“You should have seen Carletto’s face,” Paolo chortled. “He…”
“Christian!” Daniel yelled from the Nestas’ back lawn, brandishing his football. “Come play!”
Christian heaved a sigh of pre-teen contempt and went, never looking up from his mobile.
“He didn’t let Pippo get away with it?” Sandro replied, glancing at his own children playing on
(
Read more... )