Page 108 of The San Marco Heist

Emmett cocked the infernal Reynolds eyebrow. I bet if I ever pointed out that he did exactly the same thing as his mother and sisters, he’d lose it on me.

I shook my head and stood as Rav and Jayce returned to the table with far too much food. Clamping a hand over my opposite ear so I could hear him better, I said, “Why?”

“Allora…” Edoardo cleared his throat, as though he were busy swallowing his pride. “I need you to open your safe.”

I’d designed a custom safe for him, hidden behind a bookcase in his immense library. But it was his safe now. “Why do you need me?”

He lowered his voice, making it hard to hear him over all the tourists and the music playing around the piazza. “Someone broke in and tried to open it. They triggered the glass re-locker. Now I’m stuck and can’t get it open.”

A group of pretty young things—probably too young for me—sauntered by, and one of them gave me a wink.

I returned no more than a salute. “Edoardo, you own a safe deposit box company. You must have at least five locksmiths you use on a regular basis. Send me the contact info for one of them and I’ll send the details over.”

“You misunderstand. Perhaps I’m using the wrong words. I have a…”

“A need for discretion?”

What he kept in there was his own business. I cracked safes to recover items, to help people who lost their combinations, or to help people after a loved one passed without providing security instructions in their will. But given the size of Edoardo’s house, and the complexity of the safe he had me design, he probably kept enough in there that he wouldn’t trust most people to see it—especially if he didn’t even trust his own company to keep those things safe.

“Sì, exactly. Discretion.”

“Hold a minute.” I made my way back to the disgustingly adorable couple, put the phone on mute, and interrupted them mid-kiss. “Scar?”

She and Malcolm startled. They’d forgotten they were out in public. Good for her.

“Do you remember Edoardo Caetani?”

“Of course. Don’t tell me he’s had another painting stolen?” She flicked her gaze to Malcolm. “Old friend of the company. We recovered a Caravaggio for him, what, a year and a half ago?”

“Sounds about right.”

Malcolm circled her waist with his overly possessive hands and held her close. “A new job already?”

I put my hands up in front of myself. “No, no. I designed a new safe for him after that, and apparently he had someone break in. Now he needs my help to reopen it.”

Scarlett nodded. “Brian is flying everyone back in a couple of days. If you can wait for that, we can get the flight routed through Rome and he could drop you off? How much time do you need?”

Malcolm chuckled. “Wish I had a jet.”

“Not sure how long it’ll be. I need to get in and survey the damage. Re-review the specs. I’ve got a way in that should work, but I won’t know until I see it.”

“Malcolm and I are going to stay here for a…” She tilted her head at him. “Week? Two weeks?”

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her temple. “I’ll take whatever you’ll give me.”

I pointed my phone—still on mute—at him. “And you got Rav’s warning about—”

“Killing me? Yeah, I got that back at your office. And a few times after that.”

“Smart man. He’ll never take it back.” I grinned at him and saluted her, then left to finish my phone call. “Edoardo, I can be there in two, maybe three days. That work for you?”

“Sì, that works for me. I have another specialist arriving from the States around the same time. This should be good.”

“Another specialist? You doubt me?”

“Declan, I have more than one safe in my house. I need them both opened after the break in.”

“The other safe’s not as good as mine, right?”

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