Page 86 of The Thief

I’m positive I’ve never seen him before, yet he somehow seems familiar. One of Antonio’s men, maybe? By now, I know the people guarding me, but maybe Leo put someone new on my detail?

Frowning, I look for him again, but he’s nowhere to be seen. Antonio’s done with his phone call, and he’s already got our bags. I consider mentioning him to Antonio, but what am I going to say, that somebody was looking at me? I’m just being paranoid. “Okay, how did you arrange for our bags to show up quickly? You can’t have bribed all the baggage handlers.”

He laughs. “I can’t tell you all my secrets, cara mia.”

We head toward the exit, where theInvictuswaits for us. As soon as the boat gets underway, Antonio opens a bottle of chilled prosecco and pours it into two flutes. “Our first successful heist,” he says with a cheerful smile. “Here’s to many more.”

I clink my glass against his. We stand on deck and watch the island come into view. The domes and bell towers rise like something out of a dream, their outlines shimmering in the mist.

I’m home again, and I’m with Antonio. After a decade of feeling unsettled, I finally feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. All is right in the world.

But later that evening, when I check my voicemail, I find a message from Rocco Cacciola.

“I’m so sorry for the delay, Lucia,” he says. “I’ve been away sick, and the hiring process ground to a halt in my absence. But the committee has finally reviewed your application, and everyone likes what they see. We’d like to invite you to Florence to formally interview for the job.”

44

ANTONIO

“Are you going to the gala?”

It’s the Monday after we got back from Hungary, and Lucia and I are in my home. It’s late. Agnese is gone for the evening, so it’s just the two of us. It’s cold outside, but in my living room, the drapes are drawn, and the fireplace is lit, filling the room with warmth and softly flickering light.

Lucia is lying on my lap and watching something on TV. I should be paying attention—God knows it took us long enough to agree on what we wanted to watch—but I’m mostly looking at her.

“What gala?” I ask, playing with her hair.

“The Palazzo Ducale annual donor gala,” she replies. “I was in the break room today getting a cup of coffee, and Signora Sabatino tracked me down there to ask if I was going.” She sounds mildly disgruntled. “She doesn’t really care about whether I’m there—this is about you. She wants me to bring you.”

Every year, the museum hosts a glittering reception for its donors. They ply us with food and drink, and while they have us hostage, pitch us about all the great work they could be doing if we only gave them more money. I don’t usually go; I don’t need the hard sell to write them a check.

“Did she actually tell you that?”

Signora Sabatino has also offered Lucia a full-time job if she somehow convinces me to give the museum more money. I’d do it in a heartbeat if that’s what it takes to keep my little thief in Venice, but I don’t think it’ll work. Lucia doesn’t love working at the Palazzo Ducale, and I don’t think she sees a long-term future there.

“She didn’t say it outright, but she strongly hinted.”

“And what do you think? Do you want me to go with you?”

She avoids my gaze. “It’s a security risk,” she says. “Leo wouldn’t like it.”

She’s right; Leo’s not going to like it. But the real danger isn’t to me. The gala is a big, glittering affair, and everyone who was anyone in Venice will be there. Not to mention all her colleagues. If I accompany Lucia, she’s instantly going to become the object of attention. Everyone will want to know everything about the woman who’s dating Antonio Moretti.

I might as well paint a giant target on her back.

And yet. . .

“Leo’s not in charge. I am.” I give her a teasing look. “You want me to go to the gala with you. Is Lucia Petrucci asking me out on a date?”

She huffs exasperatedly. “Don’t sound so smug. I just don’t fancy the idea of dancing with Nicolo Garzolo. Or, heaven forbid, Felix Mayer.”

“You want to be seen in public with me,” I continue, ignoring her words. “You want the world to know I am besotted.” I pretend to consider her request. “I’m just saying, when I ask you out on a date, I send flowers. But that’s okay, Lucia. Baby steps.”

She snorts. “Besotted. I wish.”

I laugh and kiss her palm. “But Iambesotted, cara mia. And I want the world to know. Do you need a dress?”

“No.” She twists around and fixes me with a glare. “Do not buy me a dress, Antonio. I’m dead serious. I’ll take care of it.”

---