Page 62 of The Eagle's Vault

Giovanni started again. “There are myths about a Pope.”

Leonardo added, “Leo X.”

Giovanni nodded. “He received an ancient artifact and commissioned Leonardo da Vinci to build a special vault deep within the catacombs to hide it.”

“I was thinking about that,” said Leigh. “But the catacombs were only rediscovered in the late sixteenth century. Da Vinci died long before that.”

“And you believe every story you hear?” Giovanni pointed at her, and she shook her head. “The Church has been known to keep secrets, and this was one of them.”

“Of course,” Leigh whispered, her eyes widening. “So what do they think is inside?”

“The eagle standard of the lost Roman legion.”

Leigh gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. I turned to her, not understanding the significance. But there was that light again, the one that flickered in her eyes when we faked our way through the Cassaforte vault. It was a snapshot of her passion, her curiosity. It was magnetic.

My mind flipped back to the car, the feeling of her lips against my cheek. It had been horribly chaste, that kiss. And in that moment, I wanted more. So much more.

Like when I’d kissed her temple in the van yesterday morning.

Jesus, these were the stupidest thoughts to be having right now. If Scarlett knew what was going through my head, she’d smack me for it.

Giovanni’s eyes landed on Scarlett, a faint smile curving his lips. “I appreciate you coming to me, Ms. Reynolds. It reflects well on the character your family is known for.”

Did he know Scarlett’s mother? Or her father?

“But we must discuss a repayment for this slight.” Giovanni’s tone grew business-like. Simple and straightforward, none of the earlier menace present.

Cristian slid the thumb drive back across the table to me, his gaze heavy and cold. “We find ourselves in competition to crack that vault, and our resident expert in ancient frescoes and architecture is missing. So, we expect your assistance.”

Inside, I was jumping around like a giddy schoolboy.

From the moment I’d heard about the vault in the catacombs, I’d wanted to get my hands on it. But on the outside, I was cool, offering a casual nod as if he’d asked me to help change a tire. “I’ll do whatever Scarlett agrees to, but you don’t need Leigh. As I said, she’s learning and isn’t qualified for this job.”

Giovanni nodded, beckoning one goon over. “Escort Mr. Ramsay and Ms. Barton to the gardens, would you? I have some details to negotiate with Ms. Reynolds.”

Chapter 24

Leigh

DeclanandIstrolleddown a pebbled garden path, the gentle sea breeze ruffling red and white flowers around us. Our shoes crunched against the gravel, mingling with the breeze, piercing the hush of the sprawling garden. The squared hedges, round bushes, and meticulously edged flowerbeds were like a postcard.

Over the top of the garden wall, the Mediterranean spread out in a vista of sapphire, teal, and turquoise. And at the center of the garden, the most breathtaking sight—a stone angel, ten feet tall, reaching toward the heavens with a lyre clutched in her hand. Water cascaded down from her fingers, each drop shimmering in the warm Italian sunlight.

“Amazing view, isn’t it?” Declan’s voice cut through my thoughts, his easy grin aimed at the sea.

“Yeah.” My gaze was still on the fountain. It was breathtaking, all of it. How could it be so beautiful when the owner was a smuggler? Why did bad people have the corner on such beauty? Why did a man like Giovanni Ferraro effectively own that da Vinci vault hidden deep in the catacombs?

And why did Declan say I wasn’t qualified?

Declan came closer, so close I felt the shift in the wind as he blocked it. “Something on your mind?”

His words from earlier bounced around in my head. Not talented enough. Like Isaac saying he didn’t need me at a trade show because I was too quiet. Or Finn making fun of my books. Like a blow, each time they crossed my mind. Never enough.

“When you said I wasn’t qualified, what did you mean?”

His brows winged up, face a mixture of shock and confusion tinged with something else. Something tender. Regret? He sighed, staring out at the sea again. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“But that’s exactly what you said.” I stepped in front of him, forcing his attention to me. Our eyes locked, flecks of gold dancing in his hazel depths. “Why would you say it if you didn’t mean it?”

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