Revenge at Bella Terra Read Online Free PDF Page A

her. That was why the house overflowed with everything from a priceless watercolor painted by the once-starving artist Nonna had befriended, to a pile of shiny rocks given to her by her eager grandsons.
    Yet one thing was missing: a priceless old bottle of wine, and more than anyone in the family, Eli wanted that bottle. It was not only his heritage; that wine held the taste of the past and held the secrets of their future . . . or perhaps the contents were vinegar.
    But if Eli held that bottle, Tamosso Conte would hold no power over him.
    Eli rubbed his forehead with both hands.
    Foolish thoughts. The bottle had disappeared. It wasn’t his to start with. He needed more than it would bring at auction.
    And the mess he was in . . . it was all his. All his.

Chapter 4
    “ W hat’s the matter, dear?” Nonna stood in the doorway, Olivia at her elbow, the other women behind them.
    The game of Australian football was over, and they were staring—at him.
    Desperation aided glib answers. “I was trying to decide which plates to use, Great-grandmother Adele’s American Sweetheart or the ones from Target.”
    Clearly scandalized, Nonna said, “The good plates, of course. We’re celebrating Rafe and Brooke’s marriage!”
    “But we have to hand-wash them.” His question had been a ploy to distract her, but his despair was real. Hand-washing those plates took hours .
    “I’ll do it, Eli,” Nonna said reprovingly.
    “No, you won’t, Nonna.” Brooke shot Eli an angry glance. “You can’t get your cast wet. We’ll do it.”
    “You’ve been on your feet for too many hours.” Francesca tucked her hand into Nonna’s arm.
    “I couldn’t sit down. The game was too exciting!” Nonna’s eyes sparkled as she remembered.
    “I couldn’t either, and I’m pooped.” Kathy pushed her walker up the hallway toward the kitchen. “Come and sit down with me.”
    Great. Now Eli felt like a heel for inadvertently suggesting his grandmother should wash dishes.
    Brooke came in and pushed on his shoulder. “A man’s place is in the kitchen. Let the girls set the table.”
    Bao joined her.
    Eli lingered, but Brooke knew her way around Nonna’s house—she’d been visiting since junior high—and Bao had been with Nonna as her bodyguard from the first week after the attack. These two moved efficiently to set each place with the perfection Nonna demanded.
    So Eli collected Nonna’s cut-crystal champagne flutes and headed into the kitchen.
    Francesca was quizzically looking in the oven at the eggplant Parmesan casserole.
    Kathy was painfully lowering herself into a chair.
    Nonna still stood, almost bouncing on her toes. Company always energized her. “Eli! What kind of champagne did you bring?”
    “Just for you, some Frank Family rouge.” Nonna loved her pink champagne.
    “You’re a good grandson.” She put out her arm and hugged him. “Thank God I’m off the pain pills.”
    “We’ll make sure you don’t drink too much.” Eli laughed at her moue. Nonna knew her wines, but she was a taster—she sipped, nothing more, taking pleasure in the flavors, not the intoxication that followed.
    She started to pull the vegetables out of the refrigerator for the salad. Rafe gently bumped her out of the way and took over.
    Olivia assembled the vinegar and olive oil for the dressing.
    Rafe took the loaf of whole-wheat sourdough, sliced it in half, drizzled it with olive oil, and mashed roasted garlic on top.
    Noah started a huge pot of water boiling for the pasta.
    “What am I supposed to do?” Nonna asked. “I feel like an old lady standing here while everyone else works.”
    “You’ve done for us our whole lives,” Rafe said.
    “Let us do for you now.”
    “You know us, Nonna,” Noah said. “As soon as that cast is off, we’ll be over here cajoling you to bake us your special chocolate-chip cookies.”
    Everyone paused for a moment of reverent silence. Bao walked in. “She makes good chocolate-chip cookies?”
    Brooke