He painstakingly shaved the stubble on his face as he mentally planned his day. He had lunch with the governor to discuss the new laws on importation of grapes. It was a favor for his father who was experimenting with a new breed. He was negotiating a deal with a Napa Valley winery but he needed to be sure his grapes would make it through customs. In the afternoon he had a meeting with auditors to get the results of their audit. New boss meant reboot of all systems. Which meant auditing all systems. Going through that was likely to take all evening and then he had a benefit to attend at the Vanderbilt estate. He wouldn’t normally bother with the hobnobbing but Carlo Vincenti would be there and he had a casino in Vegas he was selling. It was on Paolo’s bucket list to own a casino on the strip and he was determined to get this one.
“Sir?” Marisol called, “Would you like to go over the day’s itinerary?”
“Sure,” Paolo said nonchalantly, “Just let me brush my teeth.”
*****
“You ran a multinational Matador, what do you want with a casino?” Carlo asked him later that evening as they smoked Cubans on the patio of the Las Vegas hotel.
Paolo, nickname Matador, shrugged, “That’s my business. So gimme a number.”
Carlo laughed, “Just that easy huh? I give you a number, you pay it; et voila, you own a casino.”
Paolo inclined his head to the right, universal gesture for ‘you got it in one.’
“Well okay then, why don’t you have your people get in touch with my people and we can talk this over like proper businessmen?”
Paolo stared at him, dark eyes narrowing ominously as his hook nose seemed to stand out more, “I thought we were already discussing it.”
Carlo laughed, “Matador,” he said chidingly, “this is a benefit for children with special needs…or something. It’s not really the time or place.”
Paolo knew he was stalling, he just didn’t know why.
“Fine.” He said, “Marisol will set something up for this coming week.” Paolo knew he sounded over-eager but he didn’t see why he should pretend not to want this when he clearly did.
“Alright then,” Carlo said with a smarmy smile before walking away.
“il bastardo” Paolo murmured to himself as he watched Carlo go. He lifted his cigar to his lips and took a long hit. It had been a long day and he was tired. It was time to go.
He fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed one, “Marisol? Get me all the dirt that exists on Carlo Vincenti. And set up an appointment for next week for us to meet.”
He hung up and stepped back into the ballroom, striding across and dodging dancing couples as he made his way to the coat rack. It was way past time he was home in his bed – his eyes rose as he felt a body scurry to intercept him; Lisa Vanderbilt; she’d been flirting all night – alone.
“Paolo hey. You’ve been so elusive all night,” she complained coming to a stop in front of him, running a finger down his chest, “Such a tease.”
Paolo smiled without humor, “I’m sorry to be such a disappointment. But I have to go.”
“Oh boo,” Lisa said leaning into him.
Paolo lifted his hands closed them around her wrists and pushed her off him, “I really have to go Lisa.” He said stepping around her and walking away. He didn’t miss the thunder of her face though.
*****
“I have a blank check offer for The Palazzo. But I don’t like the Matador. He’s a pompous SOB. So give me an offer I can’t refuse and the casino is yours,” Carlo said the next day as he sat down to lunch with Benjamin Lafitte. The other man laughed as he stirred his Brandy Milk Punch. He leaned back in his chair and studied Carlo, an amused smile on his face. Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out his checkbook and a pen. He signed his name on one of the leaves and passed it to Carlo.
“Blank enough for you?” he asked.
Carlo smiled and pocketed the check.
*****
Marisol knocked tentatively on Paolo’s door and just from the way she knocked let him know that there was bad news. He looked up from the plans he was studying and looked at her, “Tell me,” he said.
“The Palazzo has been sold,” she said her voice barely higher than a whisper.
“Who bought it?” Paolo asked his voice cold as ice.
“Lafitte,” Marisol said in an even lower voice than before.
Paolo’s head came up, “Benjamin Lafitte?” he asked his voice shaking with rage.
“Yes,” that one was a complete whisper.
Paolo leapt up his chair flying back, “And when exactly did this happen?” he growled.
Marisol sighed and closed her eyes, “Yesterday. Lunchtime. They met, they had lunch, and after that deeds changed hands.”
“And you have this on good authority?”
“My guy at the gaming commission gave me the heads up.”
Paolo sighed and sat slowly back down, “Thank you Marisol. You can go now.”
Marisol came by and placed a folder on the table, “Lafitte’s been coming after you for a while. I thought you might want this.”
Paolo’s eyes shifted to the file, with Benjamin Lafitte’s name emblazoned in large letters on the front. He stared at it for a long time before shifting his eyes up to regard Marisol, “Thank you.” He said.
Marisol nodded her curly head and then walked out, closing the door softly behind her.
*****
Paolo opened his eyes and stared at his ceiling. He had thought that maybe a good night’s sleep would have lessened the acid feeling in his chest. But no. If anything, it was worse.
“I need to go and see my la madre,” he said to himself. He reached out to his bedside table and pressed the button that summoned Marisol.
She knocked softly not two minutes later and stuck her head in the room.
“Yes sir?”
“Book me a ticket to Roma,” he said.
“Yes sir,” she said already reaching for her iPad.
*****
“Mamma,” Paolo said softly as he entered his mother’s villa. She floated over to him and wrapped her arms around him.
“Pablo my baby,” she said kissing him on the cheeks, “come va?”
“Sto bene,” he said kissing her back.
“Come in, come in. You must be so tired. Go freshen up and come have breakfast with me on the patio.”
Paolo did as he was bade; just being back in his mother’s house made him feel better about everything. His parents had been divorced since he was fifteen; finding her husband in bed with her best friend’s twenty one year old daughter had been the straw that broke the camel’s back. When his mother left, Paolo had gone with her. They had moved to the States where Paolo and his brother Giovanni went to school. His mother had come back to Italy after Paolo had finished high school because she missed it, she missed her family and she was tired of being away from her own culture. Paolo stayed to attend college and Giovanni stayed to get high.
It was only after he’d negotiated the Firenze electronics deal that he and his father had negotiated an uneasy truce. Still it was his mother he went to for advice and consolation. He also liked to bounce strategic decisions off of her.
He went to his room to divest himself of his travel clothes and then changed into his robe and stepped into the en suite bathroom. He poured himself a hot bath instead of taking a shower, and put in some bath salts and lit some candles. He was home now, and he was going to relax.
*****
“What does Ben Lafitte have against us?” he asked his mother over cappuccino.
Donatella laughed bitterly, “Benjamin Lafitte? Your father, he slept with one of his women. I was never sure if it was a wife or a girlfriend.”
“You knew?” Paolo asked his voice dropping a few degrees in temperature.
“I knew. Your father was never very careful in his exploits. And he enjoyed rubbing it in the faces of his enemies when he got one over them.”
“So why is this guy coming for me? I am not him.”
“But you are the de facto head of the family Pablo. I expect he can see that same as anyone.”
“Cazzo!” Paolo cursed, “Well now I’m gonna have to go after him.”
“And how do you plan to do that?”