Page 47 of Enduring Caine

It wasn’t cold. It was actually fairly warm in the room. The Roman winter was practically tropical for me—compared to the bitter cold of Michigan the last few weeks—with its temperatures closer to what I would have expected in spring. I turned to look at him, about to tell him I was fine, but he widened his eyes, giving me a sign. He wanted to talk.

“Yes, you’re right, itiscool.”

Antonio put down the charcoal and placed a hand on Cesca’s shoulder. “Scusi, but I need to take Samantha—”

“No, no.” Vincenzo held the door open for me. “I can take her. We’ll only be a few moments, and Cesca’s learning so much from you. You’re as talented as Samantha told me yesterday.”

Antonio was slow to pick up the charcoal again. He looked at me, ignoring Vincenzo, as if to ask whether I was alright. He knew he could trust me, at least he kept saying he did. But the way he dropped his arm around me in the gallery said differently.

I crossed the distance to him and placed one hand on his chest and my lips on his cheek. “I love you, bello. He’s right. We’ll just be a moment.”

We walked in silence up the two flights of stairs to my room. If he needed to talk, it would have to be out of earshot of the security cameras or microphones. Sure enough, when we reached my room and I opened the door, he followed me in.

Being alone with him felt eerily familiar, but also wrong. Pins and needles pricked my fingers, reminding me of the role this man had played in my life. How happy he’d once made me. How miserable I was when he left me. How I’d never really forgiven him for what he did.

I walked all the way to the opposite wall where the terrace door was being pummeled by rain and turned to him. “I’m assuming this little act is because you need to talk to me?”

“I can’t bear to see you with that man. Do you know who he is?” He gripped me by the upper arms. “Who his family is?”

I shoved him away. “This had better not be why you pulled me up here. My relationship is none of your business.”

He came closer again and I sidestepped.

“Touch me one more time and your nose will be broken before you have time to flinch.”

His head pulled back. “I know I said it yesterday, but you really have changed.”

“Vincenzo Romano, I’m sure some vision of the girl I was the last time we saw each other is cemented in your brain, but that was almost ten years ago. I’ve been married, divorced, had more than one job, and have spent six years traveling the United States. I’ve met a lot of people—both good and bad—and I see our old relationship for what it was.”

“And what was that?”

I folded my arms, hiding the fact that I was rubbing my fingers together to get the blood flowing again. As uncomfortable as I was in my bedroom with him, it was the anger I was having a hard time controlling. And the bitterness.

But I’d moved on, and I was in love with a man who was perfect for me. Vincenzo didn’t deserve a moment of my regret. “A distraction. Temporary. Nothing more than a summer fling or a conquest that I thought was more.”

Vincenzo clasped his hands together in front of himself, turning them over, rubbing his palms, staring at them. Maybe my words stung, but sometimes the truth did. Besides, he was the one who made the fool of me, not the other way around. “Did you see any crates in the gallery?”

I blinked a few times at him. Asshole. Nothing to say about the relationship? NoIt was more than that, Sam, even just to make me feel better? Just straight on to business? And why the crates whenThe Magdalenwas there? Unless he didn’t know about her? “I saw a lot of things in the gallery, but no crates.”

“Damn.” He stopped rubbing his hands and shoved them into his pockets, clenching his jaw. “Teaching Cesca was supposed to gain me access to the gallery, but Giovanni has her so protective of her passcode that I’ve never been able to see it so I could get in on my own. They’ve even trained her to block the view from the security camera. There’s a painting being delivered that the TPC is looking for. I thought it would be here already.”

I opened my suitcase and withdrew a T-shirt and sweater. If we were up here so I could get changed, I couldn’t be wearing the same blouse when we went back downstairs, no matter how much I knew Antonio loved it on me. “I thought you said you hadn’t spoken to your handler in some time?”

“I can’t use my phone unless it’s safe for my message to be overheard.” He pulled his phone out to stare at it a moment, then shoved it back in his pocket. “It’s something they’ve been discussing for a year—since before the communications got this difficult. I’ve heard snippets of conversations about a shipment coming this week. Three crates via delivery company. If it’s what I think it is, there’s a painting in one of the crates we need to get out of here.”

“What do you mean get out of here? Isn’t your job to find information that will allow the Carabinieri to arrest Giovanni? Or make him hand over details about his associates?”

“It’s not so simple. I’m sure you understand that sometimes recovering a piece of art is more important than prosecution?”

That was the mantra of art crime squads around the world. There were certain pieces of art that you didn’t risk. “Why are you telling me this?”

He approached me again, one hand as though to grab my upper arm. When I glowered at the hand, he left it hanging in the air next to me. “Giovanni likes you. I have a feeling if you ask to go to gallery again, he’ll take you. I need you to get me the code from that door.”

“You work here, why don’t you have it?”

“I told you already. Things are difficult right now. From what I understand, Giovanni is making a lot of changes and some people don’t like that. He’s had to... let some staff go. Others, like Henri and me, who haven’t been here long are under closer scrutiny. I can take you down to the cave because it’s on the villa’s property, but they wouldn’t let me take you to town.”

The TPC needed my help. I could do good work here. And it would get back to the FBI and help make the case Elliot and I were working on, for me to become a consultant. “Do you know aboutThe Magdalen?”

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