Page 82 of Take Me Under

She exhaled, and when she spoke again, she sounded frustrated. “I know. It’s been a long morning. I’m calling to letyou know that the dig permits have been delayed. We won’t be able to resume work in Rome for another two weeks.”

That caught my attention. Two more weeks in Lucca meant another two weeks with a curfew. That would never do. I was too old for this shit, and I’d been patient long enough.

“Why so long?” I asked, already thinking about putting Zeke on the problem. Perhaps he could find a way to speed things along. Money talks, and I wasn’t opposed to greasing a few palms if it meant getting Serena all to myself.

“Italian bureaucracy.” She sighed. “But at least my team will be heading back to the lab on Monday to process some of the more recent findings.”

I tapped my fingers against the desk, considering this new information. “And what about you?”

“I’ll still be here in Lucca for a little longer. I want to finish this piece for the gallery before going back to Rome,” she said. “But I wanted to ask you something. My best friend, Caterina, will be in Florence for the weekend. She recently took a job in London, so we don’t get to see each other very often. When she comes back to Italy to visit her parents, we try to meet up at a place called La Terrazza, our favorite rooftop bar. I was thinking…maybe the two of us can drive to Florence this evening and meet her for dinner? What do you think?”

I smiled to myself, already seeing this as an opportunity to seize control.

“I’d love to,” I said, mentally formulating a plan. “Florence is what? About an hour and a half drive? Let’s spend the night.”

She hesitated for only a moment before seeming to catch on.

“Ahhh, yes. We should absolutely spend the night. I mean, we’ll probably have a few drinks afterall. We wouldn’t want to drink and drive. And I just thought of something else,” she added. “I think you also need to see the Uffizi Gallery, the Duomo, Piazza della Signoria. There’s also the Galleriadell'Accademia. Oh, dear. We might have to spend the wholeweekendin Florence.”

I smiled at her playful tone. This was Serena’s way to respectfully escape her watchful, church-going mother.

And I was here for it.

“Dinner tonight with Caterina it is. But after that, I want you all to myself. And Serena,” I added, pausing for effect. “I really hope you don’t plan on visiting any of the places you just named. I have other plans in mind—no dress code required.”

“Noted. I’ll pack light, Mr. Romano.”

Fuck me.

I nearly groaned at the way my name sounded on her lips. I had wanted uninterrupted time, and now I had it. Tonight couldn’t come soon enough.

After the call ended, I shifted my attention back to the computer to book the hotel stay. I wanted somewhere discreet and intimate, luxury without the flash. A large bed was non-negotiable, but that was hard to come by in Italy. I could never understand Europe’s aversion to king-sized beds.

A sharp knock on my hotel room door pulled me from my search. I pushed back from my desk, rolling my shoulders before making my way over. Most likely, it was Zeke. He’d been hard at work doing the research that I’d asked him to do, and I was hoping he finally had some answers for me.

When I opened the door, Zeke stood on the other side with a black folder in his hand. He almost always looked serious, but right then, his somber expression was enough to set my nerves on edge.

“What is it?” I asked, stepping aside so he could come in.

“I got in touch with Hale Fulton like you asked. He found a little more on Serena’s father’s death. The information was limited, so he put me in touch with a contact he has here in Italy. The local guy got me pictures, archived records, and some other info. There’s a lot to go over. Let’s sit down.”

He let out a short breath and set the folder on the small table near the window. Opening it, he pulled out a photograph.

I glanced down at it. A man I didn’t recognize stared back at me—mid-thirties, dark hair, sharp jawline, attractive. I didn’t know why, but the image of him pissed me off immediately.

I frowned. “Who the hell is this?”

“This is Cade Rosenberg, Serena’s ex-fiancé.”

My jaw tightened as I stared at the photo. Something in my gut twisted. Just the image of him sparked a jealousy so foreign, my hands curled into fists. I hated knowing there was a time when he had touched her—kissed her—or that she might have looked at him the way she sometimes looked at me.

Taking a calming breath, I kept my voice level and asked, “What did you find out about him?”

“Look at the back of his neck,” Zeke said as he flipped through more pictures to reveal a close-up image beneath the original.

It was a tattoo—a symbol that I recognized. The first time I’d seen the twisting shape, it had been spraypainted on the back of Serena’s motel room door in New York. However, I hadn’t realized what it was at the time. I had also seen the symbol scrawled in the margins of Serena’s father’s leather journal. While I hadn’t made the connection to the haphazard paint job at the motel, seeing it now in tattoo form made the link more obvious.

I looked at Zeke, my jaw tight. “What is this symbol?”

---