She felt like she knew him?
Of course she did. She had paid money to see him in movie theaters and watched him on television.
He was famous. He was a movie star. He was Gavino Di Luca, handsome, gracefully aging, much-sought-after Gavino Di Luca, son of Sarah, father of Eli, Rafe, and Noah, and possibly the sexiest man alive.
Chapter 36
Nonna’s eyes lit up. She opened her arms. “My darling boy!”
She and Gavino met in the middle of the kitchen and shared a hug that seemed genuinely full of affection.
Noah supposed it was. Certainly Nonna loved her son. And Gavino was as shallow as a kiddie pool, but as much as he could love, he loved his mother.
Gavino kissed her cheeks, smiled, and said, “Did I surprise you?”
“So much! Why didn’t you tell us you were coming?”
“I didn’t want you to go to any extra trouble. You’ve barely recovered.” His face sobered. “You are recovered, yes?”
“I’m fine,” she said.
Gavino cocked his head inquiringly.
“Really,” she said. “I’m fine. Don’t worry, Gavino.”
Eli wandered in from the dining room, scowling. He seemed to consider their father’s arrival as suspicious as Noah did.
Chloë tagged along behind, her eyes as big as saucers and fixed on Gavino.
Penelope hadn’t taken her gaze off him since he walked in the room.
Because Gavino was everything a woman wanted a movie star to be: handsome, personable, charming.
Even Noah had to admit Gavino had cornered the market on charming.
On the screen, Gavino projected charisma.
Yet film muted the range of his personality. In person, when he smiled, the air around him grew warm. When he frowned, the clouds covered the sun. When he hugged his mother, all the women sighed at the evidence of his filial devotion—and never mind that he stayed on location while Nonna recuperated from a broken arm and a concussion, too dedicated to his career to abandon his current film to stand vigil at his mother’s bedside.
“I should have come home when you were attacked.” Gavino frowned and put on his best guilty expression.
Noah and Eli nodded in agreement.
Nonna frowned fiercely. “Nonsense. What could you have done? You’re not a doctor. And you had a movie to finish. It would have cost the production a fortune if you’d come home. Did you finish your film?”
“It’s in the can,” Gavino said with apparent satisfaction. “Number thirty-eight, and I’ve been the top talent in thirty of them. It’s a body of work to be proud of!”
Noah slumped against the wall and rolled his eyes. Thank heavens his father didn’t spend too much time inquiring after Nonna’s health. Obviously, it was more important to boast of his worldly accomplishments.
“We are all proud of you.” Nonna turned Gavino to face the rest of the people in the kitchen. “Look, you came home at the right time. Your aunt Annie and aunt June are visiting!”
Gavino released Nonna and hugged his aunts, then went around the room to greet the others.
He met Chloë and hugged her, exclaiming about his new young daughter-in-law. He promised he would bring her mysteries to the attention of important people in the movie business; then he poked Eli in the ribs and teased him about his hurried marriage.
As usual, Eli did not crack a smile.
But then, none of Gavino’s sons ever thought he was funny.
He met Brooke, and when she told him she was having a baby, he pretended to be delighted by the idea of being a grandfather. He insisted she sit at the table, telling her he knew from experience that she needed to sit while she could, because after the baby arrived rest would be in short supply.
Like he’d ever done a damned thing to care for any of his children.
And he met Penelope.
Noah watched her fall in love with Gavino Di Luca.
She blushed. She smiled. She fluttered her lashes.
Every female always did.
When Gavino looked into Penelope’s eyes and listened to her stammer out her favorites of his roles, he acted as if he were hearing it for the first time. And he didn’t seem to notice her tense jaw and stiff smile.
She was upset. Over Noah? And the way he had swept her off her feet and into a colossal orgasm, then walked away?
He hated to admit it, but he had one thing in common with his father: He was a jerk.
When Gavino had met everyone, and charmed the ones who didn’t know him for the jerk-off he really was, Eli asked, “What are you really doing here, Dad?”
“Weren’t you listening? I told you. I finished my movie. I came to see that my darling mother was okay.” Gavino took Sarah’s hand and kissed it.
Sarah beamed.
Penelope watched, hand on her chest as if trying to contain her sentiment.
Usually Noah managed not to care what his father said or did or where he said or did it.
But today… by God, today he wanted to shake Gavino until his teeth rattled.
“Don’t have another role lined up? Getting a little too old for the screen?” Eli projected hostility and impatience in a way he saved for lazy farmhands—and Gavino.
“Dear.” One word, one look from Sarah, and Eli subsided.
“It’s no big deal, Mama. I know my boys have issues.” Gavino kept his arm around Sarah and said to Eli, “I’ve auditioned for a couple of roles. Nothing’s come through yet. But don’t worry. I’ve saved my money. I won’t have to move in with you and Chloë… yet.”
Eli couldn’t have hidden his horror if he tried.
Gavino laughed out loud. “Don’t worry, boy. If I never work again, I’ve got enough money to support myself.” His amusement subsided only a little. “Of course, if I never worked again, I’d want to move back to Bella Terra.”
Now Noah felt himself turn pale. Just what he needed was another parent from hell in town. His mother and his father, here together…
Gavino had a lot to answer for—and as always, he would escape unscathed, because when the going got tough, Gavino pulled a magician’s trick and vanished every time.
The sooner, the better.
Noah’s eyes narrowed at the thought.
“You’re such a wonderful actor, Mr. Di Luca,” Penelope said.
“Acting’s not hard. You know what Spencer Tracy said—‘Just memorize your lines, And don’t bump into the furniture.’ ” Gavino laughed heartily.
So did everyone else… except Eli and Noah. They’d heard it before.
“What kind of roles are you up for, Mr. Di Luca?” Chloë asked.
“One for a forty-year-old with a family. One for a seventy-year-old estranged from his family.” Gavino took a breath that expanded his impressive chest. “I have a broad range I can play. The trick is convincing the directors.”
“I think you could play ‘Estranged from your family’ like you were born to it,” Noah said.
Annie rolled her wheelchair past him.
He jumped. “Ow!”
“I’m sorry, dear.” Annie looked meaningfully at him. “Did I run over your foot?”
Stop upsetting your grandmother, she meant.
Penelope glared at him as if he were a hardened criminal. Because she was already infatuated with his father. He wanted to tell her, You would be better off in love with me.
But probably not, because… He touched his tightly buttoned shirt collar.
Gavino’s gaze followed his gesture. “Auditioning for a role as the Amish farmer?” he asked.
Noah smiled tightly and took his hand away. The death he carried gnawed at his mind. He couldn’t forget; every moment he was edgy, as if the silver studs of the dog collar were stealing bits of his sanity.
His gaze sliced to Penelope.
Every moment his need to live one last, grand celebration of life grew greater, his scruples less firm.
She must have felt his eyes on her, for she looked at him, and for a long moment, her gaze
clung.
Then she looked away.
And he remembered her offer again. A quickie…
No, never. Long, slow, desperate hours of lovemaking, on a bed, on a chair, on a desk, in a tree. Wherever they were, that was the place they should love… but never quickly. He wanted to spend days getting to know her body again.
He had to think of something else.
“Gavino, I didn’t hear your car pull up,” Nonna said.
“I had the driver drop me off at the end of the driveway so I could walk up. I’ve been on a plane all day. I needed my exercise”—he patted his flat belly—“and I wanted to see the place. I almost didn’t get to. Since when do we have guards stopping visitors and demanding ID?” Apparently that rankled; Gavino didn’t like not being recognized.
“Since Nonna was attacked and people in Bella Terra started getting murdered,” Eli answered.
“Murder.” Gavino’s eyes narrowed the way they did when he played a police detective. “Really. No wonder the guard ran after that guy who was talking to Noah.”
That did it. The tension in the house rose to break-a-sweat level.
“The intruder was talking to you?” Eli asked. “Who is he? What was he doing here?”
Noah heard voices from outside. He held up his hand and listened.
Every head turned toward the back door.
Rafe and Bao came in, both covered with dirt, both scowling.
Brooke sighed in relief and went to hug her husband.
As Rafe hugged her back, Nonna asked, “Are you both all right?”
“We’re fine.” Bao wiped furiously at her face. “But we didn’t get him. The bastard disappeared like a rat down a hole.”
Rafe looked over the top of Brooke’s head. “Bao was right. Someone was watching. Someone with impressive professional skills. He used them to get onto the property, and when he was sighted, he used those skills to get off the property without a trace.” Whipping his head around, he glared at Noah. “You were talking to him. Shoemaker said you two were talking like you knew each other. Shoemaker said this thug raised his fist to you. Is this it? Is this what you know?”
Chapter 37
Noah looked around the kitchen. Every eye was focused on him: Nonna and the aunts were anxious, Brooke and Chloë inquisitive, Gavino puzzled, but his brothers… they were accusatory.
So Noah told the truth. Not all of the truth, but the truth. “The intruder—he accosted me as I walked down the driveway. He’s one of the gang that smashed that one guy’s hands.” He looked directly at Rafe. “He’s one of the gang who broke into your home. He’s fast, he’s trained, he’s dangerous”—and now Noah decided to see what he could find out from his father—“and he’s after something we hold that he cannot have.”
“I’d say that was obvious!” Rafe snapped.
Noah sliced his gaze toward their father, then back to Rafe.
Rafe looked startled, as if the idea that their father might be involved had never occurred to him.
But Noah could easily make a case to his brothers that Gavino’s arrival at this particular time signaled a reason to be suspicious.
The moment dangled like a shiny bauble, enticing Rafe to grab at it.
But before he could, June said in a soothing tone, “My polenta casserole is ready to come out of the oven.”
“I brought a fresh strawberry pie.” Chloë walked to the refrigerator, opened it, and removed the decadent red dessert.
“I can’t wait!” Annie said brightly. “Let’s all sit down to eat. We can talk then.”
Ah, yes. The women thought to ease the tension with food.
Well, why not? It always worked.
“Wash up, dears,” Nonna said to Rafe and Bao.
They nodded and went to the kitchen sink.
Nonna shooed the company toward the dining room.
Noah waited until Penelope walked past, then joined her, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back. It was an instinct, a claiming, and one he noted his brothers also utilized with their wives. Not that Penelope was his wife, but… if life was fair, she would be.
His chair was on the back side of the table against the cabinets. He led her there, then held out the chair next to his.
She looked at him, and the memory of his forceful claiming was in her resentful eyes.
“Please.” He indicated the seat, and tried to look trustworthy and not at all insane.
He didn’t have his father’s acting skills, but he must have pulled it off, because she seated herself next to him, although she turned her face away from him.
June brought the yellow ceramic casserole dish and with a flourish placed it on the table. Steam rose in the air, and the fragrance of tomatoes, mushrooms, Italian sausage, and Parmesan rose like the memory of good times past.
Everyone relaxed, and sighed, and exclaimed; then June served spoonfuls of heaven and Nonna passed the salads.
For a few minutes, all was quiet as Annie said a brief grace thanking God that the whole family could be together again; then the silence was broken by the clatter of forks and the muffled exclamations of pleasure.
Noah waited until the first pangs of hunger had been eased before he said, “Dad, we’ve had some problems since you last checked in.”
“Which is why you should leave,” Eli said. “You don’t want to be involved in any problems.”
Shut up. But Noah didn’t say a word.
“I know someone attacked Mama. How much worse could the problems get?” Gavino leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers, a move he’d learned while playing a judge in one of his most popular movies, a remake of an old Tracy/Hepburn romance.
“It’s all about Nonno’s bottle of wine,” Noah said.
Gavino stopped faking concern and got real. His hands dropped to the arms of his chair. He gripped them tightly and leaned forward. “Papa’s wine? Someone’s looking for Papa’s wine?”
“That’s right. Several someones,” Noah said.
“Joseph Bianchin, for one,” Rafe said.
Noah wanted to tell Eli and Rafe to let him handle this. But they had as much right to disdain their father as he did. In addition, Noah was their baby brother, and they didn’t trust him to handle anything. And, of course… they had no idea who his mother was.
If they knew that, they’d have more respect.
But his father knew who his mother was, so Noah said, “It seems the bottle of wine probably contains a fortune in lost pink diamonds.”
“Son of a bitch,” Gavino whispered. “Is that what it was all about?”
Noah thought that was probably the first unrehearsed line his father had given since the day he turned three. In an innocent tone, he asked, “What was what all about, Dad?”
Noah saw him snap back into actor mode. “The attack on your grandmother, of course.”
Liar.
“How did you find out about the diamonds?” Gavino asked.
“The Internet,” Chloë said.
“How did she…?” Gavino whispered.
“She looked it up on the Internet,” Eli repeated. “You know, the Internet? Where your fan club is based?”
Only Noah understood what his father meant. He wasn’t questioning Chloë’s abilities to do the research. He was wondering how, twenty-nine years ago, Liesbeth figured out where the diamonds had disappeared. “The information was always available, Dad,” Noah said. “It might not have been easy, but as long as you were willing to do research in newspaper archives and old travel records, it was possible to connect the famous winemaker Massimo Bruno to the thief who was always hanging around when the jewels vanished.”
Penelope faced Noah now. “Eighty years is a long time to remember lost diamonds exist, much less search for them.”
“Throughout history, stolen treasure has captivated the imagination. People become obsessed. They search for ships’ treasures and buried treasure and lost gold mines.” Chloë spoke with the assurance of a writer who studied
the human psyche and used it in her novels.
“In this case, where the diamonds that vanished are from one extremely valuable necklace owned by dispossessed Russian nobles who fled the 1917 revolution… the diamonds are inherently romantic. And when they’re big…” Brooke tempted them with the concept.
“Big diamonds definitely command attention,” Chloë said, “and the diamonds in the Propov necklace ranged in size from one-half carat to a six-point-eight-carat pink diamond, the Beating Heart, which has an inclusion that when viewed through a jeweler’s loupe looks like a red heart that appears to pulse.”
Noah pressed his fingers to the artery that pulsed in his throat.
How appropriate that the Beating Heart should be the death of him.
Turning, he caught Penelope’s gaze on him, on the way he took his own pulse, and once again he thought she saw him all too clearly, for he appeared to puzzle her.…
He smiled and used his hand to pick up his knife and smear a roasted garlic clove on a piece of Parmesan-pepper bread. He offered it to her. “In this family, if you don’t eat enough garlic, the rumor goes around that you’re a vampire.”
“We can’t have that. Thank you.” She took it, but she didn’t smile back, leaving him to wonder whether she was still angry or if his absentminded gesture had given her food for thought when he preferred to keep her firmly in the dark… with everyone else.
Eli lifted Chloë’s left hand.
Chloë wiggled her fingers. An impressive pink diamond flashed in its platinum setting.
Penelope did a double take. “Wow,” she said in an awestruck voice.
“This is not quite a two-carat diamond,” Eli said.
Now Gavino said, “Wow…” He nodded slowly. “So this Beating Heart diamond is more than three times that size?”
“Even without the history attached to it, with its clarity and size, it’s worth probably”—as he thought, Eli screwed up his forehead—“probably five million. In an auction with rabid buyers interested in such a unique stone, and with the other stones associated with it sold at the same time, I bet the price could go as high as fifteen or twenty million.”
“Dollars?” Rafe asked.
“No, clamshells. Of course, dollars!” Eli said.