(no subject)
Mario Falcone secured his fedora before he stepped out of the silver town car the service had sent for him. Before departing, he’d handed the driver a sizeable tip with the unsaid agreement that he would promptly forget who had been in his cab and where he’d been taken. Not that it was any secret that Mario had returned. True, he’d come on a late flight and slipped quickly out of the airport, but he was in the country legally. It was also no secret where the Falcones could be found. The penthouse was well known, as was their estate in the Palisades. Still, Mario preferred as few questions be asked as he could get away with.
He entered the building and took the elevator up to the floor three down from the top. He stepped out, let his father’s bodyguards see who he was, and passed off his lone suitcase to the nearest one. He surrendered his coat to the next. They left him alone without comment.
Mario tossed his hat on a coffee table before he mounted the stairs and went up one level. He looked around and saw the closed door to his father’s study. Business as usual. But he wouldn’t disturb his father while he was working.
A faint humming caught his ear, and he turned to see a woman walking down the hallway, carrying a tray with cups of tea. It took him a few moments to recognize her. The prim, polished red-haired woman making her way toward him didn’t immediately remind him of the seventeen-year-old blond that he’d used to see when her father came to do his father’s taxes. Nadine Lewis had certainly grown up.
Mario almost felt bad pulling her out of her world, but he couldn’t help it. He grinned. “Nadia?”
Nadine looked at him, confused for a few seconds before the realization took hold. Her eyes widened as her lips parted in a smile. “Mario?” She set the tray down on a vase stand. “My God. Mario!”
“Good to see you too.” His voice had a noticeable accent. Three years in Italy couldn’t be undone in an hour. He laughed. “No one told me you were all grown up.”
“You look great,” Nadine replied.
“So do you.” He drew closer and smirked at her. As casually as if they’d seen each other every day for the whole of their lives, he drew closer and curled a piece of her hair around his fingers. He didn’t hear the study door open. “Now, when did you do this?”
“Do you like it?” she asked.
“Blond looked good on you, but red’s always beautiful.”
“Same Mario,” Nadine muttered, but she was grinning. The attention was enjoyable, after all, and he’d never been serious with his flirting through all the years before she’d moved, so she took it as nothing more than playfulness now too. “It’s great to see you. Everything got sorted out?”
“Without any problem, though I am beginning to regret that.” Carmine Falcone’s voice surprised the two. Nadine blushed slightly, but Mario only grinned wider.
“You don’t call three years a problem?” he asked.
Carmine smiled even as he spoke. “Perhaps I should have left you there another year or two.” He stepped back to motion Mario into the room. “We were just finishing. Nadia, the tea.”
Nadine picked up the tray and walked into the study, still smiling. She set it down on the desk in the room. “Should I get another cup?”
“Mario?” Carmine asked.
“I’m fine.”
Carmine nodded and then motioned to the fourth occupant of the room, the man he’d been negotiating a new business proposition with. “Mario, this is Dr. Crane. Dr. Crane, my eldest, Mario.”
Mario looked the man over and offered his hand, saying with due politeness, “A pleasure.”
He entered the building and took the elevator up to the floor three down from the top. He stepped out, let his father’s bodyguards see who he was, and passed off his lone suitcase to the nearest one. He surrendered his coat to the next. They left him alone without comment.
Mario tossed his hat on a coffee table before he mounted the stairs and went up one level. He looked around and saw the closed door to his father’s study. Business as usual. But he wouldn’t disturb his father while he was working.
A faint humming caught his ear, and he turned to see a woman walking down the hallway, carrying a tray with cups of tea. It took him a few moments to recognize her. The prim, polished red-haired woman making her way toward him didn’t immediately remind him of the seventeen-year-old blond that he’d used to see when her father came to do his father’s taxes. Nadine Lewis had certainly grown up.
Mario almost felt bad pulling her out of her world, but he couldn’t help it. He grinned. “Nadia?”
Nadine looked at him, confused for a few seconds before the realization took hold. Her eyes widened as her lips parted in a smile. “Mario?” She set the tray down on a vase stand. “My God. Mario!”
“Good to see you too.” His voice had a noticeable accent. Three years in Italy couldn’t be undone in an hour. He laughed. “No one told me you were all grown up.”
“You look great,” Nadine replied.
“So do you.” He drew closer and smirked at her. As casually as if they’d seen each other every day for the whole of their lives, he drew closer and curled a piece of her hair around his fingers. He didn’t hear the study door open. “Now, when did you do this?”
“Do you like it?” she asked.
“Blond looked good on you, but red’s always beautiful.”
“Same Mario,” Nadine muttered, but she was grinning. The attention was enjoyable, after all, and he’d never been serious with his flirting through all the years before she’d moved, so she took it as nothing more than playfulness now too. “It’s great to see you. Everything got sorted out?”
“Without any problem, though I am beginning to regret that.” Carmine Falcone’s voice surprised the two. Nadine blushed slightly, but Mario only grinned wider.
“You don’t call three years a problem?” he asked.
Carmine smiled even as he spoke. “Perhaps I should have left you there another year or two.” He stepped back to motion Mario into the room. “We were just finishing. Nadia, the tea.”
Nadine picked up the tray and walked into the study, still smiling. She set it down on the desk in the room. “Should I get another cup?”
“Mario?” Carmine asked.
“I’m fine.”
Carmine nodded and then motioned to the fourth occupant of the room, the man he’d been negotiating a new business proposition with. “Mario, this is Dr. Crane. Dr. Crane, my eldest, Mario.”
Mario looked the man over and offered his hand, saying with due politeness, “A pleasure.”