Colours of the Fraud by Otilija Štajn

Author:Otilija Štajn [Štajn, Otilija]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Otilija Štajn

CHAPTER 22

As Anna navigated the winding roads, I held onto a bottle of rich red wine, mesmerized by the scenery rushing past us. Sails dotted the horizon, seagulls gracefully glided above the sea, and waves crashed against the rocky coastline. The church, standing tall, provided a comforting presence amidst the ever-changing tides, its sundial casting a shadow as the sun descended behind it. A hush fell over the scene, the seagulls quieting in reverence as the sun kissed the sea, painting the waters of Slovenia’s Piran Bay with a brush dipped in crimson.

Leaving behind the peaceful olive groves and sturdy Istrian houses, we turned towards Izola.

‘I hope the navigation leads us to the house. I have no idea where it is,’ Anna took a left turn. Then confidently turned right twice. When we stopped in front of the magnificent house, the red wine was shaken as if prepared by a cocktail bartender rather than a winemaker. Anna pressed the electronic remote.

‘I think I need to press this right button?’ The tall, metal gates opened. Along the white sandy path, the car slid past olive trees, lavender, and a stone fountain towards the entrance of the house, around which a magnificent bougainvillea climbed.

Martin waved from the awning, under which his Mercedes was already parked, and Anna decisively drove between the steel pillars.

‘What can I bring you, ladies? Perhaps a homemade walnut liqueur to unwind after the drive? Or a glass of Malvasia?’ Martin greeted us warmly as we made our way towards the pool, nestled on the opposite side of the house, boasting a stunning view of the azure sea. Along the path, Martin regaled us with the history of the house. It all began with a modest old Istrian cottage purchased by his parents. From there, a tale unfolded involving a succession of esteemed architects, construction contractors, premium materials sourced from suppliers spanning Africa to India, Spanish tile merchants, and purveyors of exotic plants.

Despite finding Martin’s habit of tapping on the mahogany table on the marble terrace somewhat off-putting, I couldn’t help but entertain thoughts: Could I achieve something similar? What if the ILO acquisition goes through? Envy and disdain mingled within me, alongside admiration and contempt.

‘Do you mind that we didn’t inform you about the details of our collaboration with FinanzSchutz GmbH before Munich?’ Martin queried, picking up the red wine and stowing it in the wine cabinet concealed beneath the outdoor kitchen’s marble countertop. It did bother me that I wasn’t informed about the acquisition and the reason for our late trip to Munich. But what bothered me more was Martin’s continuous use of ‘we’ during the conversation about the acquisition after Munich. It felt as if he and Anna were a united front, as if I had already been decided upon, as if there were others involved in the deal. It left me uncertain whether I was working for ILO or against it.

‘Kabola Malvasia,’ he announced, introducing the white wine before pouring. I had always thought Malvasia was a single type of wine, but apparently, there were variations.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.