“You’re nothing but a disgrace to this family and the Ferro name.”
Damian Ferro lifted his brows and stared at his father in disbelief. “Run that by me again.”
Antonio Ferro threw the newspaper onto the boardroom table with brutal force. “I don’t think I need to repeat myself. This picture of you with the Prince’s cousin speaks volumes.”
Staring back at him, in full color, was a photo of himself with the countess enfolded in his arms in a somewhat, no correction, a very provocative fashion. Nothing had happened with the lady in question, though from the embrace they shared, circumstances appeared otherwise, and he could understand his father’s irritation. “Let me explain—”
“I don’t want some feeble attempt to justify your behavior.” His voice raised, and his pallor turned red as he glared Damian down. “I listen to your excuses and your lame stories that always have a so-called good reason for your irresponsible antics.”
He didn’t like the direction of the conversation. Damian slid his tongue across his teeth and inhaled, filling the angered silence with a slow hiss. “Why do you insist on treating me like a teenager?”
“Maybe, because you act with reckless abandon. You party; you court women and change the lovely creatures more often than your socks and underwear.” His father yelled now, and Damian knew this was only the start. Though several years had passed since the man before him had raged with such livid temper.
When he was twenty-one, Damian had destroyed a brand-new Maserati. A wrong move, but he’d been young and foolish, testing how many kilometers an hour he could get the luxurious sports car moving. The vehicle ended up smashing to nothing but crumpled fiberglass and metal. By amazing grace, he had walked away without a scratch.
Now at thirty-two, he still received lectures from his father, who insisted on treating him like a child. Successful in business, Damian had made a lot of money for Ferro Enterprises. He lifted his gaze from the imaginary dot on the heavy oak table and met the stern and disappointed glare of his father. At that moment, Damian realized the silence had stretched. “I work hard. I play hard.”
“You play harder than you work and never stop and think of the ramifications of your actions.” Contempt drenched the words. “Myself, as well as the board of directors at Ferro Enterprises, is a little sick of your wine, women, and song.”
“As if I would sing karaoke.”
His father blinked in disbelief, and logic kicked in. He was referring to Damian frequenting the hottest nightclubs in Florence. Going clubbing and enjoying the nightlife as far as he knew wasn’t a crime.
“The board is disgraced with your latest display.” His father shot a disdained glance at the news.
Damn the paparazzi.
If Damian weren’t rich, he wouldn’t have this problem. Then again, he wouldn’t have his luxuries either. “What do you want from me?”
“You have less than a week to settle your wicked ways, or I will be turning Ferro Enterprises and all of its holdings over to Nello.”
“Nello is younger than me. You can’t be serious?” How dare his father turn the banks, the real estate, and the wine company over to his brother?
Most especially the wine.
“He’s married to a nice woman,” his father began. “The paparazzi aren’t splaying him across the tabloids with a different flavor of female each week with your two cronies who are as reckless with their dicks as you are.”
“This is ludicrous. For the record, Gabe and Vince are—”
“Just like you a rich and reckless playboy, their father’s and I discuss the antics of the three of you often and always with lack of amusement instead of pride.” As he cleared his throat, his expression became stern. “I want you to find one woman and come across as settled. I don’t care if you have to buy her.”
Damian rose to his feet. “What about what I want?”
His father glared him down. “Don’t even talk to me of love because we both know such foolishness doesn’t exist. We are men of the world, and I was sure Sylvia would’ve taught you a good hard lesson about women and their proclamations of love.”
“I was referring to staying single, not of love.” However, the words of his father cut through his memories like a hot blade to butter. “Don’t remind me of the woman. I still have to deal with her on occasion, or have you forgotten that detail?”
“Get a girl. Go tonight to Signore Vacelli’s affair, and in the morning deliver these,” he tossed an envelope onto the table. “Take them to La Costa Vineyard and foreclose on them. That land should have been rightfully ours, to begin with.”
He hated delivering foreclosure notices. The simple task was beneath his paygrade. Damian’s only reprieve for the moment was the fact that Signore Vacelli’s gatherings were splendid and always full of beautiful women.
The question was, what was he going to do about his father’s ultimatum?
