Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
My uncle appears on the landing dressed in a silk robe and a matching paisley cravat. Tying the belt of the robe around his waist, he says in a jovial tone that carries through the acoustic foyer, “Angelo.” The soles of his slippers slap the stairs as he makes his way down. “If I knew you were coming, I would’ve told Emilia to prepare a breakfast buffet.”
I shove off my coat. “I’ve eaten.”
He stretches out his arms when he reaches the bottom of the staircase and crosses the floor to greet me with an embrace. Patting my back, he holds me at arm’s length. “You look well.” He scrutinizes me through narrowed eyes and adds with a sly smile, “Married life seems to agree with you.”
“Where can we talk?”
He drops his arms. “This isn’t a social call?”
He knows damn well I won’t ring his bell at sunrise for pleasure, but for now, I play his game. “Business, I’m afraid.”
“You should’ve called me,” he exclaims. “I would’ve come out to you.”
The reason I’m here is to catch him with his pants down like my father used to say. My uncles are hiding something. I don’t like the nasty suspicion growing in my gut.
“As you’re here now, come through.” He takes my arm and leads me to the lounge. Indicating the sofa, he says, “Sit. What can I get you to drink? Coffee? Tea?” He takes a copper bell from the coffee table and rings it. “Maybe a freshly squeezed orange juice?”
The housekeeper appears in the doorframe. She waits quietly with her eyes averted. She looks vaguely familiar. I take in the too short hem of the skirt that will leave nothing to the imagination when she bends. The flush that grows on her cheeks as she peeks at my uncle through her eyelashes makes me wonder about the nature of their relationship.
“Well?” my uncle says as he takes a seat next to me.
“Coffee, thank you.”
“Something to eat? Emilia bakes the most delicious scones.” He grins and nudges my shoulder. “They’re decadent with a little cream.” Winking at her, he adds, “So is she.”
I lean back in my seat and cross my ankle over my knee. “No, thank you.”
The red color of her cheeks deepens. “Anything else?”
“Maybe later,” Uncle Nico says, his voice dripping with innuendo.
Well. Who would’ve guessed my uncle is such a dirty old man?
She spins around and hurries away with quick steps.
“She’s a shy one,” he says, craning his neck to follow her exit from the room. “But I’m derailing you.” Studying me with a shrewd expression, he says, “You haven’t told me what business brings you here.”
I slip a finger into my collar and loosen my tie. “Tell me about my wife. What did she do yesterday?”
He blinks. “Don’t you have the hourly reports from Toma and Gianni?”
“Yes, but it’s been so long since I visited you, I thought I’d drop in and get the feedback in person.”
He smiles even as his eyes tighten minutely. He’s not buying it. “How kind of you. You’re in luck. I read the report myself.”
The housekeeper—Emilia—enters with two cups of espresso. She puts one on the coffee table in front of me. When she leaves my uncle’s cup on the side table, he sticks a hand up her skirt and palms her ass.
“Thank you, Emilia,” he says, looking at her like a wolf sizing up a lamb.
How much does he pay her? It must be a lot. I don’t imagine she’s enduring his humiliating advances for the sake of love.
She stands motionless until he withdraws his hand and pats her backside.
When she’s gone, he brings his fingers to his nose and sniffs them. “There’s something about the smell of a woman.”
Christ. I’m going to puke.
“Anyway,” he says with a sigh. “Where were we? Ah, yes. The report. Toma was on duty. Let me see.” He taps a finger on his chin. “She went out for a walk after breakfast.”
I raise a brow and wait.
He folds his hands over his knee and regards me with a solemn expression.
“That’s it?” I ask.
“In the evening, you arrived. As for what happened then, only you can say.”
“Then I went home,” I say.
“Oh. You mean after you spent some time inside? Yes, yes. You went home.”
He doesn’t know about Sophie, or he would’ve mentioned her. Which makes me wonder if my cousins are doing their jobs. Or if they chose not to mention anything about the girl snooping around the house, stealing food, and climbing through the window. And if so, for what reason? Why hide it from me? What purpose will that serve?
“Why are you asking?” Making owl eyes, he leans closer. “Did something happen?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Good.” He nods to himself and picks up his cup. “You should drop in more often. This is nice.”