The headline read ‘Antonio Ferraro, Italian Soccer Star, Attacked at Barcelona Casino’.
He stared at the picture and was shocked at how bad he looked. He knew that it had to have been the cab driver, who’d sold him out to the tabloids, but that wasn’t what concerned him.
As he read on, the article explained that, per the unnamed source, Antonio Ferraro refused to go to a hospital after the vicious attack, but insisted instead on being driven to a home in Vilafranca del Penedes. Antonio’s heart raced as he quickly scanned the rest of the article. To his relief, there was no mention that the house would be the location for the Torres wedding, or the fact that an important member of the Spanish Royal Family would be in attendance.
That was one small comfort.
The reporter had followed up at the Casino, but the casino operators denied any knowledge of Antonio’s presence at their Casino.
Antonio relaxed a bit. At least that was something in his favor. If they weren’t willing to confirm that he’d been inside - probably because they didn’t realize who they’d beaten up - then at least if the owners of the soccer team tried to press him for breaking the terms of his suspension Antonio could deny it.
It was almost worth the ass kicking for that aspect alone, but it didn’t change the fact that he’d been picked up in front of a casino, and there was an article about it in the tabloids. He felt his stomach turn and put his fork down, appetite gone.
Antonio had no doubt that he’d have serious questions to answer by those who’d decided to give him another chance. It hadn’t been a unanimous decision on the part of the team’s owner and managers - several of them had wanted to ban him from the sport forever.
They’d had no proof and needed him for the end of the season, so they’d agreed to tell the press he was off due to an injury.
He groaned.
His head hurt. He was sore and tired. He couldn’t even eat. He was so screwed.
There was a glass of water and a bottle of pain pills next to the bed. He took two, then stripped out of his clothes and climbed under the covers. He closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep.
“JOAN? JOAN, WAKE UP! We have to get going.”
“Huh, what?” Joan said as she came awake and rubbed her eyes. The sun was streaming into her room and Abby, her sister’s right-hand assistant, was standing by her bed tapping her foot anxiously.
“Abby? What are you doing here? What time is it?”
“It’s ten o’clock. We have to hurry, or we’re going to miss the last bus.”
“Ten o’clock? What the heck, why did you guys let me sleep in? Lissa must be panicked. Wasn’t she supposed to have lunch with Julio and the Viscount at noon? What about the boys?”
“Lissa, the boys and everyone else left two hours ago. It’s just you and me.”
“What? Why didn’t anyone wake me up?” Joan said as she hurried to the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
“Don’t think people didn’t try. You were dead to the world, girl.”
“I was? I don’t remember anyone trying to wake me up, I’m so sorry.”
Her phone rang. “Can you get that?” Joan asked as she stripped out of her sleepwear then turned on the shower. She felt sticky with sweat. The bus could wait, she needed to at least rinse herself off.
“Okay,” said Abbey. “Joan Edwards’ phone, this is Abby, may I help you?”
Joan lost track of the conversation as she stepped into under the stream of water for the world’s fastest shower.
When she stepped she heard Abby calling from the doorway, “I’ll give you a minute to get dressed.”
“Wait, who was that on the phone?”
“Some guy, Raul something, I couldn’t catch his last name. He wanted to know if you got his text and if the two additional guests were on the list.”
“Oh, right. He sent a text last night. Get the names from it and make sure they’re added to the invitation list.”
“Will do. Oh, and there was something else. Lissa called and said that she took your bridesmaid dress because she was afraid you’d leave it behind on purpose.”
Joan laughed. As with most bridesmaid dresses, despite being designer made it was hideous as far as Joan was concerned. But she was a super model, or she used to be. She could make a trash bag look chic if she wanted to.
“She also said that she forgot the outfit for one of the triplets. She wants me to find it, but I haven’t had any luck.”
“Try the top of the closet near the front door,” Joan said.
“Will do.”
A few minutes later Joan was dressed and ready to go, and Abby had the missing baby tuxedo in hand. Abby handed Joan back her phone, and the two women said goodbye to the cleaning crew which had come to give the Torres home a thorough cleaning while the house was finally empty. They got into the waiting mini bus and headed towards Vilafranca del Penedes.
In the morning, a fleet of mini buses would descend on the city and pick up the many friends, relatives, and other invited guests, shuttling them out to the wedding of the year, but, for now it was just Abby and Joan.
Joan applied a bit of makeup, using a compact as they drove for the first twenty minutes. When the minivan approached the entrance to the interstate Joan remembered the night before, when Raul had pulled his car over and she’d watched Julio Torres in the limo getting onto the same on ramp.
She wondered again about Antonio. Had he gone to the house in Vilafranca del Penedes? Is that where Julio had taken his things?
“Everything all right?” Abby asked, “You seem awfully quiet.”
“Oh, sorry. You know how it is when you oversleep - you end up feeling out of sorts all day.”
“I wouldn’t know, I haven’t overslept since I started working for your sister.”
Joan laughed, turning her focus on Abby. She’d always liked her sister’s right-hand woman and was grateful that she’d agreed to come to Europe to continue to support her sister in her business endeavors.
“How have you been, Abby? What’s new? How’s that Milan Project coming? Oh, and did they ever straighten out the issues with the apartment?”
“Well let me tell you, because, I’m not about to tell Lissa any of these things. She’ll refuse to go on her honeymoon if I tell her, and Julio would have me strung up!”
“My goodness, that’s pretty dramatic. What the heck is going on?”
“Well,” she said, her eyes glowing with the gleam of someone finally getting to share some juicy news, “I can’t tell you anything unless you promise, cross your heart and hope to die, that you won’t breathe a word of this to Lissa.”
“I don’t know...” Joan said uncertainly. “We shouldn’t hide things from her.”
“Come on, Joan, you know better than anyone how she tends to overreact. It’s not that bad, just disconcerting, and Julio made me promise not to tell her.”
“Julio knows? Okay, well, then, in that case, I promise I won’t tell Lissa. What’s going on?”
“Well first they didn’t get that apartment, but I found out who did get it, and you’re not going to believe who.”
“Who?”
“Tom Akers.”
“What? That jerk businessman who tried to steal the contract before? The one who was working with Tina Peters and Willa?”
“The very same. Turns out, he’s opened a consulting firm in Milan. H
e’s trying to get contracts for some of the non-building related projects involved with the Milan Business Center - you know, waste disposal, security, parking, maintenance, cleaning... that kind of thing.”
Something niggled at the back of Joan’s mind, but she couldn’t put her finger on the thought. “So, he’s started a company in Milan? I doubt Julio or Lissa will consent to giving him any of those contracts, and even if they did, so what?”
“So what?” Abby said, incredulously. “You don’t understand, do you?”
“Apparently not,” Joan said wryly.
“The Torres Business Development firm doesn’t get to make those decisions. It’s up to the board of directors for the project, and Julio and Lissa only get one vote. If Tom Akers or anyone else has the best bid for the job they are likely to be voted in, and Julio and Lissa’s preference won’t matter.”
“Oh, I see. So, the trouble is they’d have to work with that scumbag, and you think it will stress Lissa out.”
“Exactly. She’ll be on the lookout for all kinds of potential threats. She wouldn’t put it past him to undercut his own profits just to derail the project and make Julio and Lissa look bad.”
“Yeah, I can see why it’s best that Lissa doesn’t hear about this until she gets back from her honeymoon. I’m with you and Julio. She’d probably not only cancel the honeymoon, she’d probably cancel the wedding.”
When they were getting off the mini bus Joan’s cell phone rang.
“Did you ever add those names to the guest list?” Joan asked.
“No, I’m so sorry, I got busy. Give me your phone and I’ll find the wedding planner and take care of it right now.”
“Okay, but bring my phone back,” Joan said as her mother appeared on the steps, grinning from ear to ear. Annabelle came towards her, holding one of the triplets in her arms.
“Hi, mom,” Joan said. “Who’ve you got there?”
“I think this is Ryland, at least that’s what Lissa told me. I don’t know how you can tell the difference.”
Joan took the baby out of her mother’s arms and stared into the triplet’s eyes. It was Ryland, she knew because he had the dimple on his cheek and his eyes had little flecks of gold in them. He was the prettiest of the three boys. Hunter was easiest to spot, being the chubbiest, and Marco was the most athletic.