Page 148 of The Wrong Vintage
“Cesare wants someone with a stronger pedigree and international appeal,” he says, voice cool and even, like a frosted windowpane.
“Cesare wants someone with a penis,” Renzo quips dryly.
Rio smiles a little, and it looks ominous. I think it’s just how Rio looks. “As chairman, Cesare can veto an executive-level hire, Nico.”
“Yes.”
“Will he veto?—"
“He will,” I interrupt.
Rio gives me a measured look. “And then?”
“And I’ll tell him that as CEO, executive-level hiring decisions are under my purview.”
Rio’s eyebrows go up in surprise. “And you want to do this even though you know how he’ll react?”
“Yes.”
Rio looks at Renzo. “Is he serious?”
Renzo leans back, his fingers steepled. “Si.”
A shadow of amusement flickers across Rio’s mouth. “You doing this for personal or professional reasons?”
I shrug. “Does it matter?”
“Indulge me,” Rio drawls.
“I love my wife. She’s absolutely qualified to succeed Matteo. She’s an Alighieri to boot.”
He searches my face, like he’s missing a piece. “Cesare doesn’t care about that.”
“I don’tcarewhat Cesare cares about,” I retort honestly. “I’m running this company, and while I’m running it, I make the hiring decisions.”
I’m surprised by how calm I sound. I know this will end badly, and it doesn’t matter—because I know I’m doing the right thing.
“He can remove you as CEO, Nico.” Rio squints now as if he’s trying to make sense of all of this, of me.
“Tell me something I don’t know!” I don’t pretend to hide the sarcasm.
“In fact, Nico, I have it on good authority that hewillfire you if you don’t hire either Fontana or that other guy…. Whatsisname?” Rio looks at Renzo.
“Elda Costa,” Renzo supplies.
“That’s the guy from Frank Cornelissen’s operation in Sicily?”
Renzo dips his head in agreement.
“Right.” Rio looks at me now, holds my gaze as if he’s testing my resolve. “What will you do if he fires you?”
I look out at the river’s dull sweep, at my own reflection ghosted over its surface, and think of Alessia standing ankle-deep in vineyard dust, her fingers staining with soil as she makes decisions that will echo through decades—decisions I’ve been shirking while I smoothed tempers and swallowed my words.
“Nothing,” I say at last.
Rio chokes out a dry laugh. “And you, Renzo? How many days do you think you’ll last if Nico is fired?”
“Don’t worry. If he fires Nico, he’ll have my resignation on his desk before he can sayvaffanculoto me.”
