Page 65 of The Crimson Lily
“Okay,” I simply acknowledge. I am too skeptical to be curious. I’ll just go with it.
“Does 10:00 work for you?”
“Yes,” I say with no particular tone.
Doctor Rossi gives me an address I can’t decipher, but withVia Fernando somethingand his name, I know I can find it using my favorite tool, the internet. Maksim will be there tomorrow; I want him to come with me, to make sure this won’t be a waste of time for me. I say goodbye to Doctor Rossi and hang up the phone. I finish my breakfast, head back into my room, and find Giovanni’s number on the dining table, underneath the lilies. I call him and ask him to bring Chiara to the hotel. There are things we need to talk about, especially regarding that darn brass token. I’ll start by asking her how she received it because something inside me whispers that the answer she’ll give will be the first clue to unmasking the inner workings of the Syndicate. That quiet voice, that hunch, tells me that wherever these tokens are distributed is the place I need to go next.
Chiara can’t join us today, but Giovanni convinced me he has all the information I need. It’s late afternoon, and we stand together beneath one of the arches of the Porta Pinciana, right next to the hotel. I examine the structure, touching the walls as if it’ll make me feel the history inside. Giovanni quietly observes me; he’s calm, with a slight, tender smile that I’m not even sure is there. I wonder why he looks at me that way. It’s a little unsettling, to be honest.
He wears dark jeans and his usual black trench coat, but his hair is brushed to the side today. It’s a change from the serious gangster look to the casual, fashionable man allure. Giovanni definitely has a taste for style.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask with a blush.
He has a faint frown with an unclear meaning. He seems to force himself to relax his features and resorts to a laugh. “You seem to get fascinated by the smallest of things!” he heartedly exclaims.
“Well, when you lose all you know, everything is like a first time,” I say, pursing my lips.
“Everything?” he checks with an insinuating smirk.
Cheeky. I know exactly what he means. I don’t want to linger further on a topic that belongs under the sheets, so I return to this meeting’s original purpose.
“What do you know about Chiara’s token?” I ask.
Giovanni chuckles, probably at my smooth change of the subject. “Privileged members of the Syndicate receive a token to attend their secret gatherings,” he replies, his tone back to business. “Chiara received instructions to pick it up from an antique shop in the center of Rome.”
“Do you know if all members go to the same shop?”
“Apparently.” Giovanni runs his hand through his thick hair to think. “Chiara said the man at the shop knew exactly why she was there.”
This is something I could work with. That is proof the shopkeeper was made aware that Chiara would come for the token, and this evidence suggests that the man has probably seen more of these Syndicate goons. Perhaps he keeps a list, or an overview of pick-up times, descriptions, and maybe even names. What if that shopkeeper is a way to find more members of the Syndicate? How valuable can that information be?
“We need to get to the shopkeeper,” I declare, more stern than determined.
Giovanni rounds his eyes. “What would that bring us?”
I click my tongue before defending my reasoning. “The man probably keeps a list of who’s supposed to get a token. What if we could get our hands on that list?”
Giovanni squints and purses his lips to think. He takes a moment to sort his thoughts. I can see he’s actually going with my reasoning and considering the possibility.
However, he is quick to shake his head and respond with a rejecting frown. “If the shopkeeper keeps such a prized list, the Syndicate is watching him twenty-four-seven,” he states. “And he might be Syndicate himself.”
Fair point, but we don’t have time for hesitation. I put my hands on my hips and adopt a resolute stance.
“Where is the antique shop?” I interrogate.
“On a street right by the Piazza di Trevi,” Giovanni answers with a slight smile. “But you’re not going there today,bella.”
I cross my arms and frown. “Why not?”
He takes a step closer to me, laying his hands on my shoulders. He plunges his gaze into mine, leaning in, coming right in front of my face. I want to dash back and avoid his gaze, but I am as mesmerized as a cobra by a snake charmer. The mossy-green color of his eyes is all I can see.
“If you get caught there, you compromise the entire mission,” he declares, severe, a fiery warning in his scowl.
I never expected Giovanni to be able to turn into such a dark creature. This is no longer the smooth talker speaking, but the Mafia Capitale soldier. I freeze, perhaps a little scared of that tingly sensation I now have down my spine. That look in his eyes reminds me all too well of Maksim, of what he can do to me, and I don’t like anyone else having that glare.
“Let me go,” I warn with a reluctant growl.
He lowers his arms, and his old smile reappears. “I can take you to the Trevi Fountain instead if you want.”
