I had thought about the answers to Tristan’s questions but they hadn’t been my focus. All my energy had been channeled into getting Goode to agree to the sale. If he didn’t do that, there was no point in having a brilliant plan I couldn’t implement.
“I’m working on it.”
“Is Sofia the problem?”
I frowned and took a sip of my wine to unclench my jaw. Tristan was my friend. I had to remind myself he wasn’t trying to be provocative. “Sofia isn’t a problem.”
“You clearly like her.”
“Why would that be a problem?”
“As long as it doesn’t cloud your judgement, it’s not.”
Now he was really starting to piss me off. I set my glass down. “Women don’t cloud my judgement.”
Tristan nodded. “Okay then.”
He wasn’t going to elaborate? “Why would you think that?”
“Because it’s just not like you to try to trick someone into doing business with you.”
“But it’s like me to do everything I bloody-well can to get what I want.”
“You’ve never struck me as a man who’d compromise who he is to get what he wants. So something’s changed.”
“Nothing’s changed. Nothing’s ever been as important to me as getting Verity.”
“Getting it away from Goode, or making it a success? I’m not trying to be a dick here; I just think you’re not acting like yourself. Sofia seems great, and maybe she’s not the issue. But something’s off.”
Tristan was one of my best friends. It was his job to challenge me and take me to task when he thought something was wrong. I had to listen. He was right when he said I was supremely focused on getting my hands on Verity, and he was right that I hadn’t worked out in any detail what I wanted to do with it when I had it. I knew the end result. I just didn’t have the roadmap to get me there. I should have spent more time planning, but my lack of preparation had nothing to do with Sofia. If it hadn’t been for her, I wouldn’t be within touching distance of actually getting hold of Verity.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ve heard what you’ve said and I’ll think about it.”
“I’ll drink to that.” He held up his glass full of who-knew-what. It was fucking green with a yellow parasol in it.
“What the fuck are you drinking?”
“I’m always trying what’s new. Don’t want to be like you, old and stale.”
“Fuck off.”
Tristan grinned like I just told him I loved him.
Thirty-Two
Sofia
Andrew had been borderline charming to my mother. For him anyway. He hadn’t snarled, had talked more than he usually did, and I’d even caught him smiling a couple of times while he glanced between me and my mom as she told me everything that had happened to every Italian-American on the island of Manhattan since I’d left for London. He’d helped clear plates and offered to wash up. That was never going to happen while my mother had a beating heart in her chest—not because Andrew was a man, but because he was a guest.
Now he was gone, my mother had gone quiet.
“What’s the matter, Mamma?” I asked her as I put the final clean plate away in the cupboard. “Are you tired? Do you want me to leave?”
She grabbed my hand from where she was sitting on the ripped kitchen chair and pulled me down to sit next to her. “Are you serious about this man? He’s so much older.”
I shook my head. “Not by so much. Just a few years.” I patted her on the knee and tried to pull my hand away, but she pulled it onto my lap. “What’s the matter? You didn’t like him?”
“If he’s not older, he’s more established. He has money and a company and . . . I don’t want to see you taken advantage of.”
“He’s not taking advantage of me,” I replied. Is that what she’d witnessed from our interaction this evening? What had been said or done that might make her feel like that? “He’s a good guy.”
“Bambina, he’s rich and good-looking and older. I know these men.” She looked me dead in the eye and we both knew she was talking about my father. “These men see you as nothing. As their plaything. They will play with you, make you dance, and then what?”
I went to speak but she held up her palm. She wasn’t finished.
“I know you’re going to tell me I’m wrong, Andrew’s different and so wonderful, but these men are used to getting what they want. At any price. Now he wants you. What happens when he doesn’t want you anymore?”
If she’d been talking to Natalie about one of her bum boyfriends I’d be nodding vehemently. Mamma always talked so much sense. She was wise and understood things we didn’t. But she was wrong about Andrew, wasn’t she?
My gut churned with confusion. I loved my mother more than anyone else in the world. I trusted her and I was entirely certain she only had my best interests at heart. Although Andrew could be surly and rude in the office at times, he was a good man. He’d never done anything to make me think otherwise. Then again, I hadn’t known him long.