Page 80 of A Fine Line

By the time we land at the private airstrip Lilith secured for us, my stomach is in knots. There are two cars waiting for us, and Agatha walks over to the man standing in front of one of them and takes something from him before coming back to where Lilith and I are standing.

“Are you ready for this?” she asks quietly, holding her hand out to me, a keyring dangling from her fingertips.

I take the key from her and reply, “I’m ready.”

She gives me a short nod, then spins on her heel, and walks over to the other vehicle, getting in the back. I turn to Lilith, who’s looking me over, but she says nothing and then follows Agatha, disappearing into the vehicle, leaving me there to figure it out.

The GPS of the car is already set for an office building in the middle of Rome. There’s a slight chance that the people who keep trying to catch me will make a move before I reach my destination, but we have contingency plans for all likely scenarios.

Of course, Lilith had us fly into a private airstrip outside of the city, so my drive into Rome takes a little longer than anticipated. As much as I enjoy the Italian countryside and Italian drivers, the anticipatory nerves are excruciating. By the time I get to my destination, I’m a sweating, anxious mess, and as I search for a parking spot, I work on getting my shit together.

Once I’ve moved through the lobby, I get in the elevator and head to the correct floor, finally starting to feel a little better, but the sense of dread of walking into the unknown still hangs over me.

I exit the elevator and step out into reception, walking over to the desk and giving the woman my name. She motions for me to go in, and I don’t bother dragging my feet. I march over there, pull the heavy glass door open, and walk into the room with my head held high, having no idea who I’m going to see on the other side.

I strut over and stand in front of the giant hardwood desk in the middle of the room. The chair is turned away from me, so I can’t see who is seated there, not that I expect I’ll recognize him anyway, since as far as I know, he’s just a man Lilith believes will most likely be able to fix my problem.

I clear my throat, shuffling from one foot to the other as I wait for the chair to turn, and when it doesn’t, I say, “Hello? Am I in the right place?”

The chair slowly swivels, and an older man looks at me with an amused expression on his face. He’s probably in his fifties, his dark hair graying some at the temples, the fine lines on his face just starting to deepen.

His lips curve up in a smile, and he cocks his head at me in acknowledgment and then says, “Yes, Carolina Petrov. You’ve come to the right place.”

I glare at him and snark, “Don’t fucking call me that. That is not my name.”

His smile broadens, and he laughs, “So, I see the rumors are true.”

“Rumors?”

“There’s been some chatter about the ever-accommodating wife of Vincent Petrov suddenly becoming a lot less…accommodating.”

“How could anyone possibly know that? It happened like two days ago, thousands of miles from here, and all the witnesses are dead.”

His shoulders rise, and his hands come up to flutter in the air dismissively. “In our world, there’s no such thing as secrets. There’s always someone around to tell the story; it’s whether the story is accurate by the time it gets to me, which, apparently, this one is.”

I say nothing. I just stare at him blandly until, finally, he motions to the chair beside me. I shake my head. “I’ll stand.”

“Stubborn, too, I see,” he says good-naturedly. “I shouldn’t be surprised if you’re hanging out with the likes of Lilith.”

“So, you know Lilith well, then?”

The humor falls from his face, and his lips twist as he replies, “You could say that.”

I wait a few moments to see if he’s going to elaborate, and when he doesn’t, I ask, “Do you think you’re gonna be able to help make all this shit stop, or was this a wasted journey for a pointless conversation?”

If he’s offended by my words, he doesn’t let on. “The best thing you can do in your current predicament is to take the estate and affairs of your late husband off the table. No one wants you in particular; they want what you hold.”

“Can I just give it away?”

He shakes his head and leans back in his chair, leveling me with a serious look. “The only way out of this kind of obligation is death.”

“You’re saying if I die, it’ll end?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “It would end for you. But not for your daughter.”

My stomach drops at his words, and I whisper, “How do we save her?”

“Marry someone more powerful and scary than the people you’re going up against,” he says seriously, then he looks me up and down before continuing, “You’re attractive enough, so I don’t think it would be a difficult sell. There are certainly enough powerful and scary people out there who wouldn’t mind taking you on. I would do it myself, but you seem a little young, and I don’t need that kind of aggravation or gossip.”

---