Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
Gabriele
I hear him as I walk toward the dining room and have to pause outside the door to compose myself. It's been at least two years since I saw him but his voice is unmistakable.
The way he speaks, as if he's sharing something private the rest of the world isn't meant to hear, tells me Katya is in there too. He always uses that tone in the presence of beautiful women like her.
My wife, no doubt, thinks he's flirting but he's actually conducting a subtle interrogation. He's perfected a dozen techniques for extracting information, some more brutal than others. With my wife, he's opted for charm.
Where is she from? Ah, St. Petersburg. He's heard it's beautiful. What do her parents do? Oh, they're Bratva, how thrilling. How is she enjoying Rome? Oh dear, she's on lockdown. Is she upset about that? No? How nice, she's so understanding.
He's subtly probing her. If he gets around to asking her bra size, I'll punch him in the face.
"Adriano," I greet him drily as I walk into the room.
My cousin looks up and smiles. It's the Volante grin, broad and unapologetic. That smile has got members of my family into and out of trouble in equal measure over the years.
There's no denying Adriano is one of us. He has the same shade of dark brown hair, the distinctive blue eyes. He carries the same air of recklessness my younger brother does. In Lorenzo it's almost endearing but with Adriano there's something far more dangerous.
I flash a look at Lukas who's leaning against the windowsill, a cup of coffee in hand. He shrugs, knowing why I'm wondering why he didn't warn me Adriano was here.
The last time a relative tried to drop in unannounced, I had him turned away.
Lorenzo appeared at the gate one day, completely out of the blue, demanding entry.
He didn't get it. I wasn't ready for what would undoubtedly be an intense conversation about my duties to the family.
I knew he'd take me to task about the years I'd kept my distance.
If he was in Rome, it was probably to visit my mother, who lived in a villa ten kilometers from the city. She wanted to see me.
Both of my brothers made me painfully aware of that, and I couldn't stand another guilt trip. No matter how much it hurt her that I stayed away, it would have been worse if she'd seen me in person. She'd suffered so much in life and I refused to add to her pain.
Close to the end, I relented. I didn't visit her but I called and we talked. It was enough.
Lukas, knowing all this, apparently decided that forewarning me about Adriano would end with me refusing to speak to him. He wasn't wrong. I wouldn't have wanted to see him. But, now my cousin is unavoidably here in my house, making himself at home, I find I'm pleased to see him.
"Your wife has been most hospitable." He takes a bite of his pastry and waves his free hand in Lukas's direction. "She's significantly more welcoming than him."
"Is that so?" I throw Lukas an appreciative glance. At least he made some effort to repel Adriano.
"Yes. Katya and I have been having a nice chat."
"No," Katya says as I pour myself some juice. "You've been interrogating me and I let you."
"Me?" Adriano puts a hand over his heart and affects innocence. "I would never do such a thing."
Katya shakes her head. "I am Russian, remember. We have the best spies in the world. I know all about interrogation techniques and how to plant false information. Do you really think you could seduce my secrets from me?"
Adriano laughs, a genuine bark of amusement that comes from deep inside him.
"I like you."
"Of course you do. I'm a beautiful woman, your number one weakness." She offers him a shark-like smile. "Apart from pastries."
"I don't have a weakness for pastries," Adriano protests.
"Please." Katya rolls her eyes. "You've eaten four since I got here and who knows how many before. You might want to slow it down. Your cholesterol is too high."
"My cholesterol is fine." Adriano pats his abdomen which beneath his shirt is no doubt perfectly toned. "I'm at the peak of physical fitness."
"Tell that to those fatty deposits beneath your eyes," Katya says, waggling her finger at him. "You need to speak to a doctor, my friend, because you are a ticking time bomb."
For a moment, Adriano looks worried. Then he laughs again and turns to me. "You married an assassin."
"She's insightful."
Katya beams and I realize how true that is. She rarely misses a thing.
My wife is good at reading people. Though I'm sure I perplex her at times, she has a better read on me than anyone, apart from Lukas, ever had.
There are moments when I forget how remarkable she is. This is not one of them. Watching her play Adriano at his own game is intoxicating.
"So, why are you here?" I ask Adriano because, as unexpectedly pleasant as this back and forth between them is, he must be here for a reason.
"I have news." He throws a hesitant glance at Katya.
"It's fine," I tell him. I have no problem with him discussing business in front of my wife.
He shakes his head. "Not here, Gabriele."
I get the message. Whatever he has to say is for me alone. Ice fills my veins as I realize there's only one topic he'd feel strongly enough about to insist on keeping private.
"My study." I push my chair back from the table and get to my feet.
My pulse races as Adriano follows me along the corridor. When we reach the study, I cross to the window while he goes directly to the liquor cabinet in the corner of the room. He pours us each a glass of Scotch, hands one to me, then drops onto the sofa.
For a moment, I stare out of the window, watching two of the guards pausing at the east gate to exchange a few words before both continuing on their way. I close my eyes, count to four and turn to Adriano.
"Tell me," I say.
He sips his drink, stalling for time. The delaying tactic in itself tells me all I need to know about the bomb he's going to detonate.
"I found her." Though there's no need to elaborate, he does it anyway. "Eliza."
The name cuts through me like it always does when it surfaces. I've spent three years trying to forget her. It took effort but I pushed her to the back of my mind. I thought I'd buried what remained of her cold dead heart beneath Katya's warmth.
In the weeks it took me to recover from the attack, when the full extent of what had been done to my face was being mapped and assessed by a dozen different doctors, I'd cared little for the wounds themselves.
It was the interior damage that threatened to bring me down, the sense of betrayal.
A woman I'd trusted enough to consider making my bride had led me into a trap. She'd walked away without a backward glance.
"I didn't know you were still looking for her."
"Someone had to."
It's said quietly but there's an edge to his tone. The admonishment is aimed at my brothers. He believes it's their fault I chose not to share the details of my attack with them. He thinks it's because they were never supportive enough for me to trust them with my secrets.
That couldn't be farther from the truth. It's precisely because I know they would have dedicated themselves to making Eliza pay that I told them nothing.
They've done extraordinary things over the last three years, unencumbered with a mission to avenge me. I'm proud of all they've achieved. It wouldn't have been possible if their sole focus had been bringing me Eliza's head on a platter.
I only told Adriano what really happened because he caught me in a moment of weakness at the hospital.
"What have you learned?"
"She's been living in Sydney." He turns his glass slowly in his hand. "She left Rome the night of the ambush, went to the UK for a while then moved to Australia via Ireland. She goes by Elena Marek now."
Eliza Moretti to Elena Marek. It's not such a big difference but enough for her to hide behind for three years.
"And?"
"She works at a café run by Italian immigrants. Cash in hand. She lives in a shabby apartment. Her landlord's a sleaze, not the type to ask for references or bank details."
"Smart girl."
"Yep, she knew how to stay off the radar."
I take a sip of Scotch. The rich smoky flavor soothes me. "So how did you find her?"
"How does anyone find anything these days?" Adriano asks. I shrug and he shakes his head. "Social media. Her boss put a picture on Instagram."
Hmm. It amazes me how naive people can be. Three years of hiding undone by a single photo carelessly shared with the world. I almost feel sorry for her.
"Do we know why she worked with the Hungarians?"
The men who carried out the attack had come from Budapest. Small-time criminals, they stumbled into a significant opportunity when they found a woman willing to hand me over for the right price.
I'd denied them access to the docks at the port of Civitavecchia six months before the attack. It was a business decision, one of dozens I'd made that year. I hadn't thought of it again until I was lying in a hospital bed trying to understand why someone had come after me like that.
"Still working on the why," Adriano says.
"Have you picked her up yet?"
"Wanted to speak to you first."
I look at him. Although Adriano technically works for the family, he's been operating independently for years now, moving between cities, following whatever catches his attention, sending healthy transfers to Damiano each quarter that buy him the latitude to do as he pleases.
The fact that he spent three years quietly running a search he told no one about is either loyalty or stubbornness. With Adriano, the two are often indistinguishable.
"You're here for long?" I ask, buying time while I try to decide what I want to happen next.
"Heading to Florence tonight." He rolls his head from one side to the other, stretching his neck. "It's been a while since I rattled Benito's cage."
His brother, Benito, works closely with Lorenzo.
"He works on the vineyard now."
"I know." Adriano's sour tone is consistent with the way his mouth turns down at the corners. "He's following Lorenzo's path onto the straight and narrow."
"Everyone's settling down."
"Even you." Adriano shakes his head as if he can't believe it. "Et tu, Gabriele?"
"It's just an arrangement." That sounds hollow even to my own ears.
"Sure," Adriano scoffs. "I like her by the way. Katya." He pauses for a moment. "Great tits."
Though I know he's joking, I growl. "Don't make me kill you."
He laughs again. "Lukas told me to behave around her." He sets his glass down on the coffee table in front of him. "But you're avoiding the topic. What do you want me to do with her?"
"Pick her up," I say. "Bring her back."
"And then?"
Now, that is the million dollar question.
"Do whatever the hell you want with her."
Adriano nods as if he was hoping for precisely that answer. I don't know what I'm condemning Eliza to but the gleam in his eye tells me it won't be pleasant.
He picks up his glass, drains it and gets to his feet. Now he's got what he came here for he won't hang around.
When he reaches the door, he pauses.
"What will you tell her about all this?" he asks. "Your wife. She's going to ask."
"I don't know," I tell him honestly. The last thing I want is for the past to taint my relationship with Katya. Since my birthday, things have been going well.
When Adriano nods and leaves, I sit at my desk and nurse my Scotch. My hand trembles as I pick up the glass. I close my eyes and count slowly to ten. It doesn't work. The tremor grows. With a furious roar, I fling the glass against the door.
Fuck.