Chapter 4
Cosimo stared at the woman, dazed like someone had hit him in the back of the head.
"Mi dispiace, signora," he stammered. "Do I know you?"
The woman sat down opposite him and crossed her legs. Cosimo couldn't help but notice the roses and small skulls tattooed on one ankle above her dark heels. The roses were bright red under her dark stockings, and he had to tear his eyes away, a hot thrill sweeping over his skin.
"I thought Henry would have told you," she said, her burgundy nails tapping impatiently on the tabletop. "I'm Marcella Sforza."
"Sforza..." Cosimo murmured, his eyes going wide.
This was the woman who had been beating him to books he wanted? He was always getting there a moment too late. She had been sabotaging his research from afar for months. He was going to kill Henry. All his warnings and hesitations suddenly made sense.
"Si, that Sforza," Marcella said, reading his face. Her own dark eyes were filled with malicious glee. "Now, the mighty Greatdrakes needs my help. Imagine my surprise."
"It can hardly be greater than mine right now," Cosimo replied.
He was still struggling that this was the same woman he had been ranting about all year when a waiter brought out a double espresso and set it down in front of her.
He smiled bashfully when Marcella thanked him.
As he hurried away, Cosimo noticed the napkin under her saucer had a phone number written on it.
"Why do you keep staring at me like that?" Marcella asked, stirring the creme in her espresso with her spoon.
"You aren't what I pictured when I was imagining the person who was sabotaging all my research attempts," Cosimo admitted. He had to get it together. He gave her the Greatdrakes smile. "My apologies, can we start again?"
Marcella raised a brow as she licked the creme from her spoon. Sweat gathered at the back of Cosimo's neck.
"No," she said simply.
"Then why did you bother coming here?" he asked, his smile vanishing.
"Curiosity. I wanted to put a face to a name, and Henry mentioned you know what happened in France," Marcella said, setting the spoon down.
He was definitely going to kill Henry.
"France? You are going to have to be more specific," Cosimo replied, leaning back in his chair. He knew he should leave, but his legs wouldn't obey. His dragon had locked him in place, the predator dazzled by the shiny creature in front of it.
Marcella picked up her espresso and blew on it. Cosimo debated the merits of jumping off the side of the balcony.
"I was there at the auction held by Chrysopoeia.
I had won a beautiful copy of Zosimos from Catherine Medici's personal library.
Imagine everyone's surprise when they went to remove the object, and it wasn't there," Macella said, her eyes narrowing.
"There was quite an uproar, especially because everyone with a drop of magic in the room realized someone had cast an illusion spell without any of us noticing. Masterful."
"And you think I had something to do with that?" Cosimo asked innocently. That book was currently sitting on his desk in Ireland, but Valentine had been the one to 'liberate' it from the alchemists, not him.
Marcella's shoulder lifted in a slight shrug. "Henry seemed to think so."
"So you didn't come because I want a negotiator?" Cosimo asked, needing to shift the conversation. She was too sharp not to pick up on the smallest of his tells. He was good at lying, but he was struggling to keep looking her in the eye when the rest of her was so intriguing.
Marcella Sforza was dangerous; there was no doubt about that. She appeared to be anywhere between thirty-five and forty-five years old and was settled in her beauty in a way that was striking and deadly, like a bolt of lightning that fried everyone around it from the inside out.
From what Cosimo knew of her reputation, she was savagely smart and competitive. He could feel power humming off her, despite the charms on her silver and gold bracelet that were shielding most of it.
Marcella tugged up the sleeves of her tight black cardigan and picked up her espresso again. "Why would you need a negotiator with the streghe at all? You are well-known in magical circles. You didn't think to maybe send them an email?"
"I was taught that's not the best way to approach them because they are secretive. I wanted to be as polite as possible," Cosimo replied. He drained his own coffee, wishing he had ordered wine instead.
"And who taught you that?" Marcella asked.
"My mother. She was a Gallo from Vincenza," Cosimo admitted, not bothering with a lie. She may unnerve him, but he had to think of his sister's plight.
"Ah, that explains it," Marcella said with a small smile. "Your magical aura is very mixed but powerful."
Cosimo shifted in his chair. "Isn't it a bit rude to read a man's aura when you first meet?"
"You're not a man." Marcella ran her eyes over him, leaving a burning sensation along his skin. "Not all of you, anyway. You're a magician, and I've learned to read your type from a mile away."
"There are no types like me, signora," Cosimo said, an edge in his voice. She wanted to spar, and he was done being prodded.
"It's signorina, and being one of a kind is what all you men like to claim." Marcella tapped her nails on the tabletop again. "What do I get if I help you? And don't waste my time by saying something like 'undying gratitude.' That will just piss me off, and I don't work for free."
Cosimo thought about it. Originally, he was going to offer money, but she had that. He wasn't stupid enough to owe another magical being a favor. It was too dangerous with all his family's resources.
"We like the same books, and I have a hunch that we are circling the same research topics. I'm sure we could find something in my collection that you would want," Cosimo replied smoothly.
"Hmm, like what?"
"I have a first edition of Dante's Divine Comedy," Cosimo began.
"So do I..."
"But was your edition owned by a mad monk who thought that Dante was a magician and was decoding each stanza into a spell?"
Marcella smiled, her first genuine one. Cosimo felt it hit him like a blow. "Which mad monk?"
"Father Alfonzo from Ravenna. It is rumored that he was a spiritual advisor to Caterina Sforza. She's an ancestor of yours, no?"
Marcella fluttered her lashes. "And what makes you say that?"
"Besides the fact that you share the same last name? How about how you wield your beauty like a weapon, dazzling everyone around you, so you get your own way, and no one suspects how dangerous or clever you really are?" Cosimo replied, his promise of politeness forgotten.
"You think I'm beautiful?" she asked, teasingly innocent.
"Yes, and so would every person who sees you. That waiter is young enough to be your son, by the way," he said, looking pointedly at the number written on the napkin.
Marcella's chuckle was soft and lethal. "And the waiter flirting with me is the reason you think I'm related to Caterina?"
"If you are, I can see exactly why the Medici family and every other powerful man of her age had so much trouble with her."
Marcella's soft laugh turned loud and delighted. "Well, that's a compliment I'll take. You are much more interesting when you're not pretending to be so polite, Greatdrakes."
"You can call me Cosimo," he said, smiling despite their sparring.
"I know," she replied and re-crossed her legs in a smooth movement. "I'd like to know why you need permission to enter strega territory before I agree to help you. And do be honest. I hate liars."
Charmed despite himself, Cosimo told her all about Maria, her disappearance, what she was looking for, and finally her reappearance and warning about witches.
"A temple of Minerva? Fascinating," Marcella mused, tapping her lips with her index finger in a distracting way.
"Unlikely, but also not impossible. Forli was a Roman settlement, and they have recently found a beautiful temple south of there at Sarsina that was dedicated to Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva. "
"And your people are from Forli. You never heard of an old temple or an argument with an Irish magician?" Cosimo asked.
"Mine is not the only family there, and they fight with each other and all other magic users like feral cats."
"And that's why you live here in Firenze?"
"Partly." Marcella's expression turned guarded. "I have history there with the ruling witch family. Helping you might break the uneasy peace between us."
"So you won't help?" Cosimo said, his heart sinking. "I suppose it's a good thing. I'm rather attached to all of my books."
Marcella studied his face carefully. "I didn't say I wouldn't help. I just want you to know that I might not be the best person for this. If I do agree to work with you, my price will be high because of it."
"That is fair," Cosimo replied with a nod. "What do you want?"
"I'll have to think about it," Marcella said. She drank the last of her espresso in a quick shot and got to her feet. She picked up the napkin and tucked the number into her bra with a wink.
Cosimo's irritation flared, and he huffed out. "How long will it take you to think about it?"
"For as long as I like." Marcella rested a hand on his shoulder on her way past him. Cosimo stilled under the touch. Goose bumps slid down his spine as she leaned down and whispered in his ear, "Something tells me you will wait for me."
And then she was gone in a haze of perfume and magic. Cosimo shot a look over his shoulder to get one last glimpse of her walking through the café. That skirt and everything it showed off burned into his retinas.
"I don't have time to wait," he grumbled under his breath.
I've been waiting for her for years, his dragon whispered, the scent of her still in his nose and lungs.
"You have not. Go away, you infernal menace." Cosimo leaned over to put his elbows on his knees and ran his hands through his hair in frustration.
He replayed the conversation over in his head, and when he closed his eyes, all he could see was the way she licked creme from her spoon.
Cosimo had expected going after Maria to be messy. Now he knew it would be a nightmare. Having to rely on a beautiful rival for help? He was, as his sons were going to be quick to point out, completely fucked.