Page 45 of Bene

“Your last name is also Falco—that’s Italian.”

He wasn’t stupid.

And he could push the line until she snapped.

“I know a little.”

“Catholic, too?”

Vanna smirked a bit. “Of course.”

Goddamn.

Who was this woman?

She was perfect in every sense of the word.

She turned her attention back to the painting of his parents, tilting her head to the side a bit as she took in the plaque underneath it that stated the artist, and people featured. All the paintings in the mansion had that little plaque.

“Your parents have a lot of art.”

“One whole hall is dedicated just to pieces of our family.”

“And a lot is just … expensive art, Bene.”

He nodded, coming to stand beside her. She wasn’t wrong. Paintings decorated the walls of the mansion. Statues and different pieces his mother and father picked up along their travels over the years filled every nook and cranny. That was before he got into everything else. From the imported rugs to the custom tapestries. Or his mother’s library—filled with rare, first edition books. His father’s three garages, brimming with custom vehicles.

Guzzis had expensive tastes.

It came with the lifestyle.

Never was there a better show of their wealth, however, than inside their homes. None of his brothers were quite as showy as his parents, but they were still pretty … excessive. Yeah, that was as good of a word as any.

“A good way to hide vast wealth is in material things, or that’s what my father always says. Sure, we’ve got a lot of money in the bank, and spread across investment portfolios, but you’ll find the real money in my parents’ properties, and what’s inside those properties.”

“Like the art,” she replied.

“Exactly.”

“Why, though?”

Bene cleared his throat, shifting from foot to foot. “That’s … not an easy answer.”

Because it had to do with his legacy.

Their family name.

The business.

Mafia.

A lot of his father’s illegal business brought in more money than any person would know what to do with, and so to hide what he couldn’t launder to make clean, Gian often spent it. He donated money, too, but Cara was the one who chose which charities their money would go to at the end of the year. Mostly, money just got spent. New homes. Lavish vacations. Pieces of art. Renovating. Things.

It was easy to hide it.

Easy to liquidate.

“We have a lot of money,” he settled on saying.