by Hazel Parker
“I don’t know who to trust anymore,” I said.
“Then trust yourself.”
“What?”
That seemed downright ludicrous. Trusting myself had gotten me a meeting with the man who had caused all the in-house fighting.
“Trust yourself,” Pierre said, as if it was so obvious a five-year-old could get it. “You trusted yourself to make the right choice with me in Paris, no?”
“I mean…”
“You may not have thought of it that way, but logically, you had no reason to confront me at breakfast or to tell me to come to your hotel room,” Pierre said. “And yet a part of you valued that idea enough that you decided to go with it. You trusted a part of you; you trusted yourself.”
This sounded a little too esoteric, a little too ridiculous for me to just buy so easily.
But what else was I going to do, trust the men in the room who had lied to us or, at best, kept some pretty fucking important secrets from us?
“You really think I’m trustworthy for myself?”
“Who knows you better than you?” he said.
He sounded like some fucking Tony Robbins knockoff. I was annoyed with Pierre for being that way. But...I also was happy for Pierre and grateful that he was the only person in that room who seemed to keep his wits. If he could do that, then maybe he did have a point. Maybe it was worth trying what he said, if for no other reason than no one else was providing advice.
I went to the balcony railing, put my hands on it, and closed my eyes. What do I believe? What do I know is true?
My generation and I were lied to. Put in a terrible spot where we had to make the dumbest of choices to meet the most archaic of rules.
But do we have to?
Could we walk away?
I opened my eyes. I had never thought about just saying “fuck it” to the inheritance sum. It had felt so fundamental to my life to follow the family rules, as much a part of life as breathing and eating three times a day, that I had never given it serious thought. But now...yes, there was the chance that marrying Pierre would give me more money than even the Ferrari Estate could shake a fist at. But the freedom to just be me…
I loved my family, but why should I feel beholden to them? Why should I feel obligated to follow the rules of a man who grew up in a time which had rules that would make no sense now?
I felt light. I felt like I could love my family but also be my own person. And if that meant risking the inheritance? If that meant risking my job? I had more than enough connections to land at just about any winery or any company in the world. I wasn’t a socialite, but my connections ran pretty far and wide.
“What do you think?” Pierre said.
I sighed and looked at him.
“I think I’m pissed your smart enough to suggest things like that,” I said with a smile, the first humor either of us had probably felt since landing in the Bay Area. “It’s given me something to think about. I appreciate it.”
“Of course.”
I pulled Pierre in for a kiss. It was short, although I lingered around his lips for a spell. I didn’t want anyone from my family to come out and make a remark. But I had to let Pierre know I still appreciated him.
“Pierre—”
The door swung open. My grandfather stood there, a frozen grimace etched on his face.
“Bill is getting the family jet. Pierre, come with me. We are going to Las Vegas to get this taken care of.”
“Pierre is?” I said.
“Layla, this is no place for a woman.”
“Don’t give me that,” I said, trying to retain my cool around my grandfather. “I can handle myself; don’t give me that sexist nonsense.”
“You will stay here and wait for our call. Pierre, come.”
That was it.
I had listened to my truth. And I was not going to handle anymore archaic bullshit.
“I am fucking going!”
Alf stopped and glared at me. My temper was getting the better of me, sure, but it wasn’t just my temper. It was years of having to live in a male-dominated household, one in which I was told, “It’s not a place for a woman.”
“Our entire lives, you have acted like I am some special little doll to be coddled,” I said. “You don’t let me go in the fields to practice stomping grapes. You don’t like to see me sweat, saying it’s unbecoming of a woman. You say I need to find a gentleman, that a woman is happiest when she is married. And I’m fucking sick of it, Grandpa. You don’t care for me. You don’t treat me like a woman. You treat me like some dainty doll that needs to be carefully watched to make sure that she doesn’t get hurt. Well, you know what? I’ve put myself in some bad spots before. I’ve been burned horribly. I’ve been hurt enough that I carried it with me for years. And I’m still here. So don’t fucking tell me I can’t go to Vegas because I’m a woman!”
I could see over his shoulder my father, my brother, and my two uncles looking at me in stunned silence. I didn’t think any of them had ever had the courage to berate my grandfather like that, but why would they? They weren’t women. Their wives or girlfriends weren’t a part of the family and could easily disassociate. I was the only one that knew what it was like to be in this spot.
“Layla,” my grandfather said. I was surprised to hear him say my name so tenderly, so gently. It was not the kind of tone I expected for someone who had just gotten rebuked as aggressively as I could imagine. “Please let me say this, and I will do my best to keep this simple. We hope to resolve this peacefully, and I believe that we can. With Pierre’s help, I believe we can all come back here in a day or two without any harm. But there is a possibility, and it is a real one, that it will not end peacefully. And while you may know hurt…”
His eyes started to well. It hurt to see my grandfather like that.
“I lost my daughter all these years ago to violence from the Nimicos. I lost my wife, the love of my life, just a couple of years ago. I have lost all of the women that I cared about in this world, except for one. You. You are the greatest woman in my life right now. I have but a couple years, maybe a few, left on this Earth before I see Mary and Maria once more. I do not want to go to the grave knowing that you face the same fate. Please, Layla. I do not need to lose the last woman that I love.”
I bit my lip. A tear fell down my grandfather’s face, the first that I had ever seen—not even at Grandma’s funeral had he cried publicly. I felt my own eyes well.
“Give me one minute,” I said, barely able to get the words out. My grandfather nodded, turned, and told everyone to get the hell inside. He shut the door, and I collapsed into Pierre’s arms.
“He cares for you,” Pierre said. “He may not know how to show it, but he cares.”
“I know,” I said, sobbing against Pierre’s chest. “I know. I just…”
I didn’t know what “I just…” There was nothing I had a clear thought of on the other side. It had just come out, and there was nothing more I could say.
“This is my promise to you, Layla,” Pierre said. “I will come back. Whatever it takes to ensure the safety of your family, of me, of you, I will do to procure it. Alf may have to hedge his bets and account for the possibility that things will go violent, but I will not allow them to. I will be back.”
With that, he kissed the top of my head. I leaned back, tears and all, and kissed him on the lips.
“You promise?” I said.
“I promise. I’m not going to disappear, whether by my choice or Gio’s. This is too good of a thing to not come back. I would soon abandon everyone else here to come for you than to save my own ass. I am doing this to make things right for everyone so that we can be together.”
I nodded. What did my gut say?
I trusted him.
“Go, then,” I said. “Just make sure everyone is safe.”
“You have my word.”
We shared one more kiss before Pierre walked through that door back into the house. I did not follow him; I was not
sure I could bear the sight of all of the men in the Ferrari family, save my brother Nick and Leo, leaving to go to something that carried the real risk of violence and death. I could hear Alf rounding up the group and heading out the front door, leaving me to myself and, somewhere in the house, likely hiding for their own safety, my mother and Frank’s wife.
I felt all sorts of emotions still, but I calmed enough so that I could listen to myself.
Yes, I trusted Pierre. I trusted he would return. I trusted he would get the Ferrari family back here safe.
But I also knew that the Ferrari family would never be the same. I didn’t know what would remain of it. I didn’t know what would become of it.
We might solve the issue of the Nimico’s demands in the short term, but there was no telling what would become of us in the long term.
Chapter 22: Pierre
We had to wait a few minutes while the pilot prepared the plane, so to better make sure that we entered into Las Vegas on equal ground, I did something I had sworn not to do until Sunday—I called Gio.
Although calling him was not something I had any hesitation doing, there was a moment as the phone rang that I thought about how much was changing now because of this. Without Layla, I would retreat to my home, refuse business, and simply live out my life traveling. With Layla, I was literally willing to engage with a man who was almost certainly a criminal in nature, if not technically in a strict legal sense.
“Ah, Mr. Perocheau,” Gio said when he picked up the phone. “I take it that you are calling because you have come to your senses and not because you are looking to waste your time.”
“I am on my way to negotiate a deal with you, Gio,” I said. “I am not looking to waste any time at all, only to be as productive as we can be on our phone call.”
But to my surprise, instead of just accepting it, Gio laughed. I had dealt with obnoxious assholes plenty of times before, but the accumulation of various slights, insults, and drama caused by Gio was starting to get to me.
“I take it you heard the call?” he said. “I assume that the pretty little Ferrari doll you have brought you to her family’s home. I know that you know the deal.”
Alf walked over to me. I nodded to him.
“Give me the phone,” he said.
I did not hesitate for a moment.
“Gio Nimico,” Alf said. “We had a deal.”
I could not hear everything that was said, but I could hear some laughter in the background of the phone.
“I don’t care what my grandson requested; we had a deal that you would not get involved. You should have said no. This doesn’t need to continue any further.”
Alf turned away from me, making it impossible for me to hear. I heard the plane start to rev on, in any case.
“We’ll be there in a few hours,” Alf said. “I expect you to negotiate in good faith.”
With that, Alf hung up the phone, turned, and handed it back to me without a word.
I could not say if what Alf had just said was going to make things better or worse, but the one thing I could say for sure was that we were walking into a room where the other side knew it had significant leverage. We wanted nothing financial, and they wanted everything financial, and that meant very clearly they were going to get all the financial extractions they wanted.
It was up to the Ferrari family, to a certain extent, to ensure that they got the non-financial terms they wanted.
* * *
We again met at Rao’s, and this time, I led the group of Alf, the three brothers, Brett, and myself to the front. One of Gio’s men, standing at the front, nodded and led us to a private backroom. No waiter or front desk even bothered to interfere. We crowded into the room, but before anyone else could say a word, Gio rose.
“No, I am not doing it like this,” he said. “I only want to speak to the Frenchman and the old man. The rest of you get the hell out.”
“You deal with one of us—” Brett started.
“Brett,” Alf said. “Leave. Same for the rest of you.”
“Grandpa, are you—”
“I said get the fuck out of here!”
Boy, Alf Ferrari was in some sort of foul mood. Even Gio himself looked surprised at the forcefulness with which Alf spoke. I only wished that I knew Alf for longer so that I could appreciate the magnitude of his swearing.
Brett, his father, and his two uncles left without a word. I knew they would not go far, but if guns were pulled or things got violent, there was nothing they could do. The best they could provide was some quick retaliation if things got ugly.
“Now then, now that we have simplified negotiations,” Gio said, which I noticed included the fact that we were now outnumbered three to two. “Here is what we want. Pierre, the deal is simply the same as before. We want you to cut out your middle man in Milan, and we want you to ship the furniture directly. However, because of your insolence in delaying, we are now in a spot where we can only pay you seventy percent of what we discussed before.”
“And in return?” I said.
I honestly gave no shits about payment. I had billions of dollars; going from a deal that might make high eight figures to mid-eight figures meant absolutely nothing to me. In fact, so long as I didn’t start to have my wealth drained, I did not care what financial terms were left.
“In return?” Gio said with an arched eyebrow. “You make money. What the fuck more could you want?”
“Allow me to rephrase,” Alf said. “I do not care what business terms you have, Gio. But I want you to leave the Ferrari Family forever. I want you to stop working with Nick. I want you to disassociate with us forever.”
Gio took out a cigar, puffed it, and stared right at Alf. Though Alf had about thirty years on Gio, it was abundantly evident that Gio had long held Alf in extreme disdain; whether because of envy, jealousy, or just pure petulance, I would never know, but I began to wish that I was the only person in this room.
“You can’t stop me from working with him if he asks for it,” Gio said.
“And you would dishonor the deal I made with your father?”
The veins in Gio’s neck bulged. The two guards by his side very subtly moved their hands to their hips and for their guns. I did not know if the Ferrari family really had the criminal resources to fight back, but I did not really care to call Gio’s bluff.
“My father and I have a very different interpretation of the deal you two struck,” Gio said. “And he is no longer here, anyway. He is where you will be before long.”
“Exactly so,” Alf said. “Which is why it is imperative to me that you abide by this deal, or we will force you to.”
“Strong words from a man that ran away from his previous deals,” Gio snorted.
“Strong words bolstered by decades of building a business into an international corporation, which gives us ties, financial resources, and connections you can only dream of.”
Just like the argument at the house, I felt like I had somehow landed in the middle of a movie shoot. The only thing I knew was that however Alf wanted to deal, I would support him. I was just here to get the deal done so they would leave Layla the fuck alone.
“Are you threatening me?” Gio said.
“Is declaring a statement of fact a threat?” Alf said. “If I were to threaten you, Gio, you would know it. And you are welcome to kill me. But if you want to ensure that the entire Nimico family gets killed over the death of an old man who wants to go to his wife in the afterlife anyway, then you go right on ahead.”
Gio stared down Alf. I admired the old man’s gruffness, but a part of me was not so keen on being included in this murder package deal. There was no way that if Gio ordered Alf killed, I would somehow be spared. He might have been halfway through death’s door, but I had not even rounded the corner to it.
“You talk a strong game for a coward,” Gio said. He turned to me. “What do you want out of this? You’ll get money. I’m not so stupid as to make a deal with you that’ll lose money.
”
“I am aware,” I said. “If we are speaking of topics other than economics, I only request one thing. I request that whatever deal you and Alf Ferrari come to, the deal between you and I means you leave Layla alone forever. If you or anyone acquainted with you sees her, you do not approach her. You should act as if you have never known her.”
“Well, she is a babe, but I suppose we can find plenty of other pussy.”
“That is my granddaughter, Gio,” Alf sneered.
Gio took another puff of his cigar and bellowed in laughter.
“Oh, Alf, you always were the one with a stick up his ass, weren’t you?” he said. “All these years, and you haven’t changed a damn bit. I suppose it’s your greatest gift, but it’s also your fucking curse.”
Gio sighed.
“This is my pledge to you, Alf. For as long as you live, I won’t go near anyone in your family. As far as I am concerned, if you don’t reach out to us, we won’t reach out to you. Your grandkids will never again hear from a Nimico, and I’m willing to extend that courtesy beyond your grave. But once you die? Your kids have still engaged us to some degree. We will strike a temporary peace for now, but we will have to talk to Nick, Frank, Bill, and your other one when it is all said and done.”
Your other one?
“Let me make it clear, Gio,” he said. “If you so much as dial any of my grandkids from a fake number or send a letter to my sons; if you so much as catcall them in the streets; if you so much as smile at them when they walk by, this deal is off, and I will come down on you.”
“Oh, so I guess the girl doesn’t matter, huh?”
The girl? What is he talking about? Alf, though, said nothing, leaving the meaning of Gio’s words a mystery.
“Fuck it, it doesn’t matter,” Gio said. “As long as this French asshole is on board, I’m good with it.”
I needed zero time to think about it. I might have made a deal with the devil, but at least a deal with the devil provided some strange sense of freedom. Better a contractor with the devil than a slave to him.
“I’m in.”
