Page 10 of Enduring Caine
In the distance, the small town that supplied everything the estate needed, no more than a half-hour walk away, nestled against the water. “There’s a wonderful bakery in Cittavera—the town—that also sells gelato. They make the best tartufo in the world.”
She stretched through her spine, gaze sweeping out through my window to the crumbling remnants of a Roman-era villa below us. It led to a cave and ancient sculptures that remained from when the villa was inhabited. Blinking to clear away the sleep, she sat up straighter. “Are those the ruins you told me about?”
“Sì. The villa belonged to a wealthy merchant who had it built in fifteen C.E. We’ll squeeze in a visit down there before we leave. You’ll love it.” To the left, the hill rose, blocking our view of all but the trees and top of the estate’s tower.
“And maybe a detour to the bakery when we head to Mario’s.” The smile spreading across Samantha’s face reminded me how beautiful Gio’s home was. But the prospect of her meeting this part of my family sat like a lead weight in my stomach. They stood for everything in this world that she wanted to fight—primarily art and antiquities trafficking.
We reached the top of the hill, and the magnificent view of the sea stretched before us. A light rain fell, obscuring the island down the coast. The final turn led us under an archway and into the open-roofed auto court at the front of the three-story main building. Marble stairs to our left led up to a courtyard and then the dark wood double-doors. The villa was covered in white stucco, while more marble decorated a half-dozen columns which rose to the courtyard’s roof.
Ahead of us, another archway led to the driveway that circled the hill and would return the vehicle to the highway. To the right, a garage with four large black SUVs for transporting my uncle and cousin.
From here, only the top of the seven-story stone tower at the other end of the villa was visible, and none of the smaller buildings with apartments for Gio’s staff.
A row of men lined the stairs at the edge of the courtyard. Among them, my cousin Cristian and my uncle. The rest were no doubt bodyguards, their hard faces and matching outfits of black cargo pants with black T-shirts and light jackets melding together, despite the array of skin tones and hair colors. Two of them sported automatic rifles. Another two carried umbrellas and followed Cristian and Gio as they left the covered courtyard to approach our car.
Samantha’s face hardened, an almost perceptible switch flicking her into professional mode.
“Remember what I said,” I whispered. “You can’t do that here.”
Her nostrils flared as she swept her gaze across the area. She took in the men, their positions, guards posted outside the arches, security cameras watching every move. Knowing her, she was measuring distances, recording exits and entrances, calculating how long it would take to get to the cliff and the sea.
Her mental mapping finished as the car came to a halt and she let out one slow breath. “You may need to remind me of that a few times.”
The driver—who hadn’t said a word since we left the airport—pulled an umbrella from the passenger seat and got out to open Samantha’s door. He offered a hand, which she stubbornly refused, but he dutifully shielded her from the rain.
She moved to the side as I joined her, and my uncle stepped forward with his arms wide. Like Cristian, Giovanni was closer to Samantha‘s height than mine. His mostly gray hair was cropped short and he wore a brown suede jacket over black pants. I held up my arm and tapped it lightly on his back while he gave me a loose hug.
Gio stepped back, maintaining one arm around me, and smiled at Samantha. “Who is this beauty you bring to my door?”
Surprisingly, he spoke in English.
“Zio, things will go far more smoothly if you don’t treat me like I’m stupid. No doubt your man in the airport told you I was traveling with a woman. I’m also sure the driver alerted you that I insisted she join us.” I gestured to my love. “Even though I’m sure you already know her name, since your driver did, I would nonetheless like to introduce you to my girlfriend, Samantha Caine.”
Samantha held out her hand and replied in Italian. It was either an attempt to impress him or more likely a statement of power—that she was not just some beauty but possessed brains. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Ferraro.”
Giovanni smiled, no comment about the language, then continued in his native tongue. “Mr. Ferraro was my father—my name is Giovanni. I’m sure you’ve heard Dominico’s joke about Dom Perignon? Sadly I have no catchy nickname to offer a pretty young woman like yourself, except perhaps Gio. But Icanoffer you my home and my hospitality.”
Cristian stepped forward next, his umbrella carrier moving with him. He stalked over to Samantha in a way even Mario never did, looking her up and down in a far too predatory way. “I’ve heard a lot about you, but Antonio failed to sufficiently describe how beautiful you are.”
The pleasant face she’d attempted for my uncle fell dramatically. “That’s probably because Antonio’s more focused on my important qualities.”
“Like a sharp wit, I see.” Cristian took her by the shoulders and kissed the air by both of her cheeks, which she accepted while flicking her eyes to me. Then he turned to give me a half-embrace. “Cugino, you’ve chosen a firecracker.”
Once upon a time, my cousin had been my hero. Powerful, charismatic, and with overwhelming self-confidence. But once my eyes cleared and I saw him and his father for who they truly were, all I saw were petty men chasing an easy euro.
Perhaps not easy, but they certainly did not play by the rules. That fact had fractured my family when I was fifteen years old, and my father hadn’t spoken to this brother since then. I happily would’ve finished my time in Pompeii and left Italia in much the same way. My grandfather crossed enemy lines during World War II to help save the antiquities in Napoli. Now these men—my uncle and cousin—sold them off to the highest bidder.
These two were a stain on our family’s name.
I pulled Samantha closer, wrapping my good arm around her shoulders, to fend off Cristian’s leers. “So, are you going to tell me why I’m here?”
“Tell you?” The only thing Gio had going for him at this moment was his resemblance to my father. The salt and pepper hair, the broad smile, the aura of joy that spread out from him—no matter how fake it was. “No, no. I want to show you. But that will have to wait for tomorrow. You’ll be my guest for a few days so we can have some important conversations.” He gestured to the trunk of the car and two of the men retrieved our bags. “For now, I have duties. I’ll see you for dinner.”
With a wave, Gio departed, his umbrella man walking with him.
Cristian gestured one of the other men forward, a small metal case in the man’s hands. He opened it. Empty, save for a black fabric lining. “While you’re here, I’m sure you’ll understand that we have certain protocols and security measures in place. I’ll need your cell phones, laptops, and any other electronics you brought with you.”
“I’m not—”