1. Antonio
Chapter one
Antonio
Present Day, Florence
“ Y ou will do what I say.” My father’s voice booms through the conference room’s speakerphone. Giovanni and I share a look, then mute our microphone.
“Fuck him,” I mumble. “Why does he still think we’re going to roll over and do whatever he says?”
My father is and always has been a narcissistic, mean bastard, and as an adult, I’ve made it my mission not to let that stop me from doing the right thing.
Gio frowns at me. “Tone it down, bro.”
“When are you going to stop defending the asshole?”
“He’s our father, and that deserves at least some level of respect.”
“Maybe if he’d ever acted like a father, I could buy that bullshit.” My gaze narrows. I love and respect my brother, but we’ll never agree on this point.
“Fine. But even ignoring that, our father is still chairman of the board.” That’s one of the biggest challenges we face in expanding our business into new markets, so I don’t need to be reminded.
My hand curls into a fist. “Even if we have the facts to back up our proposal when this audit is complete, he still won’t sign off on the new distribution contract.”
“The audit is going to take weeks, probably even months,” he mutters as I once again look to him for guidance.
Shortly after I became CEO of the Barbieri Foods subsidiary, I discovered some rather alarming financial data and presented it to Gio.
There’s no one I trust more in this world, and I knew that as the CEO of Barbieri Wines—the corporation’s other more successful subsidiary—he would know what we needed to do next.
My brother has a brilliant business mind, which is why he’s been so successful, so I’m confident he’ll come up with a solution that won’t include doing nothing.
“Surely there’s something we can do,” I prompt him.
His brow creases in concentration while the board members on the call ramble on in the background.
“Our only chance will be to get the support of other board members.” Gio glances up, a plan forming in his steely gaze. A slightly darker blue-gray shade than my own.
“Fine, but that won’t be easy when the other family members on the board have followed our father’s lead like lemmings for years.”
“Which is why we’re flying to Naples tonight like our father requested,” he says, and my gaze narrows on him. “And before the next meeting, we’ll meet with the board members individually to convince them of the cost benefit in moving to the new contract.”
“And our father?” I ask, my voice full of skepticism.
“He’ll know nothing about those meetings,” he declares. I’m glad he’s confident, because I don’t have the same level of optimism.
He flicks the unmute button. “Excuse me, gentlemen. Father? Antonio and I will meet you in your Naples office tomorrow morning, as you suggested.”
I cough out a laugh, earning me a glare from Gio. The idea that it was a suggestion is ludicrous.
“Thank you, son. I knew I could rely on you to make your brother see sense.”
Of course daddy dearest can’t resist the urge to praise Gio as the golden child while sticking another knife in my back.
It was Gio who managed to convince the board to vote me in as CEO of Barbieri Foods.
If it had been up to my father, it would have been a cold day in hell before he saw me in any position of power.
I don’t know what I ever did to make him hate me, but I’m fucking sure he does.
With Leo and Nico, our younger brothers, the hate he directs at them can be attributed to their refusal to join the family business.
Yet I did, and apparently, that still wasn’t good enough for him.
We end the call shortly after the dictator commands we be at his office at eight in the morning.
“Don’t let him get to you,” Gio says, grabbing my shoulder.
“He only says that shit because he knows it’s the only control he has left over you.
” With a final squeeze, he drops his arm to gather his papers strewn across the table.
“Grab what you need in your office, and we’ll walk back to the hotel together. ”
It only takes me a few minutes to pack up my laptop and the paper copies of the financial reports I was going through earlier this afternoon.
Then we leave our Florence offices, walking past the Duomo before turning down one of the many narrow streets that fan out from the square.
It’s a short stroll to our hotel on the banks of the Arno River.
The Forbes Hotel chain is owned by one of Gio’s close friends, which means that our suites across the hall from each other do not skimp on luxury.
It’s a shame I won’t be enjoying any of those perks tonight, as the call I’m overhearing between Gio and the pilot of our private jet means I’ll barely have enough time to throw some clothes in a bag before we leave for our flight to Naples.
***
Later That Week
The bundle of paper lands with a slap on the long wooden conference table, and in the strained silence, it has the same effect as a hand striking each of the board member’s faces. “Here are all the reports. We’ve done the work.”
My father doesn’t even glance at the stack of crisp white pages. “I don’t care about your reports. We are not changing distribution contracts.”
My temper flares, but I hold my tongue for once.
“Let’s vote on the proposal,” Gio says in a calm voice that defies the tension in his jaw. He hides his anger so much better than me. But have we done enough this last week in Naples to secure the votes? I fucking hope so.
Tension fills the air like a thick soupy fog as the members of the board, my brother, and I cast our votes.
Two of our uncles, my father’s younger brothers, don’t look up, seemingly counting rings in the wood grain surface.
We knew we would never sway them to go against our father.
They’ve spent their lives following his lead.
The remaining family members look around the room, seeking answers and finding some when they land on Gio.
Our cousin Bruno is the only absentee, but with his grandfather holding his vote, we don’t expect it will deviate.
A personal assistant—whose, I’m not sure—circles the table, collecting the votes in an aged wooden box.
Even this performance reeks of the old ways that thwart Gio and me at every turn.
We don’t want to remove all the traditions passed down from generation to generation, but if we don’t modernize, there will be no family business to protect in the future.
The nameless young woman stops beside my father, her hand visibly shaking as the box bumps on the table in front of him.
Across the polished wood, my gaze locks on Gio’s blank stare.
He can mask his emotions better than me, but then again, he’s been part of this dog and pony show longer, so he has more practice.
With a tilt of my head, I glance sideways, watching as, one by one, my father pulls the white cards from the box. For fuck’s sake, he’s wringing the drama out of the moment.
One pile continues to grow, while only three cards sit in the other. Storm clouds brew in his blue-gray stare, the same unusual shade that my brothers and I share. But in his case, they have never been anything other than icy wastelands.
A chair scrapes against the wooden flooring, bucking behind my father as he stands, and my cousin jumps beside me. I turn to face Gio and smile.
It was his genius suggestion to make it a secret ballot, effectively removing our father’s coercion tactics. Many he’s subjected us to over the years, and his version of emotional bullying.
“I want it noted that I am against this proposal.” My father’s face has turned beet red, and he bangs his fist on the table, the sound reverberating around the walls.
“Father, please sit,” Gio asks in a tone that leaves no room for argument. My eyes track between the two men. Gio’s show of strength through calmness ratchets Father’s temper a degree or two higher, but he retakes his seat.
He can carry on and bluster as head of our family as much as he wants, but the board has voted, and even he is powerless to go against that.
“Antonio and I will proceed with the contracts and report back to the board next month with progress,” Gio says, glancing around the table at each man and woman, our uncles, aunts, and cousins. “Should we move on to the next agenda item?” he asks, facing our father.
“There is nothing further to discuss. This board meeting is closed,” he bellows, rising again and, this time, striding to the door and leaving.
The door slams shut behind him with a bang , and a collective sigh of relief fills the air. Silently, the others rise one by one and leave until only Gio and I remain.
“So that went well,” I joke.
Gio’s face is anything but amused. His mouth had pulled into a firm line and his eyes narrowed. “I don’t think we’ve heard the last on this.”
His ominous words wipe the smug smile right off my face; he might be right.
But that’s something for another day, because Lucia messaged late last night, asking if I could meet her in Capri for the weekend.
Our friendship is as important as the relationship I have with my brothers, so nothing would stop me from dropping whatever I’m doing to be there for her, in the same way I know she would for me. It isn’t often, and there’s always a reason behind the random invitations.
After a quick message to my PA, my meetings for tomorrow have been rescheduled to my already long list of meetings next week. It’s a small price to pay if Lucia needs to talk.
“I have to go,” I say, closing my laptop cover.
Gio’s brows rise. “Where?”
I haven’t had a chance to tell him I won’t be returning with him on the jet to Florence.
“Capri,” I reply. “I’m meeting Lucia.” I have my own villa there not far from the family one, although it’s only my brothers and Lucia who know of its existence.
“Is she okay?” he asks, knowing that when Lucia and I meet, it’s usually planned into my calendar weeks in advance.
This last-minute invitation is rare, but she’s just extricated herself from a six-month relationship that was doomed from the beginning. When we last spoke, she sounded upset but insisted it wasn’t over the breakup, so there must be something more going on.
My friend has a smile so beautiful it could light up a room at night, but lately, she appears to have hit the dimmer switch, and I need to know why.
My gut churns with anger when I think about her asshole ex.
I only met him once, and that was enough to know he didn’t deserve her.
She’s my best friend, and sometimes I think I know her better than she knows herself.
The vulnerability she wore as a young girl has always called to my protective instincts.
“She’ll be fine,” I promise my brother.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Gio’s nod. He’s been an observer to my friendship with Lucia long enough to know not to ask any more questions.
“A long weekend in Capri sounds pretty damn good after the week we’ve had,” Gio muses, and I feel guilty at leaving him to return to Florence to start work on the new contracts.
“Sorry, bro,” I say, but it’s impossible to deny the smile that works its way across my mouth in anticipation of seeing my friend.
Lucia is the only woman I can spend hours talking with or sitting silently next to. A reflection of her easygoing nature or my poor choices when it comes to the women I date. Maybe even a combination of both. Everything is just easier with her.
I shoulder my packed bag, then head toward the door, giving Gio a tap on his arm as I pass. “See you in Florence in three days.”
Again, his only response is a nod. We had a minor win today with the board vote, but as he said, we need to be prepared for what comes next. Because with our father, there’s always something that will come next.
And these few days away may be the last for a long while.