LITMIR.BIZ

       CHAPTER ONE

      “SIGNOR MONTANARI?”

      Rini was just getting in the limo. He looked around in the direction of one of the reporters who’d followed him outside the doors of the fourteenth-century Palazzo Colonna in Rome. Dozens of them had assembled to cover the European Congress of Businessmen.

      “A moment of your time, per favore—one piece of news I can use for my lead story in La Repubblica?”

      Why not?

      “Since Italy imports almost all of its hydrocarbon demand, a doubling of domestic production would help the country reduce its energy bill. I’m planning to find them in Italy.”

      “Where?”

      “That’s my secret for now.”

      The reporter beamed for having been given a partial scoop. “Mille grazie, signor.”

      He nodded and closed the door before his driver took him to the heliport for the flight to his mountaintop villa in Positano, on the Amalfi Coast. Now that the two-day September conference covering the economic problems facing Europe was over, Rini was eager to explore his latest project. On Monday he’d be leaving for the coast of Southern Italy, but tonight he had other plans.

      Once the helicopter landed on the pad behind his villa, he jumped down and found his housekeeper, Bianca, out by the pool watering the tubs of flowers. She looked up when she saw him.

      “Welcome back.”

      “It’s good to be home.”

      “How’s your father?”

      “Well as can be expected.” Rini had flown to Naples after yesterday’s session and spent the night with his papà, who seemed to be handling the loss of Rini’s mother a little better these days. She’d been the heart of their home and Rini would always miss her happy, optimistic spirit.

      “Was the conference beneficial?”

      “I’m not sure beneficial is the right word. Chilling would be more accurate. Europe is in trouble economically, but I’d rather not think about that tonight.”

      “Do you want dinner?”

      “I’d love one of your meals, but I’m meeting Guido tonight. It’s his birthday.” His best friend from childhood, the son of Leonides Rossano, who owned Rossano shipping lines, had texted him earlier in the day:

      The parents are throwing a party for me on the yacht. Please say you can make it. I know you’re at a conference, but I need your advice about something serious. By the time you

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