Page 17 of Licence To Howl
Venti turned to Devereau. ‘You,’ he barked. ‘You are English?’
‘I am.’
‘This … man is threatening you?’
Devereau pursed his lips and did his best to look surprised. ‘Nope. No threats here. He’s giving me directions to my hotel. I’m a bit lost, you see. This gentleman here has been kind enough to help me out.’ He didn’t mention the dozen or so werewolves who were all lying belly down on the road with their eyes averted.
‘He is giving you directions?’ Venti asked, disbelievingly.
‘Yep.’ He looked at Moretti. ‘Straight ahead, second right?’
‘Third right,’ Moretti corrected.
Devereau nodded. ‘Ah yes. Thank you.’
Venti cursed and began yelling in Italian again. Moretti kept his mouth shut and listened. So much for the power of the wolf running through the arteries of Rome.
Devereau cleared his throat and attempted to interrupt. ‘I’ll be on my way then.’
Both Moretti and Venti glared at him.
Devereau held up his hands. ‘Or not. I’m in no rush.’ His stomach grumbled loudly. ‘Although I might pass out from hunger if this continues for too long.’
Venti rolled his eyes. ‘One of my men will escort you to your hotel so that you do not get lost again.’
‘That’s not necessary,’ Devereau began.
The policeman jabbed a finger at him. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It is.’ He bit out one final word in Italian at Moretti and spun on his heel, marching to his car with stiff legs. Someone ought to seriously consider yoga, Devereau thought.
‘Thank you,’ Moretti muttered.
‘What’s happening between you and me has nothing to do with them,’ Devereau replied, jerking his head at the police cars.
They both watched as Venti bent his head towards the open window of one of the other cars and said something. A moment later, a younger looking police officer got out and looked towards Devereau.
Moretti was silent for a moment. ‘Indeed,’ he said finally. ‘Listen, honest mistake or not, I can’t ignore your insult. You didn’t pay your respects and things need to happen because of that.’
‘What do I need to do to make amends that doesn’t involve either my death or my total submission?’
Moretti’s yellow glazed eyes suddenly gleamed. ‘I’ll arrange for you to be picked up from your hotel tomorrow night. You can make it up to me then.’
Devereau frowned. ‘How?’
The Italian alpha grinned. ‘You’ll see.’
Devereau met his eyes. ‘Then I’ll look forward to it.’
Chapter Eight
The following morning,Scarlett found him slumped in a comfy chair in the lobby of the Hotel Condotti, his hands curled round a very large cup of coffee.
‘And here I was thinking, Devereau,’ she said, ‘that you’d be waiting on the balls of your feet on the steps outside with a glint of excitement in your eyes and your usual boyish verve.’
Boyish? He looked up at her with a frown. ‘I had a late night.’ Not only had he been forced to contend with Moretti, but he’d also still had to eat and write a message to Sarah Greensmith to update her about his efforts and plans to connect with Solentino. Naturally, he’d not mentioned Scarlett in his email. Greensmith was on a need to know basis and where Scarlett was concerned, the MI5 agent needed to know nothing.
‘Did somebody break into your room while naked?’ Scarlett inquired without smiling. ‘No? Well, then you have nothing to complain about.’
She had a point. He sighed and got to his feet. ‘Do you have the ring?’ he asked.
