Chapter 88: Is this Business?

Several days later, Giovanni visited Matteo’s grave.

Alexander came with him.

Neither of them discussed why Alex was there, and perhaps that was because neither needed to.

Giovanni stood before his father’s grave for a long time. He’d imagined this moment often enough over the years that he’d expected anger, relief, maybe even some sense of satisfaction.

Instead, he mostly felt tired.

"I thought this would feel better."

Alexander looked toward him.

"It doesn’t?"

"Not better."

"What, then?"

Giovanni considered the question before finally finding the word.

"Finished."

Alex nodded slowly.

"That’s different."

"Yeah."

It was.

"I spent years trying to build something he’d be proud of," Giovanni said.

"You did."

He turned toward Alexander.

"You don’t know that."

"No."

Alexander looked toward Matteo’s grave.

"But I know what you built."

That quiet answer stayed with him.

Construction. Logistics. Ysabella’s. Matteo’s. Thousands of employees depended on businesses Giovanni had taken over while grieving the loss of both parents, and somehow he’d continued expanding instead of allowing everything they’d built to die with them.

His father’s death had shaped him.

It didn’t have to keep controlling him.

After a while, Giovanni glanced at Alex.

"He would’ve liked you."

Alexander raised a brow.

"He knew me."

"As a kid."

"He still knew me."

"He would’ve liked you now."

"That’s a remarkably confident statement to make beside someone else’s grave."

"My father liked practical people."

"So he would’ve adored me."

"Your humility would’ve sealed it."

Alex laughed softly.

And somehow, after all those years, that familiar sound was what finally made Giovanni feel capable of leaving.

They walked back toward the car together.

Giovanni didn’t look behind him.

There would still be proceedings. Statements might need clarification, lawyers would undoubtedly call, and Jeremy and Martin would face whatever consequences the evidence and applicable law ultimately supported.

But Giovanni no longer needed to stand over any of it personally.

He’d found the truth.

More importantly, he’d handed it over.

Matteo’s case belonged to the authorities now, while Matteo himself could finally belong to Giovanni’s memories instead of an investigation.

They were halfway to the car when Alexander suddenly said, "You still haven’t given me the list."

Giovanni looked over.

"What list?"

"The bakery equipment."

It took Giovanni a second to remember.

Then he did.

"Your mother’s."

"Yes, my mother’s. Unless you’ve secretly agreed to equip someone else’s bakery."

"I’ve been slightly occupied."

"So have I."

"Your father wasn’t murdered."

Alexander gave him a look.

"That’s an unusually effective excuse."

"I thought so."

"Fine. You get an extension."

"How generous."

"Until Thursday."

Giovanni stopped walking.

"Thursday?"

"That’s more than enough time for a preliminary list."

"I have employees who handle procurement."

"Then this should be easy."

"They don’t decide what equipment your mother needs."

"Exactly. That’s why I’m asking you."

Giovanni narrowed his eyes.

There was something faintly amusing about Alexander Vance standing in a cemetery and apparently deciding that the appropriate way to transition out of a death investigation was to discuss ovens.

Oddly enough, Giovanni appreciated it.

"I’ll send you the basics first. Oven options, mixers, proofing equipment, refrigeration. Nothing final until your mother decides what she actually wants to sell."

"That’s all I was asking for."

"No, you weren’t."

Alex looked innocent.

"What else was I asking for?"

"Free consulting."

"You’re the one who offered to help."

"I was emotionally compromised."

"That’s unfortunate. I have witnesses."

Giovanni almost smiled.

"Your parents haven’t even settled on the concept."

"They’re getting there."

"Farm bakery?"

"Maybe."

"Café?"

"Possibly."

"Bed-and-breakfast?"

"Also possible."

"So they haven’t decided anything."

"They’ve decided they want to do something."

Giovanni considered that.

It was actually enough for now.

Rosalie wanted something of her own again. After years of waiting and early retirement, Alejandro had found a reason to do more than maintain the ancestral home and hope his wife would someday return.

A bakery wasn’t merely a business idea.

It was forward movement.

"I’ll make the list," Giovanni said.

Alex nodded, satisfied.

"I knew you would."

"That’s an irritating amount of confidence in someone you’re exploiting for free."

"I’ll pay you."

"With what?"

Alex thought about it.

"A horseback ride?"

"You already used that."

"Dinner?"

Giovanni looked at him.

Alexander apparently realized the problem at the same moment.

"Wait. You owe me dinner."

"I do not."

"You absolutely do."

"Thursday?"

Giovanni unlocked the car.

"Dinner?"

"You said I still owed you."

"You do."

"For what?"

"The reunion."

"You volunteered to drive."

"Fuel isn’t free."

"You own the car."

"It still consumes fuel."

"I’ll reimburse you."

"Cheap."

Alexander looked mildly offended.

"Fine. Matteo’s?"

"No."

"Ysabella’s?"

"No."

"Then where?"

Giovanni opened the driver’s door.

"I’ll pick you up."

"That’s suspicious."

"You’ll survive."

Alex rested one hand on the passenger door but didn’t open it yet.

"Should I dress for this mystery location?"

Giovanni looked at him.

"Yes."

"That’s not helpful."

"Wear clothes."

"I generally do when leaving home."

"Then you’re prepared."

"What kind of food?"

"You’ll find out."

"Do I need a reservation?"

"I’ll handle it."

"Parking?"

"Also handled."

Alexander narrowed his eyes.

"You’re being deliberately difficult."

"And yet you’re still coming."

That stopped him for just a moment.

Giovanni hadn’t intended the words to mean anything beyond what he’d said.

At least, he didn’t think he had.

Alexander recovered first.

"Apparently, I need to make sure I get that bakery list."

"Of course."

"That’s the only reason."

"Naturally."

Neither of them sounded particularly convincing.

Alex finally opened the passenger door, but before getting in, he looked across the car’s roof.

"One question."

"What?"

"Is this business?"

Giovanni paused.

It was such a simple question that the answer should’ve been immediate.

Their dinners had started with business. Inspections, projects, logistics, meetings. There had always been a practical reason for them to sit across from one another, something that could be entered into a calendar and justified by a project number.

Then came horseback riding.

Matteo’s.

The reunion.

A cemetery.

And now apparently a bakery equipment list neither of them needed to discuss over dinner.

Somewhere along the way, they’d stopped needing a legitimate excuse.

Giovanni looked at Alexander across the roof of the car.

"No."

Something shifted almost imperceptibly in Alex’s expression.

Not quite surprise.

Interest, perhaps.

"Good," Alex said.

Then he got into the car.

Giovanni remained standing for half a second longer.

Good?

That was all?

He got behind the wheel and shut the door.

Behind them, Matteo Mercer rested beneath a grave Giovanni no longer needed to defend, investigate, or avenge. No more witnesses to find, no aliases left to unravel, and no anonymous messages still demanding an explanation.

For the first time in years, Giovanni had reached the end of his father’s story.

And perhaps that was why something as ordinary as arguing about bakery equipment, free consulting, and who owed whom dinner felt unexpectedly good.

His life had room for ordinary things again.

Giovanni started the engine.

Beside him, Alexander fastened his seat belt.

"So Thursday."

"Thursday."

"You’re still sending the equipment list before then."

Giovanni pulled away from the curb.

"I might."

"Giovanni."

"We’ll see."

"That’s business."

"Apparently Thursday isn’t."

Alexander went quiet.

Giovanni kept his eyes firmly on the road.

Then, from beside him:

"Good."

There was that word again.

And Giovanni suddenly had a much bigger problem than deciding where he was taking Alexander on Thursday.

He needed to figure out why hearing Alex say it twice had made him look forward to dinner quite so much.