Chapter 14
Rav
I tucked our small SUV into a parking space half a block away from Eventi Coppola. To our right, buildings covered in stucco of various shades crowded against each other, rising six to ten stories. On the bottom floors were salons, boutiques, and access to the upper floors.
To our left, across the bustling street, a black metal fence separated us from the treed park surrounding the Naples Aquarium. Beyond that, another road and the harbor.
After killing the engine, I adjusted the rearview mirror to catch Malcolm’s eye in the back seat.
I flicked a tiny button on my earpiece—not the hidden one Scarlett and Malcolm were wearing, but the one that made it clear I was their bodyguard. “Comms check.”
“Clear,” Malcolm replied, straightening his silk tie.
“I’m clear,” Scarlett confirmed, her attention on a compact mirror as she applied a final touch of lipstick. “HQ?”
“Coming in loud and clear,” came the response from Brie, who was coordinating the team at home. “I’m ready to upload files, specs, or whatever you can find.”
My contact, Sierra Esposito, was a concierge at a luxury hotel in town, and she’d secured a meeting for Scarlett and Malcolm.
In their undercover roles as a wealthy couple, they were coordinating an anniversary celebration for Malcolm’s parents next year.
They’d expressed an interest in possibly booking the amphitheater.
I’d play the silent bodyguard who melted into the background until needed.
Our goal: obtain access to the backstage area during the concert.
I exited first, opening Malcolm’s door by the sidewalk, then standing back while he helped Scarlett out. I fell into step slightly behind them, maintaining the perfect balance of visibility and discretion.
Inside, the narrow office stretched far into the building. From Brie’s satellite recon, it exited into a small courtyard ringed by the buildings on the block. Three staff members worked phones at simple desks, while others moved between workstations with digital tablets and sample books.
Malcolm approached the receptionist. “Good morning. Lucius and Eloise Stone to see Gabriella Rossi. We have an appointment.”
The receptionist—young, immaculately dressed, with a Bluetooth earpiece—smiled professionally. “Of course, Signor Stone. Signora Rossi is expecting you. Please, follow me.”
As we moved through the office, I remained a few steps behind, sweeping my gaze over the entire office. The best part of the bodyguard routine was that no one was surprised when I clocked the security cameras and doors, and I inspected each person we passed.
My attention was caught by a desk where a young woman was attaching laminated passes to colorful lanyards. If we were lucky, Scarlett and Malcolm would obtain backstage access. If we weren’t that lucky, but still lucky enough, that woman had the passes we needed.
We were shown to a meeting room at the rear of the building, with a glass wall separating us from the office activity and another on the opposite wall offering a view of the small courtyard.
The room featured a conference table for six and plush leather chairs, while digital displays on the wall scrolled through previous events.
Gabriella Rossi entered moments later. She had dark hair and was in her mid-forties, dressed in a burgundy suit.
“Signor and Signora Stone,” she greeted warmly, shaking hands with Malcolm, then Scarlett. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Sierra mentioned you’re planning a significant anniversary celebration?”
I positioned myself near the door, at an angle that let me monitor my teammates while keeping an eye on the office. Malcolm and Scarlett slipped effortlessly into their roles, discussing his fictional parents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary planned for next November.
“We’re considering Naples because it’s where they honeymooned,” Scarlett explained, her voice carrying just the right note of sentimentality. She moved into their substantial budget and their desire for exclusivity.
I half-listened while keeping the credential desk in my peripheral vision. The woman I’d noticed earlier was now sorting through the passes, occasionally glancing our way with undisguised curiosity.
Scarlett steered the conversation toward current events. “I understand you’re handling a performance at the Pompeii Amphitheater this weekend?”
“Yes,” Gabriella confirmed. “The ‘Rebirth of Antiquity’ concert is part of the Notte Bianca festivities. It will be a stunning presentation, combining modern musical performances with an artistic light show.”
“The amphitheater would be spectacular for the party.”
Gabriella nodded appreciatively. “It’s a magnificent venue, though there are many considerations for booking historic sites. Permits, preservation requirements.”
“That’s a fantastic idea, honey muffin.” Malcolm beamed at Scarlett with unabashed admiration, the way he only did while they were undercover and pretending to be married—and she couldn’t tell him to stop. “We’d love to attend this concert to get a sense of how the space functions during an event.”
Gabriella smiled. “I can arrange seating in the upper portion of the bowl.”
“What about backstage?” asked Malcolm. “So we can see the operations?”
We’d purchased several floor tickets from a resale site. Anyone on our team could slip backstage with one of those tickets, but we’d have to bypass security. That would risk a Fenix member looking too closely at us in our disguises. It would be easier with legitimate access.
Or at least with passes that appeared legitimate.
“I’m sorry. There’s no backstage access available.”
For the general public, no doubt. There was always backstage access.
“Are you sure?” Scarlett exchanged a glance with Malcolm. “We can pay.”
Gabriella spread her hands in apology. “Mi dispiace, but it’s not a matter of money.”
Scarlett pouted, and how Malcolm didn’t laugh at her amazed me. “We understand. I suppose observing from the audience would be valuable for our planning.”
That was her way of moving us to Plan B.
My turn.
I touched my earpiece as if receiving a message, then leaned toward Malcolm. “Excuse me, sir. There’s a situation I need to deal with.”
He gave me the barest nod of acknowledgment. “Of course, James. Take whatever time you need.”
I exited the meeting room, striding toward the reception area. I paused halfway through the office, pulling out my phone as if checking a message.
The credential desk was unattended, the woman having moved to a printer across the office.
Perfect.
I stared at my phone, took a few steps toward the wall, and furrowed my brow. From my position, I could watch the woman’s desk without seeming obvious. The stack of black passes bore images of the Pompeii Amphitheater and the letters VIP in gold at the bottom.
Keeping my eyes on my phone, I shifted my attention between the screen and the woman at the printer. She gathered her papers, turned, and started walking back toward her desk.
Timing was everything.
I made a show of typing furiously while I walked, my body angled just enough for our paths to intersect. Three steps… two… one…
Her shoulder bumped into mine, and my phone flew from my hand in a carefully calculated arc that sent it skittering under her desk. The papers she’d collected exploded into the air, fluttering down around us.
“Désolé! I wasn’t looking where I was going.” I dropped to one knee, gathering papers. “I’m so sorry! Let me help.”
“It’s nothing,” she said in lightly accented English. Her shoulders dropped, and she knelt with me to collect the scattered documents.
“No, it’s completely my fault.” I flashed her an apologetic smile, the kind that usually softened even the hardest expressions. “I was reading an email from my boss. He’s very… demanding.”
Her expression warmed slightly. “I know the feeling.”
I handed her a stack of papers I’d collected, making brief eye contact. “Are you busy with the festival this week?”
She laughed, a gentle sound that made her eyes crinkle at the corners. “I’ve only had four hours of sleep a night.”
“You don’t look it.” I stood and offered her a hand up.
“Grazie.” She took my hand, glancing at the floor instead of meeting my eyes. “Your phone went under my desk.”
“I’m glad you saw it.” I shook my head ruefully. “I just hope it’s not broken.”
She stood back and gestured into her cubicle, inviting me to retrieve my phone. “Are you here with the couple in the conference room?”
“Yes,” I sighed dramatically. “They’re looking at venues for an anniversary celebration.”
“There are many beautiful locations in Napoli,” she said.
I smiled again, giving her a quick once-over. “Many beautiful things, yes.”
She smiled in response, and Brooke’s face flashed in my mind—the intelligent eyes and the smile I’d glimpsed while we fell into planning mode over the amphitheater diagrams.
Focus, man. This is important. Flirt with her if it helps.
I placed one hand solidly on her desk as I leaned down to locate my phone.
When I spotted it, I crouched, letting my hand on the desk move toward the stack of passes.
As I reached underneath, I kept my hand on top for apparent balance, then knocked into the stack of VIP passes, toppling them across her desk and onto the floor.
“Cazzo!” she exclaimed.
“Tabarnak!” I shielded my head from the flurry of invitations with one hand.
Meanwhile, I snuck one of Brie’s devices out of my pocket and attached it to the underside of her desk.
With that done, I slid three of the passes that had fallen underneath me into my inner breast pocket.
No one could see me half under her desk, which was the ideal cover.
I craned my neck around and intentionally bumped my head on the desk.
Clutching it and feigning pain, I said, “I’m having no luck today! ”
She clamped a hand over her mouth to hide her laughter. “No, you are not.”
I twisted around and sat on the floor, grabbing my phone and the scattered passes. I paused before handing them up to her. “Are these for the Pompeii concert this weekend?”
“They are. There’s VIP seating close to the stage, plus backstage access.”
After I stood, I set the passes on her desk and slipped my phone into my pants pocket. “How much are they?”
“They’re already assigned.” She gestured to a printout on her desk. “Dignitaries. Contest winners. Friends of the band.”
That had been Brie’s guess, thus her device.
The event planners had a confirmed guest list, and the VIP tickets would no doubt be cross-referenced against the list. Either Brie would have to hack into their systems and add more people, change the list, or we’d have to ensure the people whose tickets we had didn’t go.
“Are you going?” she asked with a hopeful tilt to her brows.
“Probably. My boss is considering the amphitheater as the location for his event.”
“Gabriella’s one of the best in the city. If that’s what your boss wants, that’s what he’ll get.” A light blush touched her cheeks. “Perhaps I’ll see you there.”
“Will you be in the audience?” I tapped the VIP passes on her desk. “Or backstage?”
“I’ll be everywhere.” She hesitated, then quickly scribbled something on a sticky note. “My number. In case you find yourself with free time after the event.”
I glanced toward the conference room. Malcolm caught my eye briefly, and I extended my arm to adjust my watch—the success signal. “Looks like I’m needed.”
“Of course.” She extended a hand. “It was nice to meet you…”
“James,” I said, shaking her hand. “The pleasure was very much mine.”
Malcolm and Scarlett emerged from the meeting room with Gabriella.
“Thank you for your time,” Malcolm was saying. “We’ll definitely be in touch after we’ve reviewed the materials.”
“My pleasure,” Gabriella said. “I’ll have those sample itineraries sent to your hotel this afternoon, and the upper bowl passes will be in your email.”
I stepped forward. “We should leave soon to make your next appointment.”
Malcolm nodded. “Of course, James. Thank you.”
We walked out together in silence.
But once the doors to our vehicle were closed, Scarlett leaned forward from the back seat. “Well?”
“I obtained three VIP passes.” Once I’d pulled into traffic, I handed the passes to Scarlett. “They’ll provide full access.”
“Was there a list?” asked Brie over my earpiece.
“Yes. She had it printed on her desk.”
Brie hummed aloud. “I’ll get my team on it. We’ll find a way into their system and figure out the best course of action. Scar?”
“Already scanning them.” A special mode on her custom Reynolds phone could upload any digital signature in the passes for Brie.
“Got it,” said Brie. “Signing off unless you need anything else?”
“We’re done,” said Scarlett.
Everyone turned off their earpieces, and she tapped me on the shoulder. “I just got a text from Drew. He’s about to leave. He’ll pick up Malcolm and me at Pompeii, so you can head straight in.”
I nodded, accelerating slightly. “Tell him to bring me a change of clothes.”
“But you’re so handsome in a suit.”
I glared at her in the rearview mirror, recognizing the singsong tone in her voice—the tone she used when she was setting me up with someone.
She cocked her eyebrow at me, clearly conveying that I was right.
“There are lives at stake, Scarlett,” I said, turning my glower on the vehicles around me. “A lot of them.”
“You know, sugar butt…” Malcolm kissed Scarlett on the cheek. “I think lives were at stake when I fell for you, too.”