Page 14 of Disarming Caine

“She must be furious with me.” I put the phone face down on the bench and stared at my promise ring, remembering the words we said. We vowed to trust each other and to wait until I was home before making any decisions. Bile rose from my stomach, but it was beyond empty, other than water. “I can’t believe I forbid her from seeing Miller. What kind of stupid—”

“Drunk and jealous, not stupid.” He put the phone back in my hand. “Call her. You and your sad face are bringing everyone down. We’ll never finish today unless you’re helping, and we won’t let you go to the airport until we’re done.”

I chuckled, looking at my team wrapping up our work on the Cupid wall. The three walls of the room were remarkably well-preserved excavations from Regio V in the ancient city. One wall focused on Mars—the Roman god of war, who the house was named for—and Venus, one on Cupid at the hunt, and my favorite wall, with Perseus presenting the head of Medusa to Minerva.

If I accomplished nothing else in my life, the work we did here would be my legacy—one I was proud of.

“Thank you, Mario. I think the pills are finally kicking in.” I stood, walking away from the group, out from underneath the temporary structure overhead. As I reached the center of the open garden area, the sun beamed like a laser directly into my skull. The frescoes on these walls would hold Samantha and me apart longer than expected, but we’d make the best of it.

I let out a long breath and steeled myself. She was not with Miller. She was waiting for me, just as we’d agreed.

When she appeared on the screen, my heart leapt into my throat. There was no fury, but her smile was more tempered than usual. Her luxurious hair was tied back, still wet. And she was in her hotel again.

“Ciao, bella.”

Her eyes moved past me. “You’re at the Casa?”

“Before I say anything else, Samantha, I want to apologize.”

“You don’t need—”

“Sì, I do. I wasverydrunk last night, upset, and I said things I shouldn’t have. You’re right. Nathan Miller has been your friend for a long time, and I trust you.” It washimI didn’t trust. “It’s not my place to choose your friends.”

Her face softened, the smile reaching her eyes. “Thanks.”

Mario was right. An apology was the best start.

“And I’m sorry I didn’t return your calls earlier.” I swiveled the phone to show the team and returned focus to me. “Sometimes I work odd hours, as well. I’ll be here almost all day.”

Her eyes fell. “No time to talk, I understand.”

“Mi scusi, bella. That was not a dig.”

Lips tight, she looked up again. Those furtive glances meant so much from her, and when I was sober, I understood it. She felt bad for pushing me off yesterday, and there was something else weighing on her.

“But this is the only time I can talk today. I have a few minutes, if you can chat?”

“How are you feeling? You werereallydrunk last night.”

I removed my sunglasses. Another wave of nausea pulsed through me and I swallowed hard.

She gasped. “You look terrible! Your eyes are so bloodshot!”

“You should have seen me this morning.” I gave an exaggerated shudder and she laughed. “Mario took over the taskmaster duties and it’s been rough. Fortunately, I’m not the only one. Thomas is also quite hung over. What about you? Any news?”

“I was just checking my email.” She shrugged one shoulder. “Two more offers.”

“You’re a popular woman.”

“You know how small the art world can be. A gallery in Boston wants me to review their insurance policies, which I may do, because that’s just a short contract. I could do it mostly online and take one or two day trips. And an art specialty carrier based in New York wants me to interview.”

“New York?”

She continued speaking past that point, signaling she was not giving it any thought. “And I got a long email from Elliot.”

Samantha had interned for Special Agent Elliot Skinner with the FBI Art Crimes Team straight out of college. He’d shown up in Napoli when she was visiting me in September, working with the Carabinieri TPC—the Italian art crimes squad—to investigate a theft from my Casa di Marte.

He was still pursuing her professionally, asking her to return to the FBI. Indeed, my girlfriend wasverypopular in certain circles.

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