Unwanted Inheritance

by K. Forest

  Angelo chimes in, “I’m so much better looking than Sonny. Honestly, I’m insulted the guy thought he was me.” His joke is an attempt to lighten the mood.

  By their totally deflecting the issue, I immediately know it was a big issue, but I decide against asking questions at the time. There would be another chance without Claudette present.

  Chapter 11

  Angelo and I end up driving Claudette and Tony to the Lugano airport when it is time for them to leave. Looking in the rearview mirror, I notice Claudette and Tony are unusually quiet. They both have peculiar looks on their faces.

  “How are you feeling, Claudette?”

  “Ugh, lower your voice, Sonny.” She exhales. “I’m fine. Nothing a six-hour siesta during the flight can’t cure.”

  “You were quite the karaoke singer last night, queen of the night.” Chuckling, I pull up to the private aviation doors at the airport, hitting the brakes a little abruptly to wake up Angelo, who has drifted off to sleep next to me.

  “Shit, Sonny! Your driving skills are horrid, easy on the brakes.” He garbles.

  Tony reaches out and slaps the side of Angelo’s head.

  “Stop it! What is it, pick on Angelo day?” He asks petulantly.

  I step out to help with the luggage knowing Angelo won’t be of any use. I give Claudette a solid hug. “See you soon, keep me updated on your internship.”

  “Great time as always, Sonny.” She gives me a quick peck, then she turns and does the same to Angelo. Twirling around, she walks through the doors, leaving her luggage for Tony.

  “Looks like your Claudette’s bitch on this trip, Tony.” Angelo jokingly mocks.

  Tony gives him the finger while he yells, “Thin ice, Angie! Be careful.” Shaking his head at me, he adds, “Not sure how you are not in a mental hospital being that dick’s twin. He drives me insane each time I’m with him.” After giving me a perfunctory hug, Tony immediately signals the skycap over for assistance. “Arrivederci, assholes!” He shouts as he walks away and into the airport.

  Angelo comes up next to me and crosses his arms. He nudges my elbow with his. “You know they are finally doing the dirty, right?” We face each other, and he smiles at me. “Just wanted to keep you updated on current events, brother.” He pats my wrist and gives it a quick squeeze. It leaves me with a slight jolt of pain, and he quickly asks with exaggerated concern if I am okay.

  “I’ll drive since you are in so much pain and a sucky driver.” He howls at his own joke and jumps into the driver’s seat, leaving me to reluctantly join him in the passenger seat.

  Grinding my teeth, I hold my wrist gingerly in my lap. Unlike my brothers who are a patchwork quilt of various tattoos, I was a blank canvas. On our last night together in Como, my brothers and I decided to get bonding tattoos on a whim of family nostalgia. I have no regrets about getting the quote tattooed on the inside of my wrist. It’s small, discreet, and hopefully forever true. ‘Blood is thicker than water.’

  Reclining in the SUV, I am already missing Claudette and Tony’s company. The past couple of months have been crazy between meeting Lia and all the drama and adventure that accompanied her, celebrating Mateo’s wedding, and the family birthday celebration. I was ready for some downtime, but with only a month left before heading back to the States, I still had to wrap up some last-minute details on the Vegas casino piece of property. Godfather had not been feeling well and suggested I take Angelo with me to see the horse breeding estate I wanted to look into, which is the reason we are now going together to this meeting.

  “I plugged the address in that Uncle Carmine gave us,” Angelo says, bringing me out of my musings. “It looks like it will be about an hour drive from the airport. How many horses are we looking at?”

  I open an email glancing over the details. “Today, we will see two, one mare and a yearling colt. The mare is a Sardinian Anglo-Arab breed, brown, four years old, and the yearling is a gray Siciliano breed. I’m a little curious about him.” I say while studying its bloodline.

  “What? The Ducati doesn’t cut it for you anymore? Turning to horse racing is another whole new part of you I didn’t know. I’ll make sure to make note of that in your file.” Angelo remarks sarcastically.

  Ignoring him, I listen to a voicemail that Lia left while I was saying my goodbyes at the airport. “Mr. Ferrari, I appreciate your business integrity by signing over the two percent. To clarify, that does not allow you to start tearing down or renovating any existing buildings on my property. Going forward, all items must be approved by me and me alone. Len understands this new change and has agreed to adhere to it. Sometimes, as you know, he is prone to making rash decisions. I have seen your plans on the barn renovation, and they are magnificent.”

  “What’s the grin for?” asks Angelo.

  Looking at him, I shake my head. “Nothing that is any concern of yours, dear brother.”

  “Let me guess, it’s Lia. She must be a great lay. She’s way too bossy and uptight for me though; too much work. Just my two cents.”

  “Noted, Angie. I’ll let you pick my next conquest.” I joke.

  “Really? I’d set you up with a perfect woman, my dear brother. I’ll let you know the minute I spot her because I will know immediately.” He says knowingly.

  I look at him quizzically because I get the whole twin-thing, but we couldn’t be more different when it comes down to women. “Angelo, I was joking. You worry about your own love life and leave mine alone. And, by the way, what’s with you and Krista? You know she’s a guardian to my protege. I don’t really want you messing with her and getting her pissed off.”

  He gives me a strange look and then amps up the volume on the radio, drowning out any further discussion.

  An hour later, we arrive at an open-gate estate. We drive up a majestic, oak-lined driveway, with white-fence-surrounded pastures on both sides, when suddenly I notice a black flash from the corner of my eye.

  “Holy shit, look at that horsepower.” Angelo says in amazement. The blur vanishes as we continue toward a grand circular driveway. At the end, stands a beautiful home that possibly dates back to the sixteenth century. It appears it had been thoughtfully renovated, respecting its original character. The yellowed stone facade and multiple roof levels blended beautifully with the surrounding fields and trees.

  “Shit!” yells Angelo while simultaneously slamming on the brakes and giving us whiplash. Once recovered, we both stare at the cause of our sudden stop. In front of us stands: a majestic black beast with a singular beauty taking command on top of it.

  “Wow!” Angelo says as I mirror his look and word. Wow is the only word that I can come up with. I’m willing my twin to feed me more descriptive words at this moment. My brain is liquified, and my heart is pumping faster.

  The woman is dressed in a cream-colored riding outfit and black riding boots with a matching riding helmet. She flashes us a bright smile and proceeds to trot the horse toward the back of the estate, effortlessly controlling the large beast.

  “Holy shit, did I just dream that? I’m not sure which one is more stunning,” exclaims Angelo.

  The woman for sure, I think to myself.

  I hear him saying something else, but my attention is still preoccupied. He waves his hand in front of my eyes and begins bombarding me with questions. “Are you planning on getting out of the car? What is the guy’s name who we are about to meet?”

  In annoyance, I hand him my phone, so he can read the email. As we both finally get out, I try regaining some composure. Standing, I gaze at the sight before us. Rolling green fields with ponds scattered throughout give the scenery a picture postcard look. From around the corner of the house, I see a gentleman leisurely strolling towards Angelo. Vaguely I hear Angelo introduce himself to the man. I lag behind both of them as we round the corner of the large house towards the back where the Friesian stallion disappeared with the beauty. We approach yet another smaller house attached to two small stone stables and a large one. Strollin
g over to the large stone stable I had seen her disappear into, I find myself still completely enthralled by the woman on the horse. Almost there, I hear Angelo calling loudly to me. With a shrug of my shoulders, I realize answers to the mystery woman will just have to wait until my business is concluded. Turning around, I head back to Angelo, reeling in my mind to focus on the business ahead.

  “Santos, come here. I like to introduce you to Mr. John Morrone.” I reach out my hand toward a tanned, leathery looking man with steel gray hair.

  “Pleased to meet you, Santos Ferrari.” I introduce myself.

  Although his eyes had seen many days in the sun, they crinkled up in a smile as he returns my handshake. The strength in his grip belied his weathered look. He was definitely younger than he looked. “Thank you for coming today. I’m sorry that your uncle couldn’t make it. I always enjoy our discussions. I’m sure you will be very impressed by our facility as well as the prized horses we successfully breed at our small but exclusive stables. I’m very happy to see your family showing an interest.”

  “My uncle sends his best regards, and he looks forward catching up with you in the near future,” I say.

  “Is that black Friesian we saw for sale?” Angelo says interrupting us.

  “Oh, I’m sure if you ask the owner, he will say every horse is for sale given the right price. However, Miss Katarina, the rider and trainer, would say no.” He says with a smile, waving his hand to direct us towards the large stable. “Please follow me, and we will get started with the presentation of the horses you came to see.”

  He proceeds with his speech, which I’m sure he has repeated hundreds of times before. The property boasts forty-five acres of riding space, and two smaller stables are strictly dedicated to their pedigree program with each totaling twenty stalls. The main barn houses ten stalls, a tack room, a wash stall, a loft, and a three-car garage for the tractors and horse trailers. We finish up in the Olympic, state-of-the-art arena.

  “Please have a seat, and we will bring out the first horse.” He gestures to our seats which have folders for each of us. Angelo picks up a glass of water from a tray and sits. I follow his lead, doing the same. “In your folders, you will find the stats on each horse. Miss Katarina will be bringing out Cleopatra, a four-year-old mare. Her bloodline is Sardinian Anglo-Arab.”

  He then takes a seat next to Angelo who starts asking Mr. Morrone questions.

  I look up, and immediately my heart slams into my mouth. There is the beauty who almost caused us to crash. She was now walking like a royal princess beside a spirited mare. No longer wearing her helmet, her shiny, sun-streaked ponytail can sway free. She stops in front of us and gives a brief smile. Mr. Morrone makes the introductions.

  “Pleasure to meet you, Katarina. We look forward to your presentation of the horses.” Angelo pipes in his usual charming voice.

  Mine! Already imprinted, step the hell back, brother! I silently growl looking at Angelo who I know can hear my thoughts by the way he meets my eye. I turn back to the beauty, and immediately tingles coursing through me. What the hell is happening to me?

  “Please, call me Kat.” She says to him still smiling, then glances at me.

  Her cerulean eyes widen, and her smile falters. Damn, I realize she’s experiencing what

  I’m feeling, an indescribable intoxicating feeling. Hell, I didn’t even know what the heck I am feeling, only that I have never felt like this before. All I know is this woman is seared into my memory. Standing up, I walk over to her with my hand out. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Katarina, I’m Santos Ferrari.” She’s not a Kat, she is definitely a Katarina.

  Her innocent features betray her shyness. She looks away as though she is trying to process what she’s feelings. Slowly, she places a slim, gloved hand to mine.

  “Kat, please excuse my brother Santos. He went to boarding school, where he learned to be overly formal.” Angelo says with a chuckle at my expense. “Santos, come sit down so we can let the lady show this beautiful mare.”

  She pulls away with a slight frown on her face, leaving me standing there dumbfounded. “Cleopatra and I just started saddle work about a month ago. She lives up to her namesake and can be very spirited. The first week or so she bucked, but now she’s grown comfortable. She still loves testing me for lead when I’m circle lunging her though. My suggestion would be to continue without riding for a few months. That would allow her to mature and build the necessary comfort level around you.” She says while slowly stroking the mare. I find myself wondering if she was talking about herself or the mare.

  Mr. Morrone straightaway follows up on the mare’s bloodline of trophy winners. Katarina gracefully walks the spirited mare to the middle of the ring and begins lunging her like a pro. After a while, she starts the cool down and walks her back to us.

  “Please approach slowly so you can exam her.” She requests. Mr. Morrone takes the rope while Katarina lifts the hoofs for us to examine. “My recommendation is to assess each leg from knee to hoof. Swelling is a good indicator if there is a problem.” Katarina says. It seems when she is leading and talking about horses, she is totally in her element. Here, she exudes total confidence. I watch her walk the mare back to the stable. Wearing her tightly fitted riding ensemble, I am privy to every feminine curve she has.

  Next up is the yearling colt. Again, she has full mastery as she explains his personality and future potential. She has yet to look at me again. I’m fully prepared to continue buying every horse the stable owns in order to keep seeing this woman. How can one woman, whom I’ve only met once in this time and space, flip my world upside down?

  Katarina is cooling down the yearling colt who easily obeys her every command, and I stride forward, beating Angelo this time to the inspection. I hear him release a little chuckle. Slowly advancing on the yearling and Katarina, I ask her again to show me the proper way to check for swelling on the legs. She looks up to see if I am genuinely interested in her showing me the process again. I focus on the colt’s legs to help cover up the fact that I’m feeling like a completely infatuated fool around her! Reaching for the colt, her voice turns husky as she strokes his leg.

  I lean down, deliberately placing my hand over hers moving them down to the yearling’s hoof. The only swelling I feel is my heart and in my pants. She could easily become an addiction. My usual composure has completely spun out of control.

  Mr. Morrone regrettably breaks our moment. Taking command, he rather curtly ends the presentation. “Gentleman, please follow me to the conference room where we can discuss numbers.” He smiles and nods over to Katarina, dismissing her.

  “I would like to look at the Friesian stallion. Could you show me him, Katarina?” I ask not wanting to separate from her just yet.

  Aghast, she looks up at me as though I were the spawn of Satan. “He’s not for sale.” She states flatly.

  “Everything is for sale if given the right price.” I say very neutrally.

  I then face Angelo and Mr. Morrone. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Morrone. My brother will be delighted to go over the numbers with you.”

  Walking silently side by side with Katarina, I find myself tongue tied for the first time in my life. Chaperoned by the yearling colt, his hoofs clicking a beat with each step, I listen to the ambient sounds of horses neighing in their stalls and birds orchestrating their love songs to each other. Reaching the stable, Katarina hands off the yearling to the groom and gives him last-minute instructions.

  She turns to me with tight lips, hints of displeasure radiating from her eyes. “Obsidian has his own area away from the selling horses.” She offers awkwardly and proceeds walking towards the adjacent barn. Ahh, the Friesian beast’s name is Obsidian, how fitting.

  Following her, I decide my best bet is to continue talking about horses. “How old exactly is Obsidian?”

  She hesitates in answering. “He’s six and a half years old. He’s the first horse that I ever trained.” Then she adds, “We’re kindred spi
rits.” Okay, now we are getting somewhere. She’s offering information. She obviously has an emotional connection with the horse. She has made it clear she doesn’t want to lose Obsidian. I tuck that little bit of information in the back of my mind.

  “Have you been his only rider?” I continue curiously.

  “Yes, the owners have been kind enough to give me free rein with him. I believe it was out of courtesy for my father. Obsidian and I won the silver medal in dressage last year at the Olympics.” She proudly states. “We were seated number one going into Nationals until I fractured my foot.” She says sadly.

  Holy crap, she’s an Olympic medalist. I glance down at her ankles in concern. Looking back at her, our eyes finally meet again. I notice her cheeks turning slightly pink. “I’ve been one month free of my plastic boot.” She looks away shyly.

  “Wow, that’s quite the accomplishment.” I say. “Remind me of what exactly dressage is.”

  “Dressage is a test, where both horse and rider are judged on how well they can perform a series of prescribed movements. Obsidian made it easy for me; he’s such a smart fellow.”

  I am in love. Doesn’t make any sense, but hell if it wasn’t at first sight. I’d do anything to keep walking like this beside her. Anything, like asking more questions. “How long have you worked here?” I ask.

  We walk through automatic doors which lead us into another barn. “I’ve lived here my whole life.” She glances at me and gives me a slight smile. “Mr. Morrone is my father. My parents have been working for the estate since I was a year old.” A snorting sound about twenty feet in front of us breaks my concentration. It’s followed by a loud sigh. Katarina starts laughing. “Obsidian can be very theatrical when he gets bored. I couldn’t ride him for a month, and the stablemen drew straws to see who would have to lunge him. He likes to pretend he’s a brute, but really he’s my talk, dark, and handsome gentle giant.”

  I find myself smiling in total understanding and a bit of jealousy. Like the horse, I want to spend all my time with her too and be her tall, dark, and handsome giant.