Chapter 10 Royal
ROYAL
LATE NITE BYTES
She said yes. I can’t believe she said yes.
Obviously she was going to say yes. My wolf wags his tail in anticipatory excitement.
Some dumbass started his thirty-hour 3D print job in the morning rather than in the evening. Which means said dumbass has to be up late when the custom modifications on an order of high-caliber sniper rifles finish cooling to start another load.
It’s me. I’m the dumbass.
Out here in one of our warehouses, I have a temperature-controlled office specifically for these machines.
The setup is similar to my main office, but it’s not as fancy and has the various 3D printers.
Being away from home late at night isn’t great, but there’s only so much room in Mom and Dad’s basement.
The cool-down timer is keeping perfect time, but my brain is making it seem as though seconds are dragging. I check the camera feed in Casa D’Medici again. The SUV hasn’t pulled up to the parking garage yet.
I absolutely hate that I can’t track where she is.
I’m so used to having everyone I care for at my fingertips that now with her, I feel reverted back to the time of dial-up internet that cut off the telephone to the house, playing video games with a wired controller, and, god forbid, printing driving directions.
Should I feel guilty for putting spyware in the link I sent her for this call? I don’t feel guilty. When she clicks the link, I’ll have access to her phone, everything she does on it, and her location at all times.
It’s necessary. My wolf doesn’t care about guilt, only that we have the access.
I look at the screen, watching the parking garage again.
If I should feel guilty, I absolutely don’t. It’s not like I’ll sell her data to a third party.
The timer on my printer beeps, signaling that it’s done, and the door auto unlocks. I start to unload it and quality inspect each piece. After every piece, I look for the SUV I saw on Valor’s home security system to turn up at the parking garage.
I’ve packed up the entire batch when the SUV finally pulls up out front of the skyscraper that the D’Medici’s own in Gold Coast. The driver opens her door for her, and she steps out, the black parka covering her beautiful blue dress.
Her blonde hair spills out over the dark fabric, and it catches the artificial light, making it look like liquid gold.
In a few short steps, the doorman opens the front door to the building. I didn’t expect her to use the formal front entrance, but it makes more sense when I flick to the lobby’s interior camera view.
Berto and Gregorio are standing in the lobby waiting for her.
The hair on the back of my neck rises. Why hadn’t I thought to check in on them while she wasn’t home? I force myself to forget that thought. I can’t monitor everyone at every second of the day.
“Dad? Berto? What’s wrong? Where’s Mom?” Leticia looks back and forth between them.
The lobby camera is doing its job flawlessly.
“She’s in bed, let’s go upstairs.” Gregorio gestures for Leticia to lead the way.
They bypass the front elevators and head straight to the penthouse executive one. The elevator camera doesn’t have sound, but it doesn’t matter because no one is talking.
They don’t make it two feet into the house before they pounce. The foyer camera picks up the video feed and collects audio as it bounces around the space in an echo.
Her brother demands first, “What did you learn at dinner?”
“Valor’s house is nice and Antonella seems happy.” Leticia answers quickly and quietly. “Is that all this is? You’re questioning me because I had dinner with Antonella?”
“And Valor Cavanagh.” Gregorio, her father, adds to her statement. “What did you talk about?”
“Antonella’s job, what it’s like learning to spell a new last name, Kerrianne’s tortoise, and how good the food was.” She rattles off the highlights of dinner.
And us. My wolf tries to add. He should see the conversation for what it is: an interrogation.
It sets my jaw tight.
“Don’t be silly. Surely he pushed you for information on us.” Gregorio narrows his eyes as he steps toward her.
Why should she tell you what they talked about? Is it a truce or isn’t it, Gregorio? I debate starting a recording.
See how she handles it first. My wolf encourages me to have faith in her.
“Honestly, I don’t think Antonella gives two cares in the world what you’re doing. You’re the one who forced her to be married off when she called the truce, and she’s forgotten your existence.” Leticia is fierce, making her dad take a second and putting him on his heels.
Atta girl. I smile but then see the cracks in her armor. Tight shoulders and clenched fingers. It’s false bravado.
“Surely she asked for any information at all.” Berto wraps an arm around her and leads her from the foyer to a formal sitting room. I bring up the camera feed and hear what must be the tail end of a question. “Even something small like how we’re doing?”
“The only time you came up was when she asked if I was still going to Christmas in Italy or if I was staying home.” Leticia shrugs him off and, with a yawn, perches on the arm of the sofa.
“Of course you’re coming to Christmas.” Gregorio tosses his head as if insulted.
“But do I have to? I don’t exactly travel the greatest.” Leticia is different at that moment. Like she’s lying.
Making excuses to stay home? My wolf cants his head, first one way and then the other.
“I get so sick, and you’re only gone for two and a half weeks. I’ll spend most of the time puking my guts up and being exhausted.” Leticia places her hand over her stomach as if to prove her point. “It’s hardly any fun for anyone.”
“This is true.” Gregorio paces back and forth across the room. “We can’t have that. You should stay home.”
Leticia stiffens. Perhaps surprised?
I lean in to watch more closely.
Then she looks at Berto, it’s just the slightest move of her head, maybe to not draw attention. Suspicious maybe?
But when neither man moves or makes any corrections, she gestures off into the penthouse toward the kitchen, stepping away from the two men. “Well, that’s settled then. Am I dismissed? Can I prepare for tomorrow?”
“Yes. I’m off to bed.” Gregorio draws a deep breath and lets out the most exaggerated yawn I’ve ever seen.
I split my monitor view and follow Gregorio and Berto as they head to the second floor of the penthouse, presumably to their bedrooms, and Leticia as she walks through the grandeur of the first floor to the kitchen.
After a few steps, she heads back to the foyer, takes off her jacket, hangs up her purse, and pulls out her phone.
In contrast to the beauty of the flowy dress, she crouches down to almost her knees and lurks around the staircase, nearly getting down on all fours and going up to the top to look down the hallway.
She sees what I see — closed doors and family members tucked away.
She pumps her fist once before sneaking back down the stairs and, at the bottom, dusts off the dress skirt and walks much more confidently back to the kitchen.
Smart girl. My wolf thuds his tail and lies down, less alarmed by the ambush she walked into.
But will she still call? An empty ache settles in my body. I leave the volume on for the call system I sent her the invite through, but rather than wait and be disappointed, I busy myself with setting up the next print run.
The generic call alert filters through my speakers right as I open the container of cleaning solution. I almost drop it when I rush back to my chair. I click accept as fast as I can but try to compose myself.
“Hello and welcome to the air. I’m your host, Royal.” I try to play the funny guy on the radio station, but now I’m wondering if she’ll understand the joke.
“And I’m Leticia, and this is Late Nite Bytes.” She finishes as if we’ve done this a dozen times before. She pulls her phone away from her ear, and I see the telltale tap of selecting speakerphone.
“So, Leticia, how’s your night? Get home okay?” I try to probe without being suspicious.
She sighs, and I open up the view of the kitchen, where she’s tying on an apron.
“I’m fine. Home is fine. I got the third degree from Dad and Berto when I came home, but that’s expected. They can’t accept that the truce happened and there is no ulterior motive anymore.” Her voice isn’t as crisp through speakerphone.
There isn’t? I keep that as an inside thought. She doesn’t need to know that I still plan on helping Valor get revenge for some of the terrible things the D’Medicis have done. They don’t relate to her.
“Well, no ulterior motive here. I’m glad to have someone to keep me company.”
I double-check that the malware I sent to her phone is capturing the data I need while sliding on my headset.
“Yeah.” Her voice leaves the speakers and transmits through my headset. “What are you doing up so late? Or is it a classified type project?”
“I’m doing a 3D printing run on some metal pieces for a modification on— It’s parts for guns.” I opt to avoid overwhelming her with unnecessary information.
“Hey, you don’t have to simplify it for me. I’ve got a complete understanding of mechanical kitchen gadgets,” she sasses, and it’s the adorable, fun kind, not the defensiveness that she has with her father.
“It’s a modification for a sniper rifle’s trigger system that causes less wear and tear on the gun and helps maintain accuracy.
The other modifications like it on the market aren’t much better than the original product, but I found a way to alter it so that it’s a steadier squeeze rather than a sharp jerk.
” I explain the basics without trying to brag.
“Dang, cute and smart,” Leticia says softly.
She said we’re cute. My wolf preens.
I look at the camera and see her with a scale and bowl, measuring something. “Cute and smart? Are you talking about yourself?”