Chapter Twenty-Nine #3
His mind continued operating even while another part of him remained fixed on the order.
You bring her.
When the meeting finally ended, Mauro left first.
At the door he paused beside Taddeo and lowered his voice enough that Cesare would not hear unless he chose to.
“For what it's worth, if somebody told me I had to hand over a woman I wanted, I'd probably make a very bad decision.”
Taddeo looked at him. “That is why no one asks you to make important emotional decisions.”
Mauro's mouth curved faintly. “Still. Thought I'd offer support.”
“Your support is unsettling.”
“It usually is.”
Mauro left.
Orsino remained behind while Cesare spoke with one of the operations men near the windows. Taddeo gathered the security files from the table, sliding them into a leather folder more carefully than necessary.
Orsino approached. “You agreed.”
Taddeo did not look up. “Yes.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I am not.”
“You look like you want someone to tell you the order is impossible so you can resist it without admitting what you are resisting.”
Taddeo closed the folder. “Do you have useful advice?”
“Yes.” Orsino lowered his voice. “Do not tell yourself obeying Cesare is the same thing as choosing what is right for Isolde.”
Taddeo's eyes lifted.
“I know what Cesare has been to you,” Orsino continued. “I also know you have spent the last month discovering that gratitude does not transfer ownership of every choice you make until you die.”
“That is not what this is.”
“Perhaps not.” Orsino's expression remained calm. “But if you decide to bring Isolde because it is operationally sound, say that. If you bring her because Cesare ordered it, say that. Do not combine the two until you can no longer tell which one actually moved you.”
Taddeo stared at him for several seconds.
Orsino touched his shoulder once, brief and paternal enough to make Taddeo dislike the gesture only slightly. “You have become very good at understanding what the problem is. The next part is usually less pleasant.”
He left before Taddeo could tell him to go to hell.
Cesare approached after the room emptied.
For a moment neither man spoke.
Then Cesare looked toward the closed conference-room door. “I am not trying to take something from you.”
Taddeo's jaw tightened. “She is not something I have.”
Cesare's expression changed faintly. “Good.”
The answer irritated him.
Cesare continued before he could respond. “Then act like it.”
Taddeo looked away.
“You believe I do not understand what she means to you,” Cesare said. “I do.”
“No, you understand that I am attached to her.”
“I understand more than you think.” Cesare adjusted one cuff, the movement ordinary against a conversation that was anything but.
“I also understand that if she leaves with Corwin and never comes back, you will continue functioning. You will hate it. You may hate me for a while. You will still be Taddeo.”
“That is supposed to help?”
“No.” Cesare's mouth tightened. “It is supposed to remind you that losing something you love does not make every decision preventing the loss justified.”
The lesson sounded painfully familiar.
Taddeo almost laughed.
Isolde had somehow managed to recruit his boss into the argument without being present.
Cesare watched him. “Bring her to the exchange. Secure it. Recover the money and evidence. Get Corwin out of Crownport under terms we control. Then let the situation end.”
Taddeo looked at the man who had given him almost everything after Marcello's death.
“Yes.”
The answer cost more than Cesare knew.
Or perhaps exactly as much as Cesare knew.
Taddeo left Bellandi House alone because Isolde had already been sent back to Northglass with Marco after Cesare briefly confirmed the authenticity of Corwin's proposal and told her that no exchange would happen without security arrangements.
She had not argued, which worried Taddeo more than if she had insulted Cesare to his face.
The drive back seemed shorter than the trip into the city.
By the time the Northglass gates opened, darkness had begun gathering over the coast, turning the sea beyond the house almost black. Taddeo watched the gate close behind his vehicle and felt the mechanism differently than he had every other day of his life.
Isolde was somewhere inside.
For now.
He found her in the library.
The investigation materials from that morning remained stacked across the long table, though she had cleared enough space to sit near the windows with her mother's green scarf folded beside her and a museum journal open in front of her.
She looked up when Taddeo entered and immediately read the answer in his face.
Still, she waited for him to say it.
Taddeo closed the door behind himself but remained near it. He did not cross the room, did not touch her, and did not use the false comfort of proximity to make the words easier.
“We're making the exchange,” he said, and because one sentence did not contain enough truth to deserve standing by itself, he forced himself to continue. “Cesare ordered me to bring you, and I agreed.”