Her Italian Millionaire Read Online Free PDF Page B

Vista dei Mare at eight o'clock,” he said.
    “Vista dei Mare? That's so far. Can't you come to town?”
    “No.” He wished she'd decline. It would make his life easier. He had no time for women now. Maybe after he'd brought Giovanni in, maybe not. Women had messed up his life more than once. Women had distracted him and he was prone to distractions anyway. This time he would concentrate. This time he would win.
    “All right,” she said. “I'll be there.” If she could have slammed the phone down, she would have, but of course she was using her tiny, jeweled cell phone.
    Marco went back into the hotel and spoke to the clerk again. This time he gave him some money along with his instructions. He was barely out the front door to the patio when his phone rang again.
    “Nonna, what is it? I told you not to call me on my cell phone.” Why had he ever given anyone this number?
    “I tried your number, but you are never home, if you call your empty house a home. The shutters are closed and the tomatoes in your garden are withering on the vine. Now, don't forget dinner tonight,” his grandmother said. “I am cooking the puttanesca sauce right now, your favorite. With tomatoes from my garden.”
    “ Ai dio mio ,” he said under his breath. “Sorry, Nonna, I can't make it tonight.”
    “ But it's my birthday,” she said.
    “It is? No, it isn't. That's what you always say. Your birthday is in April.”
    “What kind of a grandson doesn't call his grandmother to wish her happy birthday?” she said as if he hadn't spoken.
    “Happy birthday,” he said.
    “Antonio Ponti gave his grandmother a new flat screen TV for her birthday with a remote control.”
    “Is that what you want?”
    “I want my grandson to call me once in a while. Now that you're back in town I want you to come for dinner when I make your favorite dish. Is that asking too much?”
    “No, Nonna. I'll come. But I can't come tonight.”
    “You have a date, yes? You can bring her to meet me.”
    “You wouldn't like her.”
    “How do you know? Did you hear Antonio is getting married next year to Bianca Camerata.”
    “In bocca al lupo ,” he muttered . Into the mouth of the wolf.
    “What?”
    “I wish him the best.”
    “Better hurry or all the good women will be taken,” she said. “You're not getting any younger.”
    He leaned against the brick wall of the patio and closed his eyes. She didn't need to remind him he was getting too old to play games. To chase thieves or women. After he caught Giovanni, he'd retire from this kind of work and take a desk job with the agency.
    “I'm not getting married,” he said. “It's too late. I'm too old. And all the good women are taken.”
    “ Non fa niente ,” she said, dismissing this excuse. “I'll find you someone and you can settle down here in town where you belong. Since when is forty too old for a man? Think about me, do I die before I become a great-grandmother?”
    Neither mentioned his sister Isabella and the reason she wouldn't be able to give Nonna the much-wished-for great-grandchildren.
    “I'll think about it,” he said wearily.
    “Don't think,” she said. “Do.”
    He hung up with a wry half smile. If she knew he was after Giovanni, she would have understood and wished him Godspeed. But he wasn't going to tell her or anyone until it was over. Until the bastard was behind bars and the diamond was back where it belonged.
     
    Anne Marie woke up from her nap groggy and confused. Her inner clock said it was morning but the sun was setting here on the Amalfi Coast, casting a golden glow over the cliffs and turning the sea to the color of lapis lazuli. She splashed cold water on her face and got dressed in the same outfit she'd worn to meet Giovanni. She wasn't going to see anyone she knew tonight.
    When she went downstairs to ask the night desk clerk if she'd had any messages, he said no. Of course not. She had her message from Giovanni; she had her instructions. Then she consulted her