“Are you really quitting?” Ferrara said after a pause.
“Yes. I know it’s sudden and I have to give you two weeks to find a replacement, but…”
“It’s fine,” Ferrara said, just as Jordan knew he would.
He smiled to himself. Compared to dealing with Damiano, Ferrara was so easy to read and manipulate. “Thanks. I’m leaving for Italy, so if you or my replacement have any work-related questions, you can call me.”
“Are you sure?” Ferrara said.
Jordan knew he wasn’t asking about whether he was sure that they could call him if they had questions.
“I am,” he said.
“That life isn’t easy,” Ferrara said. “I left it behind for a reason. Did you really think it through?”
Jordan licked his lips and thought about it. During their captivity, Damiano had told him a little about why his stepbrother had left Italy, about the toxic atmosphere in the Ferrara household caused by Raffaele’s drunkard mother and cheating father on top of the usual stress that came from being the heir to the family business.
“You were running from something,” Jordan said quietly. “I’m running toward something. That’s the difference. I can put up with a lot for him.” I can’t bear a life without him in it.
Ferrara was silent for a while before chuckling. “Tell Damiano I expect a small island with a thank you note from him as my Christmas gift.”
Jordan rolled his eyes. “You’re such an asshole. You had nothing to do with this.”
“I’m the one who introduced you.”
“You have a strange definition for ‘introduced,’” Jordan said with a snort, but he found himself smiling. He did like his boss—when he wasn’t being an asshole to Damiano. “I have to go. Tell Nate I said hi.”
“Hi yourself,” Nate said.
Apparently he had been on speaker all along. Again.
“Hi,” Jordan said with a laugh and hung up.
His smile slipped as he put his phone into his pocket.
For all his resolve, he was far from certain about how Damiano would react when he turned up in Italy without warning.
He might be royally pissed off.
Or worse—he might be unhappy.
Chapter 27
By the time Jordan arrived at the house Damiano was supposed to be in, it was late morning. He didn’t feel hungover anymore, but he was tired and cranky after the overnight transatlantic flight and then the flight from Rome to Sicily. Thankfully, the cool December air made him feel a lot better. It was nowhere near as cold as it had been in Boston, but the air was refreshingly cool and the view was amazing. It was such a beautiful place, the gentle sea breeze adding a touch of salt to the vibrant air.
Jordan breathed deeply, looking up at the big white house on the hill, before walking to the gate, his suitcase’s wheels very loud on the ancient cobblestones.
He could see the security guards watching him carefully as he approached, but thankfully, they didn’t shoot on sight, which he had been half-afraid of.
One of the guards stepped forward, a hand on his holster, and said something in Italian. Was his tone menacing?
Jordan cleared his throat. “Hello. I’d like to talk to Lorenzo if he’s here.”
The man frowned but pulled out his phone. He said something into it—Jordan really needed to learn Italian one of these days—and then told Jordan in heavily accented English, “Wait here.”
So he waited.
After what seemed like forever, Lorenzo walked out of the gate. His stoic face changed when he saw Jordan, though Jordan didn’t know him well enough to judge if it was a bad change or a good change.
“Hey,” Jordan said, feeling awkward as he suddenly remembered that the last time he saw Lorenzo the guy had bought ointment for his sore ass. Talk about awkward.
“Hello,” Lorenzo said, his brows drawing close. There was some wariness in his body language, as if Jordan was the dangerous one with the gun between the two of them. Lorenzo glanced at Jordan’s suitcase. “What are you doing here?”
“I want to see him. Tell them I can be trusted to go inside.”
Lorenzo gave him a flat look. “Can you be trusted?”
Jordan had always gotten the feeling that Lorenzo didn’t exactly approve of Damiano’s relationship with him, and this confirmed it.
“I can be,” Jordan said, looking him in the eyes. “We’re on the same side here. You don’t need to protect him from me.”
Lorenzo studied him for a long moment, his gaze unreadable. “You could have called him and told him you were here.”
“I want to surprise him,” Jordan said. It was only part of the truth. He was half-afraid that Damiano would be angry and turn him away, not wanting to be associated with him so openly. The dirty little secrets weren’t supposed to walk up to his home in the middle of the day, after all.
Lorenzo’s face was still like stone.
“Please,” Jordan said. It didn’t come easily to him. It wasn’t a word he used often.