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I stride alongside the Don, matching his energetic pace. We’re followed uphill by a line of four men, all in waxed tactical jackets, possibly padded with body armor.
The trees clear ahead and the sky expands. A distant horizon rises before us. He’s keeping a fast pace and speeding up, but he expects me to keep up with him. Is he showing respect, or contempt?
Not for the first time, I wish I had Carlo with me. One look in his eye, and I would know whether my advantage was better played by letting the Don know that I’m onto him, or by holding back waiting for him to reveal what he really wants.
With a man like the Don, it’s often hard to tell the two apart. Plus, I have to make the usual allowance in calculation for a man who doesn’t know how to talk to a woman, except when he’s in charge of her, or unless telling her what he wants.
Dark, treacherous corridors of my mind are lit with speculation. What would it be like, if the Don told me what to do. If he instructed me. Told me what he wanted. Would I be able to control my urges?
I’ve been brought up to do what a man tells me. I have to fight it every day. And men tell women what to do so naturally, half the time they don’t even know they’re doing it.
In that instant, I hear Carlo’s voice in my head. He would tell me, He’ll tell you what he wants, Lucia. Hold back. Don’t react. Not to the first thing he says he wants. Probably not to the second, either. Those two will be him testing you out.
Wait for the third thing.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Finally, we reach the ridge. The Olympic mountains rise over the gleaming blue and silver surface of Puget sound, winding around downtown Seattle, from the Space Needle to the harbors and marinas.
He’s showing me his wealth, power, and vision. His reach. All this is designed to impress me and overwhelm me. And it does.
Standing on top of the ridge, one foot up, like Napoleon, or even like a rock star, he stretches out an arm. “From Portland to the North Cascade Mountains, from the Pacific ocean, three hundred and sixty miles to Idaho, this state is a jewel.” He’s making an expansive pitch. Why is he making it to me?
“A massive treasure of natural beauty and resource. Even with all the marinas, the parks and trails, the glittering entertainment, we have hardly even begun to take hold of the opportunities we have for tourism in the evergreen state.”
I wonder if he’s trying the speech out. He can’t have brought me here just to hear him say all this. This seems an unlikely angle to start a takeover bid. Is he aiming to seduce me, or is he trying to sell me something?
By the time he starts to intone, “Since the city of Seattle took its name from the great native American chief,” I’m tuning out. Is he trying to be a history teacher or moonlighting for the Convention and Visitors’ Bureau?
He turns to me with a smile and holds my eye with his. “There’s an association of enterprise, a solid group of families all over the USA, from coast to coast. But here in the Pacific Northwest, we’ve always been on the outside of that group of families. Left out of all the family occasions and excluded from the benefits of cooperation and synergies.”
Okay. Now I know what he’s talking about. He sure took a scenic route, but the destination for this little chat will be Chicago.
“There are a lot of stories about why the Commission’s writ never ran this far. People tell tales that go all the way back to the wagon trains, but I believe that’s all bunkum. I think they just never made it this far.”
He gives me a confidential twinkle. I’m more charmed than I should be and it unnerves me. In a low voice, he says, “This business with the Dancing Lion Park Foundation,” he says, “You know that Don Pucci is playing a game.”
I turn to face him.
He lowers his chin. “He will lift the price, just a little at a time. Always with a charming story. Just a little more. Until you reach a point you can’t endure. Like a frog in boiling water.”
“And then?”
“Then, most likely he’ll take the whole thing away from you. Or he’ll spin it some other way to his advantage. Has he asked you to play backgammon with him?”
I wait. And the I smile. “Did you mean to call me a frog?”
His eyes dart from side to side quickly. He wants to know if anyone else heard his careless mistake. He seems reassured that all the men were too far away and out of earshot.
He’s told me a lot already. My eyelids dip and inside, I’m grateful for Carlo’s voice in my head. When I hear the voice of one of my princes that way, I never know how much of it is really them, or whether it’s just all my imagination. But it doesn’t really matter. I trust it and I’m grateful for it.
The air is fresh and clean up here. But thin. We must be at twice the altitude of my new house.
“I believe you’ve extended your territory. As well as the Benedetti’s, and, of course, the Fortunas I believe that the Crespi’s interests are now in your power.
“Protection, Don Romano.” I give him a smile. “The Crespi’s businesses operate now under our protection. The protection of the Benedetti and Fortuna family enterprise.”
“The Benedetti and Fortuna family enterprise sounds good.” He smiles and lets out a chuckle. His laugh is attractive and it takes me by surprise. There’s something disarming and hard to resist about such gentle playfulness, when it comes from such a brute.
