gave him the leather case when he left for college. His Uncle Carlo was his father’s youngest brother. He had been married three times to women who were all half sisters. All together, they’d given birth to his seventeen children. His father thought that Carlo was a clown, because of this, but Paolo knew better. And silently, so did Raffaelo. Carlo was fierce, fearless, and loyal to the core. He was a man that Paolo, as well as his father, could always depend on.
Sitting in his oversized swivel chair with the high back, Paolo twirled back and forth as he glanced at the portraits of his family members. Looking away, his thoughts centered on Karisma. He wanted her, but he would go as slow as she needed him to. He didn’t want to frighten her with his desires so soon. He was completely taken with her. He’d be remiss not to acknowledge that she frightened him, too. After all, he had bought a whole record label to get close to her. Everything about her turned him on, but, damn, that face, that body. He shifted in his seat. She was a dream, the whole package. “It’s going to be a long day until I see her,” he mumbled.
With a sigh, he picked up the phone and dialed his father, knowing just how impatient a man Raffaelo Montovani, Sr. was. If he’d called thirty minutes ago, Paolo knew he was pushing his father’s patience to its limit.
“Ciao, Figlio,” Raffaelo said, not hiding his annoyance with his middle son.
“Ciao, Papa,” Paolo replied.
“Happy to see that you could take time out of your busy life to return your father’s call. The corporate raider forgets his roots,” Raffaelo said, switching to a voice thick with a sarcasm that only Raffaelo, Sr. could pull off.
Paolo shifted in his seat and loosened his tie, not willing to enter into an argument with his father.
“I just got in, Papa. I phoned as soon as I got your message,” he answered.
“I hear that you lunched with a movie star yesterday,” he said, “that brown skinned girl that sings so beautifully. What's her name?”
What the fuck? Paolo thought. Then he knew…his brothers. “Haa. You know who she is, Pop.”
“Remind me, Son,” his father continued.
Paolo paused, not wanting to get irritated about anything. “Karisma Montgomery.”
“Ah, yes. Karisma.” Raffaelo chuckled softly. “Is she not the young girl you vowed to meet at some point?”
“Papa, why do you ask what you already know? Plus, it was simply lunch. We are both in the music business, after all.”
“And how did you finally meet this Karisma, Paolo?”
“At Goldtone’s Grammy party,” Paolo said.
“You were not at your own Grammy party?” Raffaelo asked with an accusing tone.
“I was at both,” Paolo said. “We had lunch to discuss some things. She’s very nice.”
“Is she not as beautiful in person as she is on television?” Raffaelo asked.
“Yeah, what do you mean, Papa?”
“Well, you've been infatuated with that girl for years. Seems you would mention how beautiful she is. Is she?” Raffaelo pressed.
“Yes, she is,” he conceded. There would be no other way to move on.
“Just remember your commitments at home, here in Italy. After all, you stayed in California after school just to make your way, leaving your family and fidanzata behind…taking your brothers with you,” his father said.
“That guilt trip is getting old, Papa.” And why’d he always feel the need to bring up that woman he was engaged to?
“Maybe, Paolo, but it’s true, yes?”
“There are opportunities here that wouldn’t come my way in Italy,” Paolo said.
“Like buying a record company just to impress someone you didn’t know,” his father replied. He was using cautionary words, reminding Paolo of what his focus should be. Clearly he didn’t think it was Karisma Montgomery.
“That’s enough,” Paolo cautioned.
“So, was she what you’ve imagined?” he asked.
“She’s a lovely girl, Pop. If
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