Emiliano nodded. ‘All the downsides I’ve read about are from the other side of the fence to us. People who invested in a property and then the tenant left, went bust or there was some messy legal wrangle. I think it comes down to the quality of any prospective deal.’

Anticipation prickled like a ball of thistles in Piero’s stomach. ‘So we talk to Papà? He’ll be in the office on Monday morning.’

Emiliano beamed. ‘Freaking right. This could be the answer to our prayers. I wonder why Zia didn’t say something earlier? It could have saved a lot of aggravation.’

Piero nodded, closing his laptop with a snap. ‘Good question.’

Though he drove home exhausted he didn’t sleep well. He’d grown used to Zia’s lush nakedness against him and the movements she made in her sleep. He left his shutters open so he could see the stars but could find none of his usual pleasure in them.

How could Zia think he was capable of pulling the sneaky stroke she described? How could she? Why would she? How dare she? He got that her ex had tried to be controlling – he never understood the ‘women are property’ thing himself – but that was her ex. Piero had done nothing to deserve that. The heavy, disillusioned thuds of his heart seemed to fill the room.

On Sunday morning, stale and out of sorts, he buried himself in his workshop. The fresh, resinous scent of wood filled his nostrils as he turned a finial for the play house roof on the lathe. At lunchtime he ate with little appetite, gazing out at the glorious view of the vineyard that had caused all the problems. Not feeling as excited as he should about preserving that view for himself, he spent the afternoon preparing a presentation on the sale-and-leaseback of Tenuta Domenicali. Furious as he was at Zia questioning his integrity she had – eventually – pointed out a potential solution.

In fact, his opening words when he began his presentation on Monday morning were, ‘This may be the solution we’ve been looking for.’

Emiliano was almost bouncing in his seat. ‘I think so, too.’

Salvatore looked interested. Graziella looked indifferent.

An hour later, Piero felt optimistic. Salvatore had become more and more engaged, firing questions without voicing a single negative. Emiliano was already talking about recruiting to fill Piero’s and Salvatore’s shoes if sale-and-leaseback could be achieved.

Piero laid down the pen he’d used for pointing at his screen. ‘It seems a gateway to us all getting what we want.’ He didn’t add including Graziella getting her life of luxury via Papà but he thought it.

It was a surprise to realise she was wearing a stony expression. ‘I still vote for the Binotto deal,’ she said simply.

Piero glared at her perfectly made-up face. ‘It’s good to know how you’d cast your vote if you had one.’