Page 4 of The Eagle's Vault

But first, I had to get my own vault open.

Chapter 2

Leigh

Myexcitementgrewwitheach step across the rough cobblestones under my feet. I craned my neck, peering up at the sun-bleached stucco exterior of Edoardo Caetani’s villa. Roses hugged the side of the building, their fragrance vying for control over my brother’s cologne. An ivy-encrusted balcony garden hung off the second floor, lush and inviting.

Isaac, with his perpetual focus on business, hardly noticed. His fingers flew over his phone, brow furrowed.

“Everything okay?”

“Just a schedule change.” He didn’t even look up, as though the Eternal City was nothing more than another back alley in Boston. “My meetings start in two days, not tomorrow.”

Free time? “That means we could visit the Forum, right? It’s only a half-hour walk from here.”

He shrugged. “Depends on how quickly we can fix Edoardo’s safe.”

A rush of annoyance washed over me. We? If he could’ve done this repair, I’d still be at home.

Safe-designing wasn’t about speed, it was about precision, perfection. I made art, not sloppy patch work. I glanced at the imposing door of the villa. Inside, my masterpiece awaited. I hadn’t even seen it, other than in the photos Isaac sent after he and Ben installed it.

“I don’t rush jobs.” I squared my shoulders, while his focus remained on the phone.But maybe this one time, I would. Then I could see Rome.

Isaac stuffed his phone into his messenger bag and knocked on the heavy wooden doors. “That’s why you’re here, sis. Quality work.”

A staff woman, prim and efficient, let us in and guided us through hallways crammed with books and huge paintings. Old furniture lined the walls, and several tapestries dotted the various rooms we passed.

I slowed at each open doorway, peering around the old world charm. It was like a house out of a movie, with soaring ceilings and fireplaces in every room. Tall windows without screens were open, letting in the scent of the garden below. How was I going to work in here? All I wanted to do was stare.

When we arrived at the library, my head spun. The room was straight out of a dream. A towering, two-story collection of shelves, stacked with volumes of every size and color. What would the topics be? Were they old encyclopedias? Treatises on the history of Italy? Maybe storybooks with ancient legends and myths?

Dark wood paneling reached up to a coffered ceiling, and an indoor balcony stretched around the second level, offering a dizzying view and hundreds more tomes.

“Don’t get too distracted, Leigh.” Isaac nudged me, snapping my attention back to the job. “Remember, we’re here to fix a safe, not geek out on ancient literature.”

Another flush of irritation.

Isaac never understood my love for art, history, or even reading. When I was little, he called me bug—his short-form for bookworm. I let his words slide off me like usual. It was part of our routine.

“Ah, Isaac Barton! Buongiorno!” A man—Edoardo Caetani, based on the pictures Isaac showed me from the Caetani company’s website—stood from a desk and approached us. He had a broad smile, a thick Italian accent, and a layer of stress that undercut his tone. The break-in must have rattled him.

“Good to see you again.” Isaac extended a hand to shake.

“And you.” Edoardo clapped Isaac on the shoulder, then turned to face me. “And this is your new assistant?”

We worked for a family company that specialized in locks, safes, and vaults. Not just any locksmiths, but artists. None of us could be called assistants, unless Dad was the one we were working with.

“This is my sister, Leigh.” Isaac gestured to me. “She’s filling in for Ben today.”

Filling in? For my little brother?Iwas the designer. The brain behind the brilliant safe hidden in this beautiful room.

A knot twisted in my stomach. This wasn’t my usual job. I engineered safes, vaults, and other protective housings for special items. But site visits? This was unfamiliar territory. Isaac and one of our brothers, Ben, usually handled installs and conferences. Now, standing in this room, surrounded by opulence and history?

Maybe I’d made the wrong decision when I asked to stay in my workshop in the past. Part of me wanted to skulk back home, but I’d fantasized about coming to Rome since I was a kid, and I wasn’t about to skip out on this opportunity. Plus, I had bigger plans for this trip.

“Mr. Caetani,” I said, extending a hand. “My name’s Leigh Barton. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m sure we’ll have your safe repaired in no time.”

“I’m fortunate you were both able to come so quickly.” Edoardo took me by the shoulders and kissed the air at each of my cheeks.

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