“Sure.” Pietro stood up. He went over to the window. His rumpled shirt, untucked, hung low over his trousers. “Chiara . . . she’s probably the one who’s paid the highest price. Quite a failure, don’t you think?”

“What are you referring to?”

“Myself. As a father, businessman, husband . . .”

Sitting on the desk was a box, and next to it was the wrapping paper, ready to be snugged around it.

“Do you ever feel sorry for yourself, Dottor Schiavone?”

“Like everybody. But then something clicks inside me and I decide that I’ve had enough.” He stood up. Went over to the window. “Do you want to know what’s happening while you’re sitting in here being depressed?”

Pietro looked him in the eyes. His eyes were dry. But the skin under the eyelids was twitching.

“You’re wrapping presents for who knows who . . . What is it, a bottle of perfume, there on your desk?”

The CEO of Edil.ber swiveled around and looked at the box. “Yes, it’s a bottle of perfume,” he admitted.

“Carnal Flower . . . and if you ask me, it’s not for your wife.”

“I think you ought to mind your own fucking business.”

“I really can’t do that, seeing that the women in your household have dragged me into this matter yet again. Giuliana is at her wits’ end, and you know that. Your daughter, on the other hand, who is an amazingly strong individual, gave me something, something that I’m going to take to the judge tomorrow.”

“And just what would that be?”

“A lead. Maybe a faint one, just a hint of a lead, but it might be something that could help you. Something that might finally discredit Luca Grange and his little team of assholes.”

A dim light flickered on deep in the man’s eyes. “What did my daughter give you?”

“Some documents, very interesting ones.”

“Why didn’t she give them to me?” Berguet whined.

“To you? To a father who doesn’t know which way to turn, and who spends his time with whores when he’s not at work?”

Pietro took a breath and said nothing.

“What would you have done with them? You would have just screwed things up, I’m here to tell you. Instead, the girl, who is smart, very smart, believe me, gave the papers to me. And thanks to her, there may still be hope for you, for your family, and for this construction company.”

Pietro recovered his smile. “And you can’t tell me what—”