phone, the ones Haydon sent you of where he was living. We thought we might be able to figure out where he was by the various photographs. They’re the ones who discovered the tracking program. No way was I bringing that back to you, so I just got you a new one and told them to take off everything to do with your work and make certain it was clean.”
“Thank you. I should have known. More than once he took my phone from me and demanded to know my pass-code. I thought it was to see my schedule, so he could threaten me by hanging around.”
“He can’t get to you now, Grace,” he assured.
She stared down at the cell phone in her hand. “He gets very angry when he doesn’t know where I am. I got used to him demanding my schedule.”
Vittorio frowned. “I want you to really think back, cara. Even when you were children, was he always with you? Did he depend on you to do anything for him?”
She didn’t answer right away. His thoughtful Grace. He liked that trait in her. The stillness in her. She brought a sense of peace to her surroundings. She’d lived in a potentially violent world every minute of the day since she became aware of what Haydon truly was. From that, possibly because of it, she’d developed inner tranquility, a place inside her that she could depend on when everything around her turned to chaos.
“He’s older than I am by a couple of years, but he didn’t talk much. When I first went into the foster home, he was already there. He was thin, and very small. Back then, I was extremely small, and I think he liked that I was littler than he was. It made him feel big. My other foster brother, Dwayne, was a bully. He liked to push us both around. I stood up for Haydon when Dwayne kept tripping him. That’s where it started with us.”
“No one had probably ever stood up for him before.”
She put the phone on the table and reached for the pitcher of icy strawberry lemonade Merry had placed on the little table beside her glass. Vittorio’s hand got there first. He would have to talk to Merry about expecting Grace to pick up a full pitcher of ice and juice. It was too heavy. He poured a glass for her and then went to the small, freestanding bar to pull out a glass for himself.
“Mr. Ferraro?” Merry’s voice sounded strained, and he turned. She stood there wringing her hands, looking nervous. “Mrs. Ferraro is here.”
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Grace stiffen. He wondered if she thought he was secretly married. The thought made him smile. The moment he saw the woman bearing down on them, her expression grim, her face a mask of anger, the smile disappeared. Instinctively, he put his body between his mother and Grace.
“This is ridiculous, making me stand waiting in the foyer like I’m some salesman. Your staff needs lessons on protocol. I’m talking to your mother, Merry, about your atrocious manners. When I come to my son’s home, I don’t expect to be told to sit and wait as if I’m some commoner visiting the king.”
“Hello, Eloisa,” Vittorio drawled. Deliberately he crossed the room, bent his head and brushed his mother’s cheek with a barely there kiss.
She jumped back, recovered and glared at him. Her hand went to her cheek and brushed at her skin, as if she could remove his mark on her. “Stop that, Vittorio. I know you do that to annoy me.”
“It’s a gesture of affection, Eloisa, which most mothers appreciate.”
She glared at him, hands on hips. “Well I don’t, so stop it.” She looked past him to Grace. “It wasn’t enough that you had Teodosiu Giordano panting after you, you had to go after my son. Vittorio does have a bigger bank account, but I think Giordano will suit a girl like you so much better.”
Vittorio swung around. “Teodosiu Giordano expressed an interest in you?”
Grace curled her fingers around the tall glass of strawberry lemonade. “He asked me out several times, yes. I refused to go out with him.”
“I’ll just bet you did. Are you pregnant? Did he knock you up and throw you out on your ear so that now you are going after my son?”
“Giordano was an enforcer for Miceli Saldi for years. He came into a great deal of money and ended up a loan