To Love Again Read Online Free PDF Page B

the carpet, and the taller clearly wished that he might disappear instantly through the floor. A butcher perhaps, maybe a baker, working men, laborers perhaps. And when they spoke, their voices were coarse but awed and respectful. They were aghast at what had happened. They were beside themselves to learn that the car was his.
    What happened? He continued to look confused but his voice was gentle and his eyes were kind, and if he felt any dismay about his car, he betrayed it not at all.
    We were driving; it was very crowded, your honor. You know, lunch. Amadeo nodded patiently as he listened to the tale. A woman and a little girl were running across the street; we swerved so as not to hit them, and' . The shorter man grew redder still.' we hit your car instead. Not too bad, but it hurt the car a little. We can fix it. My brother has a shop, he does good work. You'll be pleased. And we pay. Everything. We pay everything.
    Of course not. We'll work it out between our insurance companies. Is there a great deal of damage? He tried not to show the unhappiness he felt.
    Ma. ' We are so sorry. Not for all the world would we have hit your honor's car. A Fiat, a foreign car, anything, but not so fine a car as yours. The taller man wrung his hands, and at last Amadeo even smiled. They were so absurd, standing there in his secretary's office, probably more demolished than his car. He found himself having to suppress a burst of nervous laughter and was suddenly glad that Isabella was not around to look mischievously at him with her mock-serious gaze.
    Never mind. Come, well go and look. He led them to the tiny private elevator, inserted his key, and stood with them as they descended toward the first floor, the two men with heads bowed in humiliation and Amadeo attempting to engage them in some ordinary banter.
    Even Ciano had gone to lunch when Amadeo stepped outside and looked up the street toward the car. He could see their car still double-parked beside it. It was a large, awkward, antiquated-looking car and might in fact have been heavy enough to inflict some serious damage. With a look of masked concern he strode up the street, the two men walking nervously behind him, clearly terrified by what he'd see. As he reached his car, walking along the sidewalk, he noticed that a third companion was still waiting in the ancient Fiat, looking unhappy as he saw Amadeo approach. He inclined his head in brief salutation, and Amadeo stepped around his car into the street to inspect its injured left side. Slowly his eyes swept along the side as he stooped over slightly, the better to see the damage they had done. But as he hovered there, bending over, his eyes suddenly narrowed in confusion; there was no damage, no dent, no injury to the beloved car. But it was too late to ask them further questions. As his eyes widened in surprise an object of immeasurable weight swept down brutally on the back of his neck, and sagging instantly, he was pushed and then pulled unceremoniously into the back of the waiting car. The entire matter took less than an instant and was neatly handled by Amadeo's two innocent-looking morning callers. The men slid calmly into the Fiat beside their friend, and it pulled sedately away from the curb. Within two blocks of the House of San Gregorio, Amadeo was neatly bound and trussed, a gag and blindfold secured, and his motionless form lay silently, barely breathing, on the floor of the car as his kidnappers drove him away.

Chapter TWO

    The sun had just set with a bright flow of orange and mauve as Isabella stood resplendent in green satin in her living room. Delicate brass and crystal wall sconces cast a soft light around the room. She glanced at the deep blue Faberg+! clock on the mantelpiece. She and Amadeo had bought it years before in New York. It was a collector's item, a priceless piece, almost as priceless as the emerald-and-diamond necklace carefully clasped around her neck. It had been her grandmother's and was said