I'm Lorenzo de Luca (nearruin) wrote in light_of_may, @ 2012-08-09 12:26:00 |
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Entry tags: | 2009-09-14, gwyneth, lorenzo |
Here's a quarter, call someone who cares
Who: Lorenzo & Gwyneth
Where: Hathaway House
When: Sunset. How poetic.
The nauseating fact of the matter was that Lorenzo had been reduced to asking Gwyneth Hathaway-Fournier-de Luca for help. And, yes, her full name was necessary. To remind the whole world that not only was she not truly a de Luca, but also that she was someone's sloppy seconds that his father had decided to bring home in a doggy bag anyway. Lorenzo himself didn't need the reminder. He knew exactly who she was. A cheap, American gold-digger that killed his father and effectively ruined both his and Giada's lives. Which reminded him. Giada. He wondered what she was doing on this side of the Atlantic. He'd let her know he was coming to the United States and given her details on how she could get in contact with him if she wanted to. If she didn't, then Lorenzo could hardly fault her. It wasn't as if he'd really been in contact with her while he was in Rome, anyway. And if she was up to something, he wasn't going to get in her way. Unless her plans involved Gwyneth. In which case he figured they'd eventually cross paths. As the taxi slowed to a stop, Lorenzo fixed his cufflinks and looked at the house - no, he would not deign to call it a mansion - and stepped out of the vehicle. It was muggy from rain earlier that day and the humidity was somewhat reminiscent of home. He made a face as the taxi driver callously placed his designer luggage on the disgusting curb. Stuffing some American bills into the man's hand, he waved him off. There was no need for his stepmother to know he couldn't afford a proper car service. He knocked the bottom of his rolling luggage with a foot to tilt it and started wheeling his way up to the front door.
He paused to remind himself that he was here to make sure Gwyneth's shares of De Luca Technologies were intact and figure out how her shares would be distributed at her death. If they weren't going to him, he would need to make sure that they did. Inheritance laws insisted that her 'children' receive her estate unless she had somehow made sure they passed to one of her siblings. With that in mind, Lorenzo reminded himself to be on his best behavior. Don't call her a whore to her face, Lorenzo told himself. He was sure the word had been used at least a couple of times in their last conversation. Along with the words 'gold digger,' 'murderer,' and a couple of Italian slurs that made even the investigators present blush. They hadn't really seen each other since Lorenzo left the mansion and hadn't spoken since the day she showed up alive when his father had not survived. There was no forgiving that. Pressing the door bell, Lorenzo let out a sharp breath of air as pain jolted through him. That happened on occasion. He'd learned to ignore it for the most part. Sometimes, though, it wasn't as easy to forget. Like when he'd nearly choked to death in his sleep on the plane. As the door opened to admit him, he plastered his most winning smile on his face. Focus on her redeeming features, Lorenzo. Like...like...her cleavage.