Page 32 of Licence To Howl
‘Mr Webb? Signore Webb?’ The knock came again. ‘There are several people downstairs who are waiting for you. They are … most insistent.’
Scarlett was already pulling away from him. She looked flushed – and troubled. It had taken her little more than seconds to regret making a move on him. Devereau cursed inwardly. Then he squared his shoulders and marched to the door, opening it and glaring at the unfortunate man standing on the threshold. He wasn’t a lowly hotel employee, however. From the cut of his suit and his well manicured fingernails and facial hair, he looked to be somebody rather high up in the Hotel Condotti hierarchy.
‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Signore Webb,’ the man said, in accented English. From his expression, he was lying through his teeth. ‘My name is Aldo Costa. I am the hotel manager here. As I said through the door, there are some people waiting for you in the lobby on the ground floor. They require your immediate attention.’
With his thoughts still in disarray after his encounter with Scarlett, it took Devereau a moment or two to process what Aldo Costa was saying. When he finally did, he realised why it was the manager himself who’d appeared at his door.
‘Lupo,’ he said. Damn it. The Italian werewolves’ timing sucked arse.
Costa was too relieved that Devereau knew who he’d been talking about to register his annoyance. ‘Si. Yes. As I’m sure you’re aware, we are an inclusive establishment and we welcome all sorts of … people. However, this is rather a large group and they are causing some concern amongst our other guests.’ He raised his eyebrows at Devereau. ‘They said you were expecting them.’
‘Not this early.’ Moretti had said night. It was barely evening. ‘But don’t worry. I’ll come down and see to them. I’ll grab my jacket and a few things first.’
A flicker of worry crossed the hotel manager’s face. ‘I would appreciate it personally if you could be fast.’
Devereau gave him a stony look. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’ He closed the door in the man’s face.
Scarlett had already smoothed back her hair and adjusted her clothing. ‘Trouble?’ she asked.
Devereau pulled a face. ‘An irritation.’ One that he could definitely do without.
Chapter Thirteen
At least Scarlett’sdisbelief gave them both something else to think about beyond the near miss mutual seduction that had happened only moments ago.
‘You came to Rome and you didn’t check in with the Lupo clan upon your arrival?’ She stared at him with the same sort of expression that she might have also worn if he’d stripped naked, placed a pineapple on top of his head and performed the macarena in front of the Trevi Fountain.
‘I didn’t know of the Lupo clan. How could I check in with people who I didn’t know existed?’
Scarlett leaned across to press the button for the lift. He allowed himself a heart-stopping gulp of the heady scent of her hair before she continued to berate him for a fool.
‘Jesus, Devereau. You’re not naïve enough to think that only England has supes, right?’
He inhaled again. Damn. She smelled better than that weird shit they pumped into the atmosphere of Heart, the vamp nightclub in Soho. Then he met her eyes and remembered to focus on the conversation. ‘Of course not,’ he said. ‘In fact, I also know that Rome wasfoundedby werewolves.’
‘Did Nicolo Moretti tell you that right before he beat your arse?’
‘You know him?’
‘I’ve met him once or twice.’ Scarlett sighed. ‘You should have done your homework, Devereau. Visiting Moretti and the rest of the Lupo clan should have been the top of your agenda. It’s common courtesy. Not only that but your unannounced arrival could be seen as a genuine threat. Wolves are territorial creatures. Even you know that.’
The lift dinged as it finally arrived at their floor. ‘I had other things on my mind than the werewolves of Rome, Scarlett.’ They both stepped into the lift. ‘But, yes, I should have considered them and done more to seek them out. I’ve learnt my lesson.’
The doors closed and the lift started to descend.
‘However,’ he added, ‘Moretti didn’t beat my arse.’
Scarlett sniffed. ‘Not yet. But he definitely will soon.’
‘I’m the most powerful werewolf that’s been seen for generations. It took four separate bites to turn me,’ he reminded her.
‘You might be powerful, Devereau,’ Scarlett said. ‘But you’re nothing compared to Nicolo Moretti.’
Jealousy flared deep in his chest. ‘You sound like you admire him,’ he growled.
She shrugged. ‘I do.’ She paused. ‘Even if he is an ostentatious furball with an ego the size of Mount Etna.’
The lift dinged again and the doors slid open to reveal the hotel lobby. Devereau blinked. Aldo Costa hadn’t been lying when he’d said there was a large group waiting for him. There had to be at least twenty werewolves standing in wait for him. Scarlett let out a low whistle. ‘Yep,’ she said. ‘You’re screwed.’
