The Banker (Banker 1)

I answered. “The Rosa Gallery. This is Siena.” I had a list of clients I met through the gallery, and my job was to find the perfect pieces for them. I had a few high-profile clients who commissioned me to decorate their homes or offices, but most of the time, people were just looking for one single painting.

“Siena Russo?” the man asked bluntly.

“Yes, this is she. How can I help you?”

“My boss is looking for someone to decorate his home with specific pieces of art. He has very particular taste and a very large budget. I’ve done my research, and it seems like you’ve made quite a reputation for yourself.”

Thank you, Crow. “I’m flattered.”

“Are you interested in the project?”

A normal person would ask a million questions, but since I already knew this was for Cato, I didn’t. “Very much so. Just let me know when you would like to get started. I should probably meet your boss to garner what he likes.”

“I’ll see if he has the time. He’s very busy.”

Yes. Busy being a pig. “You know where to find me.”

I drove into western Tuscany and approached the large cobblestone wall that surrounded the property. It was a private piece of land, and I couldn’t see any neighbors on either side of the road. The foliage was dense and green despite the merciless heat, and like always, there was a scent of grapes in the air.

I pulled up to the black iron gate and watched the security detail examine me. One came to my window and asked for my identification before they opened the doors and allowed me through.

My heart fell into my stomach. This man was guarded at all times. I would need a hundred armed men if I had any chance of accomplishing anything, and even then, the odds weren’t in my favor.

I drove up the road and onto his property, seeing the acres of lush landscape enclosed within the walls. Cato’s security team seemed to stay along the perimeter because his actual home was peaceful and quiet. Three stories tall, it was a mansion big enough for twenty people.

Hard to imagine he lived there alone.

Even though he certainly didn’t sleep alone.

I parked in the roundabout, gathered my things, and prepared to come face-to-face with the man I blew off. The angry look in his eyes was still fresh in my mind. I insulted him and stormed off, something he probably wasn’t used to. Everyone bowed down to him like he was some kind of king.

He might not even hire me.

He might take one look at me and order me off his property.

I knocked on the door and was greeted by a man in slacks and a polo shirt. “You must be Siena.” A man in his late fifties with salt-and-pepper hair smiled and showed his nice grin. His skin was distinctly tanned, like he attended to the needs outside the house as well as inside. “Please come in.”

“Thank you.” I wore a black dress with a black cardigan, a string of pearls around my neck. Whenever I worked, I always wore those two shades. It complemented the artwork I showed and made me seem neutral in comparison. My heels were higher than usual, giving me an extra three inches of height. They clacked against the wood as I carried myself inside. “I’m excited to be here.”

“We’re excited to have you. It’s a beautiful home, but it needs to lighten up a bit.” He placed his hand between my shoulder blades then guided me into a private room. The entryway had two staircases on opposite sides, and the space in between was big enough to fit a cocktail party. Hardwood floors and beautiful moldings made it the most beautiful house I’d ever set eyes on.

The sitting room had two couches with a coffee table, along with other chairs and a large window that showed the rest of his property in the rear. It smelled clean and fresh, but it looked like a room that was never touched. It was probably one of the many rooms reserved for private conversation, but not quite a business meeting.

“Coffee or tea?” he asked. “Or are you prepared for something stronger?”

“I’ll have whatever Mr. Marino enjoys.”

“Well, Mr. Marino is a scotch fan.”

I already knew that. “What a coincidence. So am I.”

He gave a slight nod. “You two will get along just fine. I’m Giovanni, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Giovanni.”

He walked out and left the door open.

I organized my papers and readied my notes, my heart hammering in my chest. Even if I didn’t have ulterior motives, this would still be my dream job. This place was enormous, and judging by how elegantly it was already decorated, only the most beautiful pieces of art should hang on these walls. It would be an honor to work on something like this—and get paid for it.