Chapter 6 : Heated Confrontations

*Jacopo’s POV*

The wooden cuckoo clock ticked away the seconds, each one feeling like an eternity as I waited for my father to return from his clandestine meeting. I watched through the large bay windows as a sliver of orange sun slowly descended behind the distant hills. The room dimmed, and gradually, shadows crept in, casting ominous shapes on the floor.

The villa had been in our family for generations, and I knew every winding path, vine-draped wall, and creaking floorboard. As a child, I roamed these grounds with carefree pleasure; I slid down the banister of the grand stairway, climbed in the sprawling oak tree, and lay daydreaming beneath its shade. Now my father hinted at his plans to sell it—a thought that filled me with sadness.

I sat on the couch in my father's study and looked around at all the familiar knickknacks and artifacts he had accumulated throughout his life; reminders of days long passed. It seemed unfair for him to just abandon everything like this without any regard or remorse for how it affected me.

I shook my head, the weight of my anger and disappointment making it feel heavy. My body thrummed with a tension I barely contained as I paced around the room, my fists clenched so tightly that my knuckles had gone white.

The familiar melody of "The Entertainer" drifted down the hallway, and I closed my eyes against the dread welling up inside me. My father stepped into the study with his shoulders back and his chin held high, an air of superiority around him like a cloud. But instead of unleashing his usual barrage of criticism, he smiled when he saw me.

"Jacopo, I had a feeling you'd be waiting here for me," he said.

"Why did Elena tell me you're selling the villa? Why on Earth would you go behind my back like this?" I immediately began my interrogation.

"I've already told you I shelved the idea, son. Right now, it's an eye sore. I hired Sophia and Luca to restore it. You should be grateful that the property won't sit and continue to waste away," he countered.

"I've told you a million times, I want to do it myself. I've just been busy, but I'm going to get around to it. Those two idiots are going to ruin everything special and unique about it. They're young, Dad," I argued.

"Do you think I'm dense? I wouldn't hire someone whom I believed wouldn't be able to take on a project. They're going to restore it. Nothing more, nothing less," he fired back.

"Just leave the villa alone. Let me have it, and I'll ensure all of the necessary renovations are done properly," I countered.

My father chuckled and looked at me with admiration. "It's yours, Jacopo. The villa belongs to the family and the famiglia. Take over as head, and you can do with it what you want."

I kept my gaze lowered, my hands clenched at my sides as I fought the urge to scream. My father's wrinkled face was etched with thinly veiled disappointment. He knew his ploy had failed. His attempt to have me take over the family business, so he could retire in comfort, hadn't worked - yet. I felt nothing but resentment for him in that moment.

My fingers trembled against my leg as I clenched my jaw. I refused to look up.

"I'm not having this conversation right now," I said, trying to keep the anger out of my voice, "Emotional manipulation isn't going to work, father."

With that, I turned on my heel and marched out of the room before he could say another word. I stormed through the hallways, my footsteps echoing off the walls. I wanted to get away from him and from this dreary mansion.

As I took a step to the left, a figure barreled out of nowhere and collided with me with such force that we were both knocked off our feet. They hit the ground with a dull thud and groaned in response.

"Oh! Jacopo! I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed. "I didn't mean to run into you like that."

I scanned the figure of the young woman sprawled on the ground. She had a head full of wild, dark curls and was wearing a striped sweater with jeans that were coated in dirt and dust from rooting around in the villa. She glanced up at me, eyes wide and fidgeting - I could sense her fear.

"What are you doing here, Sophia?" I asked, disdain dripping from my voice. I hated to admit to myself that she was beautiful though.

She blinked nervously, then scrambled to stand up, "I'm here because your father hired me. That's it. I'm not here to start a turf war with you over the renovations. I don't want there to be bad blood between us, and I'm sorry your father is doing things against your wishes," she said, meeting my eyes with a fiery determination.

Suspicion overtook me once more, "Are you sure you weren't spying on me at the market?" I asked her.

She shook her head vehemently and held up her hands in defense, "I swear I didn't mean to start any trouble. I'm sorry if it looks that way - it's just a coincidence."

Sighing, I felt my shoulders relax slightly. She was telling the truth - I could see it in her eyes. There was nothing malicious or sinister about her intentions here; she had been thrown into this just as much as I had.

Before I could say anything else, my father cleared his throat from behind us, "Jacopo, leave Sophia alone. I won't have her here dealing with a hostile work environment."

He shot me a pointed look and I knew that this was not up for debate. Reluctantly, I stepped away from her and allowed the tension to dissipate as we both looked at him in puzzlement.

"Sophia will be taking charge of the renovations," he said matter-of-factly, "You may not like it but she's more than capable of handling the load - even if you don't agree."

He paused and gave me a stern look before continuing, "This is not an invitation for you to interfere or take over any part of the project; let her do what she came here to do."

I held my tongue and nodded slowly in agreement. My father smiled warmly at Sophia then gestured for her to follow him into another room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

As they disappeared around the corner I couldn't help but feel a wave of anger pass through me once more. This was all a power play on my father's part, and the only way I could get ahead of him was to take over the family business. If I did that, I’d give him exactly what he wanted.

Still, I had to find out who this woman was. I didn't even know her last name. I decided to call a friend of the family to look into Sophia and Luca, the man was here now and had also been at the market the day I saw her. Was this all coincidence, or was there something else going on here?

I dialed the number for the man I always went to when I needed information about someone, Francseco Moriarty.

"Jacopo, long time no talk," he said when he answered.

"I'm sorry, Franc. You know how life gets. It's been busy here," I apologized for the lapse in communication.

He chuckled into the phone. "No apology needed. I get it. What's up?"

"There's a man and a woman here working on the Villa Rossi. My dad hired them, and I want to know everything there is to know."

There was silence on his end, and I worried for a moment that I had cut off the connection.

"You want me to find out everything about them?" he said finally.

"Yes, that's right," I answered.

He was silent again, then said, "I'm sure your father had them investigated, are you sure you want me to go behind him?"

I sighed heavily, "I don't know if he had them investigated, but I'm sure there's more to the story than what he's telling me. I just need it for my own peace of mind."

Francesco was silent again before finally responding. "I'll see what I can do. No guarantees though."

"Thank you," I replied before hanging up the phone.

I knew Francesco would come through for me, but all I could do was wait. In the meantime, I'd have to keep an eye on the pair. My father had basically forbidden any interference on my part, but that didn't mean I couldn't quietly keep tabs on them.

Seeing her at the market that day had been like a lightning strike. Her oval face had been framed by her dark curls, and her bright eyes seemed to sparkle with an intensity I wasn't used to seeing. She had moved confidently and gracefully amongst the art like it was her birthright to be there. Her enthusiasm for Italian art was infectious. The moment had seemed genuine and random, and it was almost impossible to believe it had been orchestrated. Nothing was impossible where my father was concerned, though.

I trudged along the gravel driveway, my shoes crunching with each step. I opened the door to my cottage and flicked on a lamp, its yellow light calming me. Glass in hand, I stepped out onto the balcony and looked up into the vast abyss of stars twinkling in the night.

For a moment I allowed myself to dream, to think about my father's plans and the possibilities that lay ahead. Did he know something about Sophia and Luca that I didn't? Was his hiring of them part of some grand scheme? I needed answers, but it seemed, for now, all I could do was wait.

But as the proverb goes, 'the waiting is the hardest part'. Like art seemed to be Sophia's calling, my father's business was mine. Whether I wanted it or not. I sighed but was pulled from my thoughts of the future when my phone rang.

I glanced at the screen and saw it was my sister. "Hello, Elena. How are you?"

"Jacopo! I've missed you, how are you holding up?" she asked, her voice bubbling with concern.

She knew my father and I had been butting heads, so she had been checking up on me a lot recently.

"I'm fine," I answered, "What's up?"

"Nothing much," she giggled, "I just called to gossip about Viviana and Antonio. They're dating and they don't think anyone knows about it."

I rolled my eyes, "You know gossiping about your friend circle isn't really my thing," I said.

"Oh, come on," she whined, "You don't even have to participate if you don't want to. Just listen."

I couldn't help but laugh at her enthusiasm and shrugged in agreement. She filled me in on everything that had been happening in her friend group, and I chimed in occasionally when she said something that warranted a response. She always knew how to pull conversation from me, even when I wasn’t willing.

Before I knew it, we hung up and I headed to bed, anxious to see what fresh Hell waited for me tomorrow.