Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
Angelo
“Happy birthday, dear Remi,” everyone in the household sings, “happy birthday to you.”
Leaning over the cake, she blows out the candles, getting all twenty-two of them out with a single puff.
“I’ll let you do the honors.” Alessandra hands Remi a knife.
She accepts, but hesitates with the blade hovering over the cake. “Do I have to? It’s too pretty to cut!”
Alessandra grabs the knife from her hand and slices right down the center of Remi’s concert grand piano…cake.
“There still could be a hidden room,” Remi mutters, and I chuckle quietly.
“What?” Alessandra asks, bringing up the blade with red bits of cake.
“Never mind.” Remi shakes her head. “I’m beyond amazed how you created this! And the keys, so much detail!”
“It is impressive, Al,” I tell my sister.
“I’ve got time on my hands.” Alessandra shrugs.
Remi clears her throat. “You’re an amazing cake artist. It’s a compliment…”
“Thanks,” she mumbles. “Which piece would you like?”
“E major,” Remi answers without hesitation.
“What a surprise you chose the happiest of all the chords,” I muse.
“What’s your favorite chord?” she counters.
“D minor,” I answer without hesitation.
“What a surprise you chose the broodiest of all the chords,” Remi retorts.
“Not a musical bone in this body, so you’ll have to point to what you want,” Alessandra interjects.
“Give me the E key and D key for Angelo,” Remi points to the correct keys. “I’m a glutton. Cake for breakfast and now cake for lunch.” She claps her hands together before accepting the plate.
“I’ve had my share of sweets this morning,” I agree, my eyes meeting hers.
Remi nearly chokes on the first bite, her cheeks warming.
God, I love that.
“You need something to drink?” Corinne doesn’t wait for a reply, pouring Remi a glass of water.
“Maks, you’re not allergic to sweets?” Alessandra raises an eyebrow when he appears next in line. She cuts him a random chunk; an interesting choice.
D Minor. The chord of tragedy.
Not to be melodramatic, but from what I know of Maks’ background, it fits.
“Depends. Did you poison this piece?”
My sister hesitates. “That would be pretty ingenious to poison only a section of the cake. Gum paste would actually be a good medium to hide arsenic. But this is a two-layer cake, so I’m not sure if poison would soak into the bottom layer…”
Remi’s fork hovers at her mouth. Alessandra glances at her expectantly, and she smiles and takes a big bite. “Delicious.”
“She didn’t poison the cake,” I whisper in Remi’s ear, but I catch myself discreetly sniffing my piece.
My phone buzzes, and I excuse myself from the festivities. “Nic.” I answer.
“It’s done,” he says solemnly.
“Excellent.” I end the call.
My loyalty is to the boss of this family; you know that.
What I know is my cousin said “the boss,” but he never said me. What I also know is that it isn’t done, because Fabien was released on parole this morning. A supposed “recalculation” of his time served.
Remi is now behind her actual keyboard, a bluesy melody filling the room.
Joining her, I take a seat on the bench facing opposite her. “Be ready for the second part of your birthday surprise when I return.”
“I can’t believe there’s more.” She smiles, moving her fingers over the keyboard smooth as silk, never taking her eyes off mine.
“ Sei la ragione di ogni mio sorriso .” I smile, pressing my lips to hers.
“What does that mean?” She asks when I pull back.
“While I’m away handling business, I need you, Al, and Nola in the panic room,” I tell her.
“Why?” Remi asks with wide eyes, ending her play.
“No!” Al shouts, eavesdropping from the kitchen.
“Just a precaution,” I lie.
Remi’s forehead bunches. “Will you be in danger?”
“No.” Not exactly danger; more a calculated risk. Remi looks like she wants to argue, and I hold up my hand. “Nonnegotiable. When I return, you’ll get your present, and then we’ll attend the Monarch ball.”
“And you’ll be with Laurie. On my birthday.” Remi frowns.
Al whistles. “You’d better come through big with that present.”
“Stop eavesdropping on my business.” I chide my sister.
“Your business sounds dumb as hell.”
Unclenching my jaw, I explain to Remi, “This is the final part of my ceremonial duties. There will be fireworks,” I promise.
“Last time there were fireworks, I was shoved in the river,” Remi points out.
“The party is at my restaurant, so no chance of that,” I assure her. “We’ll discuss this when I get back. But for now, I need you ladies in the panic room.”
“You have to be the one to round up Nola,” Remi says, challenge in her eyes.
“Nola,” I call, and she comes trotting to me.
“Seriously?” Remi cries.
Picking up Nola, I give her a cuddle. “I need you to protect your human and my sister while I’m gone.”
The cat’s purrs vibrate my chest.
I escort them to the panic room, unlocking the door hidden behind the false bookcase. “Inside you go.”
Nola hops down, exploring the new cat condo I had installed for her.
Tucking a strand of hair behind Remi’s ear, I press my lips to hers. “ Amorina, ti amo più di ogni altra cosa al mondo .”
“What does that mean?” Remi asks, pulling back.
“Your new nickname. Amorina .”
Locking them inside, I track down Maks. “You have my leverage?” I confirm.
“Secured at the safe house.”
“Good. Let’s go end this once and for all.”
Remi
“‘ Amorina. ’” I try out the Italian word. “What does it mean?”
“That stick-up-his-ass Angelo Calvani is secretly a romantic. Color me shocked.”
He is, now that I think about it.
“But what’s the translation?” I press.
“Little love.”
“Awww.” I beam.
Alessandra’s cell rings, and she answers. “Hello?”
There’s a pause, and she says, “Thanks for letting me know.”
Ending the call, she frantically scrolls through her phone. “What’s wrong?” I ask, but she holds up a finger.
“Nic, I need you to get to Hotel D’Amico right now,” she says on speakerphone. “This is an emergency.”
“Who is this?” He jokes in an exaggerated Italian accent.
“Nic, dammit. This is serious! Fabien’s out of prison, and he and Angelo are going to kill each other.”
“Al, I’m not gonna get involved, and the rest of the family feels the same way. They can fight it out, and may the best Calvani brother win.”
“If you don’t get there in the next ten minutes, I’ll tell everyone in the family…you know what,” she threatens.
“Christ, Al,” he mutters. “I’m walking out the door now.”
She ends the call, turning to me. “We’ve gotta get out of here and get to Hotel D’Amico.”
“But I thought your brother wasn’t supposed to be released until next week?”
“Yeah, I thought so too, but the first call was from the correctional officer I’ve been paying for information.
Fabien got an early release, and either Angelo is walking into a trap, or Angelo is baiting Fabien into a trap.
Either way, my brothers are going to kill each other!
” Alessandra grabs a gun from the wall rack.
“Do you know how to use that?” I eye the weapon nervously.
“Of course.” She scoffs, as if I’ve offended her. “I don’t know how to drive, though. Do you?”
“No! I’ve never owned a car.”
“Alright, we’ll figure this out. Let’s go.” Alessandra unlocks the door, and I scoop Nola in my arms, following her out. A guard appears ahead of us, blocking the way.
“Mr. Calvani said?—”
Alessandra aims the gun at him. “I don’t give a shit what my brother said. I’m the only Calvani in this house right now, so that means I’m in charge. You’re driving us to Hotel D’Amico.”
He holds up his hands. “Ms. Calvani, I can’t do that.”
There’s a loud bang , and I scream as blood splatters the back of the wall, the guard grabbing his arm. “You shot me!” he says in disbelief, his hand covering the wound.
“Gah, still not into the gore,” Alessandra says, now aiming the gun at another guard who’s running over.
“You will take us to Hotel D’Amico.”
“Miss, I can’t?—”
I scream, Alessandra having shot him too, this time in the shoulder.
“Enough!” Corinne appears, hands over her ears. “Before you shoot everyone in this household, I’ll drive you. But if your brother asks, you took me hostage.”
“Deal,” Alessandra says.