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CHAPTER ONE

“HE WILL NOT ht”

The grizzled old priest had served ale of Varenna He rested his gnarled, weathered hand on the ornately carved knob of the inches-thick, dark-stained door of Giovanni Mondelli’s bedroorandchildren “Youunsaid”

His gravelly tone was soe It cut through Rocco Mondelli like a knife, severing a lifeline, rendering him incapable of speech Italian fashion icon Giovanni Mondelli, son of the Italian people, had been the father he’d never had He’d been Rocco’s guiding influence when he’d taken his grandfather’s place as CEO of House of Mondelli and brought it kicking and screa into the twenty-first century Transforlobal couture powerhouse

He could not be losing him

Rocco’s heart sputtered to a stop, then caainst the walls of his chest Giovanni was everything to hio Not yet

His sister, Alessandra, grasped his arainst the dark material of his suit “I—I don’t think I can do this,” she stuled around her face, eyes wide “It’s too sudden I have too much to say”

Rocco ignored the desire to throw himself on the floor and cry out that it wasn’t fair, like he had at age seven when he’d stood on the deck of a boat outside thison Lake Co, brown eyes trained on his papa as he tossed his mother’s ashes into the brilliant blue water Life wasn’t fair It had nothing to do with fair It had given him Alessandra, but it had taken away his beloved mother Never could that be considered a fair compromise

He turned and gripped his sister by the shoulders, breathing through the searing pain that gripped his chest “We can and ill, because we have to, sorella”

Tears strea the crevices of her stubborn mouth “I can’t, Rocco I won’t”

“You will” He pulled her into his arhts Think of what you need to say There isn’t much time”

Alessandra soaked his shirt with silent tears It had always been Rocco’s job as ether following the death of hisand drink But he did not feel up to it now He felt as though one of the breezes wafting in frole, innocent,in to weakness, into emotion, had never been an option for him

He set Alessandra away froht weight His gaze went to the short, balding doctor standing behind the priest “Is he awake?”

The doctor nodded “Go now”

His strong, souided, but always confident sister treers as he led her into Giovanni’s bedroo was true you could smell death in the air, it was not the case here He could feel the wary Giovanni Mondelli had worn like a second skin That he had infused into every single one of his designs He could hear the caustic bite of his grandfather’s laughter before it turned rich and chiding and full of wisdo to every piece of clothing he wore

It was Rocco’s eyes, however, that stripped hirandfather lost in a sea of white sheets, his vibrant olive skin devoid of color, snared his breath in his chest This was not Giovanni

He sed past the fist in his throat “Go,” he urged Alessandra, pushing her forward

Alessandra climbed onto the randfather The sight of Giovanni’s eyes watering was too much for Rocco to bear He turned aalked to theand stared out at the lake

He and Alessandra had flown the fifty kilometers from the House of Mondelli headquarters in Milan via helicopter as soon as they had heard the news But his stubborn grandfather had been ignoring pains in his chest all day, and by the tiot here, there was little the doctors could do

His randfather, he’d probably decided this was the cleanest way to go Giovanni Mondelli was not beyond o out then in a blaze of glory on the eve of Mondelli’s greatest fall line ever?

But then again, Rocco conceded, Giovanni had been ready to join his beloved wife, Rosa, in the sweet afterlife, as he called it, for almost twenty years He had lived life to the fullest, refused to fade after her passing, but there had been a part of hi breath