“And you are quick. I like that, too.”
“I’m sure I should be flattered but you’ll forgive me if I’m not. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”
“Have you forgotten you were to meet with me the day of Dante’s wedding?”
Forgotten? Hardly. Cesare had cornered Falco and him; Nick had cooled his heels while Falco and the old man were closeted in his study and after a few minutes Nick had thought, What am I doing, waiting here like an obedient servant?
Besides, he’d known what his father wanted to tell him. Safe combinations. Vault locations. The names of lawyers, of accountants, everything the don felt his sons had to know in case of his death, when truth was none of them would ever touch the spoils of what the media called the Orsini famiglia.
“Five minutes,” Nick said brusquely. “Just so long as you know in advance, Father, that whatever speech you’ve prepared, I’m not interested.”
Freddo, Cesare’s capo, stepped out of the shadows as father and son approached the don’s study. Cesare waved the cold-eyed hoodlum aside, followed Nick into the room and shut the door.
“Perhaps, Nicolo, I will be able to change your mind.”
Ten minutes later, Nick stared at his father.
“Let me be sure I get this. You want to invest in a winery.”
Cesare, seated behind his oversized mahogany desk, hands folded on its polished surface, nodded. “Yes.”
“The Antoninni winery in Florence, Italy.”
“In Tuscany, Nicolo. Tuscany is a province. Firenze is a city within it.”
“Spare me the geography lesson, okay? You’re investing in a vineyard.”
“I have not made that commitment yet but yes, I hope to invest in the prince’s winery.”
“The prince.” Nick laughed, but the sound was not pleasant. “Sounds like a bad movie. The Prince and the Don, a farce in two acts.”
“I am pleased you are amused,” Cesare said coolly.
“What’d you do? Make him an offer he couldn’t refuse?”
The don’s expression hardened. “Watch how you speak to me.”
“Or what?” Nick leaned over the desk and slapped his hands flat on the surface. “I’m not afraid of you, old man. I haven’t been afraid of you since I figured out what you were two decades ago.”
“Nor have you shown me the respect a son owes a father.”
“I owe you nothing. And if respect’s what you want from me—”
“We are wasting time. What I want from you is your professional expertise.”
Nick stood straight, arms folded. “Meaning what?”
“Meaning, I need to know the true value of the vineyard before I make a final offer. A financial evaluation, you might call it.”
“And?”
“And, I am asking you to make the evaluation for me.”
Nick shook his head. “I evaluate banks, Father. Not grapes.”
“You evaluate assets. It is your particular skill at the company you and your brothers own, is it not?”
“How nice.” Nick’s lips drew back from his teeth in a lupine smile. “That you noticed your sons own a business so different from yours, I mean.”