Page 83 of Take Me Under

Zeke leaned against the table and crossed his arms. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. Now that I’ve seen it, I find myself seeing it everywhere. Graffiti in back alleys. Carved into old stone near the Roman Forum.”

“It was also in her father’s research notes—in the journal I took from the motel room.”

“Do you still have it?” he asked.

“I do, but it’s back in New York. I’d meant to bring it with me so that I could return it to Serena, but I forgot it.”

“The symbol is in too many places for me to think this isn’t all connected somehow. Also, your instinct about arsenic is most likely correct. I had a medical examiner in the States look over Carlo Martinelli’s records. While they couldn’t say for sure without an autopsy, every sign points to arsenic poisoning.”

I exhaled slowly.

“So he was murdered?”

“It’s a theory. Could be that Serena’s father, in all his digging into the past, stumbled onto something he shouldn’t have.”

I met Zeke’s gaze. “And what about Cade? Do you think he had something to do with it?”

Zeke shrugged. “I’m still waiting on the background report for him. But I think it’s suspicious as hell that Serena’s father was most likely poisoned and her ex-boyfriend is literally branded with the symbol that was found in her motel and her father’s research notes. Too much doesn’t make sense. At least not yet. I still have more digging to do.”

“I need to tell Serena about the break in. I should ask her about the symbol, too.” I sighed and turned away, dragging a hand through my hair. I didn’t know how to tell her about my suspicions, or why I’d kept all of this from her in the first place. The theories seemed so outlandish. Even worse was adding Cade to the mix. I didn’t know how he fit in either.

I scowled just thinking about him.

What else does she know about him that she hasn’t told me?

Zeke studied me. “You’re pissed.”

I shot him a look and began to pace the room.

“Pissed is not the right word for it. I’m frustrated. I wanted answers, but this only created more questions. I don’t know how to approach Serena about it. I don’t want to stress her if this turns out to be all one big coincidence. But if it’s not, I don’t want to get her involved in something potentially dangerous.”

I stopped pacing and looked at Zeke. His expression was grim.

“Boss, I hate to break it to you, but I think she’s already in the thick of it.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Anton

Afew hours later, Serena and I sat in the backseat of the Maserati as it passed through a break in the stone wall surrounding Lucca. The hum of the engine could barely be heard, a Rolling Stones song playing on the radio and drowning the outside noises as Zeke guided us onto the open road.

I settled deeper into the seat, stretching my legs out in front of me while Serena curled hers beneath her. Her body was angled slightly toward the window as she absently scrolled through her phone. I watched her, studying the little things—the way her lips pressed together when she was concentrating, and the subtle crease that formed between her brows when she was trying to understand. It had been four weeks since our chance meeting in front of the Met, and since then, it had felt as if my sole purpose in life was to memorize these little details about her.

She was completely absorbed in whatever she was reading,unaware of my scrutiny. My gaze drifted lower, tracing the curve of her bare thigh and the way the fabric of her sundress slid up just enough to tease me. A slow heat coiled in my gut, but I tamped it down. We had a long drive ahead of us.

Zeke remained silent behind the wheel, his eyes locked on the road as the countryside blurred past. I turned my attention out the window, and before long, my thoughts drifted to a place I didn’t want them to go—the end date for my thirty-day arrangement with Serena.

I hadn’t expected to feel this way about her—to want more. More time. More of her.

I knew how this was supposed to go. I had set the terms and drawn the boundaries. But Serena had blurred them from the beginning, slipping through the cracks of my control like sand through my fingers.

And I had let her.

The problem was, she knew very little about me. I’d made sure of that. I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to think logically. It would have been so much easier if I’d kept it all about the Brutus Denarius. Chasing the coin was a challenge I understood. But then I’d laid eyes on Serena, an Italian princess, and all thoughts of hunting down a coin had disappeared.

From that point on, my orderly life had flipped on its axis. I didn’t understand, nor could I predict, what would happen with the woman who sat beside me. I wanted her more than I ever wanted another woman. Yet there were still so many questions that I had no answers to—her father’s death, the motel, the symbol Zeke had uncovered, and how Serena tied into it all.

Serena shifted beside me, drawing my attention back to her. She must have sensed me watching because she glanced up, her head angling inquisitively.

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