CHAPTER TEN #3
Slimeball Steve rolled his eyes. “It’s a good offer, Mr. Barone. It would suck if this got dragged to court.”
“It would, wouldn’t it?” I piped up. “You said so yourself, that Mr. Barone is financially comfortable from his very successful football career. So do you really think it’s wise for your clients to draw out this legal battle? Who do you think can afford better lawyers for longer?”
Ha-ha!
He wasn’t expecting that rebuttal, and his greasy feathers were clearly ruffled. I did my best not to smirk at how uncomfortable he quickly became.
“My clients are determined to get what is rightfully theirs,” he finally said.
“And I’m sure Tom and Guiseppe are determined to hang on to what is rightfully theirs. The question is, whose pockets are deeper?”
Slimeball Steve puffed up his chest, glanced at Tom, then back at me. “You have one week to accept our offer.”
“Then what?” I scoffed.
Color drained from Slimeball Steve’s face, and I had to roll my lips inward so I didn’t laugh. He didn’t know what happened after that. He was just the messenger. Just a person sent to do the dirty work of the head honcho.
“Got it,” I said, nodding. “One week. Bye-bye now.” Then, I shooed him away with my free hand.
Standing there on the porch, hand in hand, with Tom vibrating beside me, we watched the smarmy suit with the fake Rolex climb behind the wheel of his Tesla and drive away.
Not until that gray monstrosity had turned onto the main road did I release his hand. Or at least tried to. But he gripped me like a buoy in a hurricane.
Turning to face him, with our hands still clasped, I took in the real fear on his face. Fear mixed with anger, mixed with sadness. There was even a dash of hopelessness, if I was being honest.
Why was he hopeless though? He was Mr. Moneybags.
This super-successful, retired footballer, who in his heyday made seventeen million euros a year.
Yeah, I totally spent a good hour Googling him today when I should have been working.
But once I started down that rabbit hole, it was impossible to get out.
He’d lived such a fascinating life, I just couldn’t stop reading.
He ran this sanctuary out of his own pocket, paid for vets and farriers to be flown over by helicopter, and rented nurse mares with less than twenty-four-hour’s notice.
Those were the actions of a very successful, very financially comfortable, very compassionate man.
A man who deserved to keep the land that his late wife grew up on.
The land that belonged to his son, whether Guiseppe wanted to live here or not.
“Hey,” I said softly.
He blinked at me a few times. “That wasn’t the first time that’s happened, was it?”
He shook his head.
“First time they’ve offered money though?”
He nodded.
“They’re getting more desperate.”
Another nod.
“And it’s your father-in-law’s sister and her son? Your … wife’s cousin?”
His third nod.
“Does Guiseppe know?”
His nod was noncommittal this time. “He knows some.”
Blowing out a gradual breath, I scanned his face.
Damn, he was handsome. And he just seemed to have gotten sexier with age too.
Because, yeah, my journey down that rabbit hole revealed a lot of pictures of Tom in his younger years.
And he was a looker then too. He had multiple brand deals over the years with various clothing companies, a razor brand, and a cologne.
He walked the runway one year when an Italian designer got a bunch of footballers to be his models for a fashion show.
And I ate up every picture with a big spoon, wide eyes and tingles all throughout my body.
Dropping his chin to his chest, he finally released my hand—which made me kind of sad—and scraped his fingers over his short stubble, the scratchy sound causing my nipples to tighten just a little.
“I thought if I ignored it, they would just go away. Realized it was stupid. This is Guiseppe’s land.
We spread Erin’s ashes down at the beach along with her parents’.
Even if he doesn’t want to live here, I know he doesn’t want to give the land up.
He asked me to fulfill Erin’s dream. To keep that part of his mother alive. ”
“Let me speak with my cousin. Gabrielle is a lawyer, and while this might not be her area of expertise, she can certainly take a look at any paperwork they’ve sent you, and possibly refer you to a lawyer who handles this stuff.”
“Si. Okay.” The man looked defeated and drained, and all I wanted to do at that moment was pull him into my arms and hug him.
But I’d already overstepped enough by holding his hand for as long as I did, and while I didn’t think he minded, my conscience was rapidly catching up on the situation and reminding me just how far out of my comfort zone I had already stepped.
“Have you eaten anything today?” I asked. “Have you even gone into the house since I left?”
He didn’t have to say anything for me to figure out the answer.
Shaking my head, I pressed my lips together, then clucked my tongue in disapproval. “Tommaso Barone, you need to eat too. Not just the animals need breakfast, you know.”
His lips twitched, and a bit of a sparkle entered his eyes again. He even nodded, just a little.
As if she had bionic hearing, Portia came bursting through the dog door of the barn and around the vehicles, grunting. She clambered up the porch steps no problem and stood at our feet, grunting even more emphatically at us.
“Did she hear me say breakfast and come running?” I asked.
His smile grew even more, but only up one side of his mouth, and his lips remained closed. “She is a pig. What do you expect?”
“Self-restraint?”
That made him laugh. He opened the front door. “Come on, dolcezza. Let’s go share a banana.”
“Eat more than half a banana,” I called after him.
He gave me a wave, but didn’t turn around. Then the door closed, leaving me standing there on his porch, unsure where I stood with the sexy Italian, but determined to help him save his land and his wife’s legacy either way.