Page 21 of Forging Caine

Emma giggled as she pulled her prince behind her and her eyes lit up when she saw me. She ran over to tell me, “Auntie Sammy! Prince Annonio is going to do more drawings for me!”

I placed my wineglass on the counter and leaned down to her level, putting on the best Favorite Auntie smile I could. “You’re a very lucky girl.”

Antonio knelt next to her. “You go to your playroom with the drawing table and I’ll be right there. I’d like to talk to your Uncle Nathan for a moment. I promise I won’t be long.”

She nodded and tore out of the kitchen, thundering up the stairs with enough force we heard it over the music and chatter.

Antonio stretched out a hand. “It’s been too long, Nathan.”

“Good to see you.” Nathan shook with Antonio, but his jaw remained tight. “Listen, if you two are going to see that monster, you need to prepare. Review everything he would know about you, so you don’t slip up and give him any more fodder.”

“I see you told him about our little chat with our friend, bella?” Antonio’s arm slid around my waist, either as a mark of support or an unspoken message for Nathan to back off.

Which he didn’t do. “She did and I’m worried you’re getting in over your heads.”

Both my hands rose to cover my face, scrubbing up and down. Antonio’s flight delays. The FBI case. Dad’s letter. Fiori’s call. I needed to get away. Get out. Get lost.

I needed my motorcycle. To go for a long drive all by myself. Or to a cliff to climb.

Another cheer erupted from the basement, everyone’s attention snapping toward the hallway where the stairs were.

No tears, Sam.

Nathan’s brows drew down and he squeezed my arm. “What’s going on? You’re getting way more upset than—”

“Nothing.” I stepped away from them. I wanted to tell Nathan and Cass the truth about Dad. But I couldn’t. I shouldn’t have come to the party so soon after finding out. “Lucy’s here somewhere. I want to see how her movie experience was.”

Nathan nodded.

“Sì, and I have drawings to do.”

They were both trying to support me. The logical side of my brain knew that, but it was a near-silent voice in my head, with all the other things crowding it out.

I waved a hand and left the kitchen, unsure which direction to take. Upstairs to find out if Lucy was with Logan, then I could join them yelling at the games? Maybe to the basement where I’d be ignored while the sports fans cheered for whatever was on? The front door was the most tempting option, but the evening was about my sister, not me.

All I needed was to kill a couple of hours.

Then Antonio and I would leave to face Pasquale Fiori.

Chapter 8

Antonio

Themaîtred’ledSamantha and me through the white neoclassical-themed dining room. White walls, white coffered ceiling soaring high above us, and white half-walls covered in greenery. All bracketed by smooth Doric columns.

“Someday, you and I shall have an actual date here,” I said, squeezing Samantha’s hand.

“That would be nice. But we need to focus.”

“No, you need to relax. Did you see Lucy?”

The corners of her lips turned down. “You lead the conversation, since he called you, and I’ll probe for details, as appropriate.”

This was not her relaxing. I gestured to a painting as we passed it, a modern take on figures from Greek red-figure vase painting. “These are stunning, are they not?”

“No mention of Vincenzo, the Casa di Marte fresco, or me being anything more than an insurance adjuster.”

“And the double-drum chandeliers,” I said, pointing above us. “Perhaps I should have one of those installed in our bedroom.”

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