Page 20 of Disarming Caine

“Like the retired bus driver that stole that Duke of Wellington painting?”

I grinned at her. “Well done, my young padawan.”

Her eyes lowered under the compliment and she turned to look through the tall front windows of Ferraro’s. Her gaze snapped back to me immediately and she popped a gum bubble. “Who. Is that?”

I leaned forward to see around her. Sofia, Antonio’s older sister, sat behind her giant desk, talking to a slender man in a blue suit. Lucy’s head swiveled to the office and returned to me again. I recognized her look. It was the same one she gave Antonio and Nathan every time she saw them. “That’s Antonio’s younger brother, Lorenzo.”

“Tell me he’s single?”

I’d only met him once, at an ill-fated dinner at Antonio’s parents’ house. He was a copy of his older brother in many ways; handsome, with killer cheekbones, tousled dark hair, and a flirtatious streak. Not quite a clone, though. He was a couple inches shorter, twenty or thirty pounds lighter, and had a smile that was slightly less dazzling. Although I may have been biased.

Without waiting for a response, Lucy hefted open the door and slid out. I snatchedNumber Vee’s case from the back seat and hustled to catch up to her. The police had released it much faster than I’d expected. No leads about the shooting, though, so I’d scheduled time tomorrow with Foster’s top investigators to talk it over.

As we stepped into the studio, I inhaled deeply, centering myself in the room. The scents and sounds were the same as always—spicy irises and Vivaldi—and Sofia stood from her chair.

“Samantha! Lucy!” She wore a tight cobalt blue dress, accentuating her impressive curves. Her full black hair danced around her face, like she was walking down a runway. With kisses to each of our cheeks, she put her hands to her hips, feigning a glare. “You didn’t tell me Lucy was coming with you.”

Before I could respond, Lucy stepped around Sofia and threw out her hand toward Lorenzo. “Hi. I’m Lucy Chapman, Sam’s best friend.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He smiled warmly at her, shook her hand slowly, then nodded to me. “Samantha, it’s been too long.”

“Is that my Samantha?” boomed Dominico’s voice as he rounded the reception wall, which divided the entry space from the large studio behind. Antonio’s father was my height, with salt-and-pepper hair, deep olive skin, and the broadest smile of anyone I’d ever met. He elbowed his way past Lorenzo to get to me. As he grabbed me by the shoulders, I offered my cheeks and he made exaggerated kissing noises before grabbing my free hand.

Since Antonio had left, I’d been to Ferraro’s once for a painting and a few times to visit Sofia. And Dominico had called me ‘my Samantha’ every time.

“Dr. Dominico, this is—”

“I told you already. It’s Dom.” He patted my held hand, turning his smile to Lucy. “Now, who’s this vision?”

I nudged Lucy, who was chatting with Lorenzo. “This is Lucy Chapman, a friend of mine.”

Dom inserted himself between Lucy and his son, taking her by the shoulders to kiss more air than he had with me. Keeping a grip on her and retrieving my hand, he shook his head slowly. “So much beauty in one room. How can I survive this day?”

“Papa, if you’ll excuse us.” Lorenzo’s accent was as thick as Antonio’s. Dom had moved the family from Brenton to Rome when Antonio was five, so the boys grew up with Italian as their primary language. “Lucy was going to tell me about her last trip to Roma.”

Lucy beamed and they drifted to the reception couches. That girl worked fast. He’d better be single and not just flirting with her or we’d have words. And then some.

I slipped my hand from Dom’s and put the case on the top tier of Sofia’s desk. “We’re just here to drop off this painting, then we’ll be out of your hair.”

Dom patted my back gently. “Let’s take it to my workspace. I can look at it now.”

“That’s alright. I can leave it with Sofia. I imagine you’re very busy with Antonio away.”

“Have you heard his news?” asked Sofia absently, returning to her position behind the desk. Her focus was on Lucy and Lorenzo, a glimmer of mischief in her smirk.

“That the project’s been extended into April? Yeah, he told me Saturday night.”

“Right.” She shook her head quickly before turning to me, like she’d forgotten what she was doing. “I’m glad he told you. He was upset.”

“I don’t understand why. It’s fantastic news!” Dom took the case from the desk and headed around the reception wall to the studio. “Come with me, my love.”

I eyed Sofia, but she avoided my gaze. Intentionally. It was clearly intentional. A prickling sensation traveled up my fingers, accompanying the knot twisting in my stomach. What was she hiding from me? “Sofia?”

“Papa’s waiting for you.” She shooed me away and sat behind her desk.

I gave her a moment more, but she was very good at ignoring me. Work or personal—what was my priority? Work, it had to be work. I turned slowly, rubbing my fingers together to get the blood flowing, and followed Dom.

As I entered the studio area, I saw three familiar faces. Alice, the blond restorer; Frank, Antonio’s cousin and Alice’s boyfriend; and Zander, the heavy metal fanatic with his oversized headphones. Alice and Frank sat at ten-foot long white tables, open underneath where they stored many tools of their trade. She wore a headband with a magnification visor over her eyes, studying something on a small painting at her table. He was rolling a handmade swab across a large painting on his desk. Zander sat at an easel in the back of the room, with the morning sun shining in on him from the windows behind.

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