Nicolo: The Powerful Sicilian

“Except how to enjoy a good vintage,” he said, which made everyone laugh, even the vintner and viniculturist, who were the worst wine snobs imaginable.

Finally, he looked around the room and took long looks at the paintings her father had not sold only because he had understood there was more to gain from being known as a man who owned such things than from giving them up.

“Magnificent,” he said, and added, casually, that he’d been fortunate enough to have acquired a Donatello at Sotheby’s a few months ago and had his agent keeping an eye out for a Raphael rumored to be coming on the market soon.

By the time they got down to business, her father’s people were eating out of his hand.

But that changed. Once the niceties were out of the way, Orsini the gentleman gave way to Orsini the thug….

Alessia gave an imperceptible shake of her head.

No. Not fair. He wasn’t a thug. Not today, anyway. Seated across from her was a sophisticated, powerful, blunt man who was as smart as anyone in the room. Smarter, she suspected. He understood finances.

And that he was being lied to.

He’d listened without expression as the accountant and the attorney danced around the questions he had asked. Why did a successful vineyard suddenly stop earning a profit? Why was it failing? More to the point, what would it take to make the place a success again?

The answers were interesting. He seemed to think so, too….

Until, after twenty or thirty minutes, he held up his hand and said, “Enough.”

This was, he said, pure fiction. Nicely done fiction, but fiction nevertheless. Then he pushed aside the documents spread over the table. His obsidian eyes were as merciless as those of a marauding shark.

“Assuming I decide to put money into this operation, it will be because I see a good reason to do so.”

“But we understood…” The attorney looked beseechingly at the accountant. “We understood it was your father who would make the loan to the prince.”

“I will be the one making it,” Nick said brusquely. “And none of what I’ve seen or heard makes me eager to turn over ten million euros.”

“Ten mill—”

“Ten million, that’s right.” He looked from one man to the other, then at Alessia. “The terms of the loan have also changed. I will expect to own a fifty-one percent interest in Antoninni Vineyards.”

“No,” Alessia said quickly. “We are not selling our vineyard to you.”

“It’s your father’s vineyard, and he will do whatever I ask or there will be no loan.” Nick turned to the attorney and accountant. “My own people will want to see these documents. As for the condition of the vines and land…” He looked at the other men. “Can they be saved if money is diverted to them, or have they been allowed to deteriorate for too long?”

“They most assuredly can be saved,” the viniculturist said eagerly, as the vintner and property manager nodded in agreement.

“Excellent.” Nick rose to his feet, motioned those three to remain seated and nodded at the attorney and accountant. “In that case, gentlemen, I’ll expect the legal and financial data to be faxed to my New York office by the end of the week.”

The attorney opened his mouth to protest, then thought better of it. So did the accountant. It was clear they had been dismissed as if they were errant schoolboys.

Alessia snorted. She tried to turn the sound into a cough but Nicolo’s raised eyebrows said he knew the difference between the two.

“Is there something you wanted to say, princess?”

“Only what I have already said. My father will not agree to giving you controlling interest in what has been a family-owned property for many centuries.”

She saw his mouth thin. Then he drew back her chair and smiled pleasantly to the three remaining men.

“The princess and I will be just a moment. Alessia? Let’s step into the hall.”

She didn’t want to go with him. Foolish, she knew; there was no reason to avoid being alone with him and so she stood up and preceded him out the door. The attorney and accountant were gone; she could hear the faint buzz of conversation start up in the room behind her.

“You’d better accept this, princess, and so had your father,” Nicolo Orsini said calmly. “I won’t invest in the vineyard without an assurance that it can be made profitable, nor will I invest in it without owning a majority share.”

“That’s not going to happen. You knew about my father’s financial woes before you came here. I know you did. And you never even suggested you’d demand ownership.”