The alarm bells sound again, what is it about this guy?
“With family,” I reply. “Oh, I keep forgetting, my boss wants a business card of yours to put on file.”
“Yes of course.” He takes out his wallet and looks through it. “It seems I don’t have one on me. I must have run out.” He smiles calmly. “Next time.”
Something feels off here.
“What is it about the tiles that you don’t like?” I ask.
“I don’t think the colors are right.”
“Why not, it was the color scheme we agreed on, you signed off on it.”
“I know, but since then I’ve been thinking that they are too gaudy. I don’t like the color combination with the furnishings. Perhaps if we went with the same tile as level seven, the Coco in chocolate.”
I stare at him as I try to reconcile what he’s saying, he really does have an issue with the tiles.
Giuliano has made me completely paranoid.
“Okay.” I flip through my folder. “I could contact the supplier, I have already ordered the tiles but perhaps it’s not too late to change that floor.”
“Good.” He studies my vision board pictures and points to the Coco tiles in chocolate. “I definitely prefer these ones, don’t you?”
“No. I like the first choice, but the decision lies ultimately with you.” I concentrate on the pictures and then glance up to see him looking over toward my guards again. I watch his eyes scan them and then look out to the footpath to the two others waiting outside.
He’s counting them.
Fuck.
Who is he?
“I need to go to the restroom; will you excuse me for a moment?” I smile.
“Of course.”
I walk into the ladies’ bathroom and into the cubicle and close the door behind me.
I quickly take out my phone and text Sergio.
There is something off with the man I am with.
I want you to wait out of sight.
He knows you’re my guards How?
My heart races as I wait for his reply.
Get to the car.
I reply.
Okay.
Fuck.
I wash my hands and stare at my reflection in the mirror. I’m probably being completely paranoid.
Giuliano’s words come back to me. “Do you have any idea how much a female Ferrara scalp is worth?”
Double fuck.
I drop my shoulders as I steel myself and I walk calmly back out into the restaurant.
Dominic smiles warmly. “Where were we?”
I slide my folder over toward me and I close it. “I’ve got all the details I need, I’ll be in touch.”
“You’re leaving?”
“Yes, as mentioned I’m booked solid. My next appointment is waiting.”
“But….”
I stand and fake a smile. “Goodbye, Dominic.”
“I’ll walk you out.” He stands.
“No need.” I turn and with my folder under my arm I march out of the restaurant as fast as I can. The car is waiting, double-parked, and Nico is standing holding the door open for me, I practically dive into the back seat and in moments we pull out at speed. I turn to look back just as Dominic appears out the front doors.
My heart hammers hard in my chest.
“Who is he?” Sergio asks.
“He works for the hotel that I’m refurbishing, he’s one of the bosses and I’m probably being paranoid, but I don’t know…he knew that I had guards.”
Sergio and Nico exchange looks.
“How would he know that?” I ask.
“Perhaps he just assumed,” Nico offers. “Could be a coincidence.”
“Do you think it is?”
Sergio turns and looks over his shoulder. “No. No, I don’t.”
Giuliano
I walk up the stairs into the Milan library and I smile as I take a trip down memory lane. I haven’t been here since I used to sneak in to see Francesca when we were kids.
My phone vibrates in my pocket and I take it out to see the name Sergio light up the screen. I’ll call him back later, I stuff my phone back in my pocket.
“Can I help you?” the librarian asks, she’s small and petite with gray hair, I would say she’s in her sixties or seventies and very sweet and demure.
“Yes, my friend was here last night at an art show,” I reply.
She smiles. “Yes, that was in the grand ballroom.”
“Apparently there was a photo display board or something?”
“There were many.”
“It was like a past year’s donation or something?” I shrug. “My late parents were apparently in one of the photos, I was hoping to see it.”
“Oh.” She nods. “Yes, it was near the door. This way.” She toddles off and I follow her, we walk out through the gardens and into an adjoining ballroom. She gestures to the wall and the numerous photo boards on display. “Here they are.”
“Thanks.” I put my hands into my suit pockets and begin to look over the boards. “How far back do these photos date to?” I ask.
“Since the library opened.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Eighty years.”
“Wow.” I keep looking at the boards, it’s like walking into a time machine, some photos are in black and white, some are modern. All centered around art donations. I look and look and look. Mario must have been mistaken, there isn’t a photo here. “Bettina,” someone calls.
“Yes,” the sweet little old lady calls.
“Can you help me for a minute?”
“Will you be okay here for a minute, dear?”
“Of course.”