Page 41 of Forging Caine

She gave me a tight smile, already halfway up the stairs. “Maybe.”

I left the meal prep on the counter, reconsidering my gym idea. Two long days of travel, plus Cassandra’s party, and the evening with Fiori—not to mention getting engaged and several rounds of lovemaking—had me exhausted. It was likely I’d injure myself in the gym.

Instead, I did breathwork on the way down the elevator. Deep inhale, hold it, slow exhale, hold again.

She’s more open than she used to be. Take that as a win.

Building a life with her was a marathon, not a sprint.

Deep breath in.

The building manager stood behind the concierge desk in the stunning three-story lobby. In his sixties with gray hair, Marcus’s sharp eyes missed little. Pink and purple flowers decorated the desk today, the scent of lilies and cedar in the air. Soft music hummed from speakers mounted on the walls. “Dr. Ferraro, I didn’t get to see you yesterday. Welcome home.”

“Grazie mille, Marcus. You texted I had package delivered?”

He signaled to a young dark-haired woman down the counter, and she slipped into the back office. “Private delivery. No return address.”

Fantastico.

The woman returned and handed me a plain box, less than a foot square. Not only was there no return address, there was no actual address, either. Only my name.

And I had a good feeling who sent it.

On the way up the elevator, I turned the box over, hearing the gentle thud of a light item inside. What now? Why was my cousin sending me another burner phone?

All I wanted was to enjoy my time with Samantha in peace.

Entering the great room, I felt her presence and stopped.

She stood at the top of the stairs. “What is it?”

“I think Cristian wants to talk.” I crossed to the kitchen and grabbed a knife. Part of me wanted to slam it into the box and make it go away, but I sliced the tape gingerly instead. Sure enough, it was a clamshell phone with a sticky note inside which readDial 1. “Sì, this would be my cousin.”

“You look as unsettled as I feel.” She took one tentative step down. “Should I be here for this?”

“No. You go upstairs and feel useful. I’ll grab you if there’s something I think you should hear, but otherwise I’ll tell you after we’re done. Is that all right with you?”

“It’s sort of has to be, doesn’t it?” She didn’t move. If I knew her, she was likely replaying the scene from our time in Napoli when I’d hidden one of Cristian’s phones from her, and she thought I was cheating on her.

“I won’t hide anything from you. I promise.”

“I know.” She gave a weak smile and climbed the stairs to the studio.

My chest swelled at her words. She trusted me. It had taken us a lot of work to get to that point, and it was all I needed to support me through this call. I headed down the hall by the foyer, in the opposite direction from our bedroom. Past the den, to the library, where I closed the door.

After speaking with Samantha that morning, I saw the library in a whole new light. It was spacious, with bookshelves lining three walls, a propane fireplace, and a desk off to one corner. There was also a piano, but I could move that somewhere else. Maybe reconfigure the great room or change one of the three spare bedrooms into a music room.

Then this would make a splendid office for her.

I pulled out my phone and texted a friend with a few logistical questions. Samantha would have all the floor space she needed for her crop circles.

Two well-cushioned wing chairs sat by the piano, with a reading table between them. I sat, flipped open the phone, and dialed eight, as I’d been taught all those years ago—if I’d dialed one as the note instructed, it would have been a sign someone had intercepted the phone or I’d been compromised.

Two rings and Cristian’s voice greeted me. “Cugino!”

“What news, Cristian?” Four months ago, he and his father, Giovanni, had been the pariahs of the Ferraro family. But they’d come to my aid more than once, and I was working hard to see them as something other than antiquities smugglers, which they weren’t anymore.

Or so they continued to insist.

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