Giovanni (Benedetti Brothers 4)

But I’m also more anxious now than ever about Alessandro. I know he’s going to turn up. And he’s got everything to lose with Giovanni as an enemy.

By now, he must know that John Diaz failed in his task to kill our father. He must also know that I am here, within reach. And on Giovanni Santa Maria’s arm.

I have to be careful with romanticizing whatever it is that’s going on between me and Giovanni, though. We’re not a couple. We won’t be one when this is over, either. I have to remember that.

This is what I’m thinking about when I hear the glass door of the sales office open. My desk is around the corner in the open floor plan, where the only person with a private office is the general manager. His door I can see, but the door into the main office I can’t.

“Em?”

I hear a woman’s voice and realize my heart is pounding. I’m half up from my seat.

“Are you back here?”

“Yes, here,” I call out, relieved. It’s Lori, one of the front desk staff.

“There you are,” she says. I see the wheels of the chair before I see her. See expensive Italian shoes.

My heart races, and I’m half-standing when she comes into view.

“Mr. Santa Maria was looking for you.” She is oblivious to my state of mind. She just keeps talking. “And you know how heavy some of the doors are.” She gives me a look. The hotel isn’t quite in compliance for people with disabilities just yet.

“Oh,” I’m looking at the old man and hearing Giovanni’s words. His threat to him.

“Well, I need to go. My ride is waiting. You can help Mr. Santa Maria back to the lobby when you’re done, right? His driver is waiting outside.”

What is he doing here? What does he want with me?

“Em?” Lori asks, confused by my silence.

He just sits there watching me, studying me in that way Giovanni does, but different.

I drag my gaze from his. “Of course.” I force the smile I use at work.

The old man turns his head to look at Lori. “I’m so sorry for all the trouble, dear.”

She waves it away. “It’s no trouble at all, Mr. Santa Maria. I’m just glad Em’s still here.”

“Me too,” he says, turning his attention back to me.

“Well, goodnight everyone,” Lori says.

“Good night,” Mr. Santa Maria says, his smile wide, his teeth white and sharp, and his eyes locked on me like he won’t look away, not for the world. And I know why that is. Angelica. “Remarkable,” he says as soon as we hear the whoosh of the door, letting us know we’re alone.

“What are you doing here?”

He wheels himself forward, and I have a feeling he’s not as feeble as he led Lori to believe. And when he stops at the space where two desks are too close together to accommodate his wheelchair, he rises to his feet, taking the cane I now notice is attached to the side of the chair.

I was under the impression he couldn’t walk at all.

He comes to stand just two feet from me around the side of my desk. Not even. “You really do look like her. Angelica. She has…had…some Mexican roots. That must account for the spectacular beauty.” He smiles, bows his head. “I’m sorry. I seem to have startled you. It wasn’t my intention. Doubtless our initial meeting has left you with questions and, perhaps, distrust of an old man.” He extends his hand to me.

I give a shake of my head. He’s an old man. A crippled old man. I don’t know what happened between him, Giovanni, and Angelica. I only know that little bit about the affair. Affairs. Giovanni said so himself. He told me there’s more to the story. But that doesn’t explain the uneasy feeling I have.

“Of course not.” I go to him, and I don’t like how his eyes run over the length of me. Although hesitating, I place my hand in his. “It’s nice to meet you,” I say politely.

His grip is remarkably strong. Much stronger than I expect.

“You’re a little taller than Angelica was. Poor child.”

Child? Strange he should refer to her as a child if he had an affair with her.

He bows a little and brings my hand to his mouth to kiss it. A chill runs up my spine at the contact.

“Mr. Santa Maria, what are you doing here? Giovanni—”

“I sent a note, but I’m afraid it was intercepted. Given what happened at the church, I thought I’d better come.”

“A note?”

“Yes, a few days ago. Introducing myself.”

He must see from my expression that I never received it.

“Well, I’m not surprised. I know my son well.” He looks over at the sitting area and clears his throat.

“Oh. I’m sorry. You’d probably be more comfortable here. Let me help you.”