by Jillian Dodd
"Huntley, what are you doing here?" he asks with a grin. "Trying to crash the big boys' party?"
"No, thought I'd shop and see the sights. You know, girlie stuff."
He and Aleksandr laugh while I greet Viktor. "How are you?"
"Fine," he says gruffly, but he looks anything but. He's disheveled.
"I'm really sorry for your loss."
"Come see the view on the balcony," he tells me, suddenly looking perkier. "It's wonderful."
I follow him out a set of French doors, which I notice he closes behind us. It immediately puts me on edge, my training kicking in.
"I'd like to talk to you in private," he says, quickly explaining. I nod in reply, so he continues, "I'm really not doing well. If I don't talk to someone about it, I'm going to burst. Can I trust you, Huntley?"
"Yes, of course."
"Good, because I think only you will understand."
"Why's that?"
"Because your father didn't love you enough either."
What he says stings, I will admit.
"Are you saying your father doesn't love you?"
He sighs and nervously jingles some change in his trousers. "He does; sometimes, it just feels ... conditional. Although he seems to love you. So, maybe you can help me figure out what to do."
"Okay."
"While it's true I hid out in Lake Como after Ophelia's death and refused to talk to the press, it's not because I was heartbroken. That didn't start until Clarice was killed."
"What are you saying?" I ask, pretending to be confused. "That you loved Clarice?"
"Yes. This is going to sound horrible of me, and I'm sickened by my choices. Ophelia and I were dating. We got in a wicked fight at a party. Clarice and I ended up together in bed that night. Of course, we were ashamed of ourselves, but at the same time, we were both incredibly happy. She was amazing, not the airhead her sister had made her out to be. Not only was there intense physical attraction, but we also had the same values and goals in life."
"But you proposed to Ophelia. In front of everyone."
"She made me."
"How?"
"Blackmail, I guess. Clarice and I were seeing each other while I tried to break it off with Ophelia. She refused to allow it. Said she needed a man like me to take her rightful place in Montrovia. That made no sense until she mentioned that it was up to her to have heirs. That if, God forbid, something ever happened to Lorenzo, she would have to rule as well as continue the royal bloodline. She told me I would make a fine king.
"I remember making a joke that Lorenzo didn't seem to have a problem with finding women. She got mad at me. Stormed off. But, the next day, she came to me and bared her soul. About how, even though she had hated her father with a passion, he had instilled in her a duty to her country before he died. She was worried that, if Lorenzo continued his playboy ways and never settled down, the royal legacy would be up to her. She told me that, together, we could bring about the kind of change that her sister and I had been talking about in bed."
"Oh, wow," I blurt out. "She knew?"
"Yeah, she did. Remember the Terra Project that Clarice was talking about when we all first met?"
"The peaceful initiative that sounded a little like socialism?"
"It's not that at all. At university, I took a conservation class and learned of the Terra Project. It's a purposeful way of living without further damaging our environment as well as a place where money doesn't matter.
"In case you haven't figured it out, money and power were something our fathers were obsessed with. I've often wondered if that's what caused Ares to go recluse. I didn't see a lot of him, but the last time I did, we spoke of the fact that it would be up to my generation to fix the sins of our forefathers against nature. That, if we didn't do something, we'd be facing critical mass in relation to our population. Isn't it crazy to think we could treat the place we live with so much disrespect that we cause our own extinction?"
I nod my head, agreeing with him, but don't say anything since he seems to be on a roll.
"Anyway, I've been financially supporting the Terra Project. Can you imagine what would happen if my father, who builds ships of war, found out? If it publicly got out?"
"People would think you're awesome," I tease, trying to lighten the mood.
"Ophelia threatened that, if I didn't propose, she would tell my father of my treachery. I didn't intend to go through with a wedding, but I needed time to figure things out. You saw how I was sweating. Proposing to her was the last thing I wanted to do, especially in front of the girl I loved."
"Is that why Clarice was talking about it so much? Was she threatening you, too?"
"No. Don't laugh, but she called me her Terra Man. She was just making me feel guilty."
"Your proposal seemed very stiff. More like a business arrangement than love."
"That's because it was."
"There you are," Viktor's father says, coming out onto the balcony and placing a hand on each of our shoulders. "What are you two conspiring about?"
Viktor coughs, not sure what to say, but I was trained to lie.
"Well, if you must know, I was trying to convince him to tell me what will take place at your top-secret meeting tomorrow."
Aleksandr studies my face. "You're lying."
"Okay, fine. We were talking about Ophelia."
"For the best, if you ask me," Aleksandr states, causing both my and Viktor's eyes to widen in surprise.
He curses in Russian, then says, "That sounded very heartless of me. I did not mean that I am glad she is dead. I am just happy my son doesn't have to marry her." He pats his son's shoulder in a fatherly way. "You are much too young."
"I'm younger than he is," I say in Viktor's defense. "Yet you have suggested that Lorenzo might be the one for me."
"Well, if he had looked at Ophelia the way Lorenzo looks at you, I would have been all for their pairing."
"On that note," Viktor says, rolling his eyes, "I think I'll be getting a drink."
"Ah," Aleksandr says, exasperated, "father and sons. It is a tenuous relationship."
"At least your son doesn't hate you," I say.
"Huntley," he says gently, "don't hate your father. Ares was truly a great man."
"Yeah, well, I wouldn't know," I reply, leaving him standing on the balcony alone.
I've barely stepped inside when Daniel wraps an arm around my neck and kisses me on the lips.
"Huntley, whatever are you doing here? Worried to let Lorenzo out of your sight?"
I can't help but smile. He's such a smart-ass.
"Actually, I heard you were coming, so I baked a pizza."
He puts his nose up into the air and sniffs. "Don't smell one."
"Fine. I thought you were in Omaha."
"You haven't been listening closely, Huntley. I said I was going to Omaha. What I didn't tell you was that I'd be traveling a circuitous route by way of Rome."
"Ah, yes. The big boys' secret club."
He taps his finger on my nose and whispers sexily in my ear, "You're not supposed to know about that."
I swear, every word that comes out of his mouth, regardless of what he's talking about, is flirtatious and filled with innuendo.
"Did I mention, I forgot to book a hotel room and need a place to crash?"
"My room will probably be free if you need it," I reply with a smile.
"Seriously, did you not hear anything I told you?"
"And what did you tell her, Daniel?" Lorenzo asks, sneaking up from behind us.
"That you'd break her heart, of course," Daniel says seriously as he walks away, pantomiming dropping a mic.
Lorenzo looks at me with concern. "Do you believe that?"
"Honestly, no. I think I'm the one who will break your heart."
"Are you having second thoughts about us?"
"Not at all."
"Then?"
I don't say anything to him. I don't have to. He knows my mission.
For
tunately, Peter joins us, greeting me and leading me to the dinner table where I'm seated with him on my left and Daniel on my right. Lorenzo takes up a spot directly across from me with Viktor and Ari flanking him. Malcolm and Aleksandr are seated at the heads of the table.
Peter rambles on about everything and nothing while Daniel keeps tapping the side of my foot with his, reminding me of his presence even though he is conversing with Malcolm.
During the second course, as I turn toward Daniel, Lorenzo addresses the group, "Is it just me, or are you all dying to know what's going on tomorrow?"
The boys all nod in agreement, causing Malcolm and Aleksandr to grin.
"Fine, we'll tell you what to expect," Malcolm says.
I set my napkin on the table, stand up, and say politely, "I think that's my cue to leave."
I thought that the men would try to stop me, but instead, they both nod in agreement. I swallow back my anger.
I am Huntley Von Allister, who isn't concerned with anything more than who will fill my glass with champagne. And that Huntley manages to slip out of the dining room without flipping the group off.
But Huntley Bond can't help but let the door slam on her way out.
I could use my eavesdropping app to listen to every word they say, but that would mean I'd have to stand out in the hall, looking pathetic, break into the suite next door, or climb onto the balcony. None of which I'm prepared to do.
Instead, I go into my room and put on something much more comfortable than the tight dress and heels I am wearing--black yoga pants, trainers, and a workout bra. I tie a jacket around my waist, put my hair in a ponytail, and go for a run, which is tricky on the cobbled streets of Rome.
Regardless, running feels good. At Blackwood, there was no working out on a treadmill, like Huntley Von Allister does. We ran outside whether it was raining or snowing, in freezing conditions or blazing heat.
I end up standing in front of the Bernini Ristorante on the Piazza Navona, longingly looking at the sign and practically tasting the lasagna.
"Would you like a table?" I hear a man's voice say.
"Yes, thank you." I pull my jacket over my bra top to make myself look more presentable and then allow him to pull a chair out for me to be seated.
"You look familiar," he says. "You have dined at my restaurant before, yes? With your mother. I remember saying you looked so much alike."
"Six years ago," I reply. "You have a good memory, Antonio."
"As do you." He smiles. "I remember all my customers, for each one is a delight to serve. You also came back twice. Once by yourself, which I thought was a bit odd in regard to your young age."
"My mother had a meeting just over there." I point to the Fontana dei Quattro Fiumi, known as the Fountain of the Four Rivers.
"That's right. You had lasagna, and we talked about the history of this great piazza."
I smile at him. "Is Mama still well?"
"Ah, yes," he says. "As usual, she is in the kitchen. Would you like her lasagna again tonight?"
"Very much so."
While he runs inside to turn in my order, I take a moment to stare out at the beautiful piazza, the history of the place quickly coming back to me. It sits on the site of the Stadium of Domitian, which was built in the first century AD.
I remember the story of how Bernini and Borromini were both great architects of their time and well-known rivals. The story goes that Borromini was commissioned to design the square, but when Bernini caught wind of it, he designed a silver model of the fountain he wanted to build and gave it to the sister-in-law of the pope, ensuring that she would show it off. The pope was so enamored with the design, he took the job away from Borromini and gave it to Bernini.
It seems that men in all periods of time are always vying for power.
I'm brought a glass of wine and told it's on the house. It's late, nearly closing time, and there is only one other group of patrons, who are just finishing up their meal.
As soon as they leave, he puts the Closed sign up and sits down at my table with a glass of wine. "Is your mother well?"
I close my eyes and shake my head. "She died shortly after we were here."
"And what brings you to Rome?"
"Do you remember how you told me about the rivalry between Borromini and Bernini?"
"Ah, yes, of course. Such a scandal."
"My mother was a covert agent. She took a vacation and was looking into something on her own. Something that brought us here and something that got her killed." I take a gulp of my wine. "She was assassinated, Antonio. In front of me."
Antonio's eyes widen in surprise, but it's quickly replaced with compassion. He reaches out and puts his hand atop mine. While it's comforting, I notice that his eyes are squinted, and he's biting his lip, seemingly trying to decide if he should tell me something or not.
"Your mother left an item here that night. It has been hanging on the wall of Mama's kitchen ever since. I have been tempted to read it many times over the years, but I promised her that I would not. She told me that it was only to be given to someone who came looking for it. Are you looking for it?"
"Yes, and no. I have a type of amnesia. I very clearly remember the bullet entering my mother's forehead, but I can't remember the trip we took before that. Recently, I found photos of our trip, and I've been trying to piece together what she discovered that got her killed. As I've been doing so, snippets of memories are returning. I didn't plan to come here tonight. There was no photo of your restaurant. I was just drawn to the place. To you."
"If she was killed for something she knew, maybe it is for the best that you don't remember."
I shake my head. "The problem is, if I don't figure it out, a lot of people might die."
He takes a sip of his wine and seems to contemplate this. Then he sets down his glass and rises from the table without a word. When he returns, he presents me with a dish of steaming lasagna along with my bill.
I let out a sigh, knowing that I'll have to break in later and search Mama's kitchen.
But, in the meantime, I'm going to enjoy the delicate homemade noodles layered with meat sauce and cheese.
Antonio allows me to eat in silence as he does his closing routine of cleaning the area around the tables and other busywork.
When I finish eating, I lean back and take my last sip of wine. Then I flip over the bill to see how much I owe him. But, when I do, I find my mother's handwriting and a list of letters that seems to be nothing more than gibberish.
"Is it what you were expecting?" he asks.
I shake my head. "No."
He sits back across from me and eyes it. "She did tell me something else."
"What was that?"
"That 'society rules.'"
I smile broadly and stand up. Grabbing some euros out of my pocket, I lay them on the table.
"Oh no, my bella. Tonight, your meal is on the house."
"Grazie, Antonio," I say, kissing his cheek. "Thank Mama for the wonderful meal."
I start to take off but then turn back around. "I remember my mother was sitting at the fountain. She told me that she had a meeting, yet I don't recall her meeting anyone."
"I believe she was sitting at the fountain, taking notes. I was busy, serving guests, but I managed to keep an eye on her. I thought she might be meeting with a lover and was eager to see what he looked like."
"Do you remember exactly where she was sitting?"
"But of course." He grabs his jacket and walks me across the piazza to the fountain. "Her profile was to the restaurant, but I could see her clearly. Sit down here."
Directly in front of me is the Sant'Agnese in Agone, a beautiful baroque cathedral.
"Now, look up," Antonio says.
I do, immediately noticing a pair of bell towers set on either side of a large dome. "Can we go up there?" I ask.
"It is not open to the public, but the men who care for the bells do go up there. And I have seen others there from time to time."
"What kind of others?"
"Members of the clergy and very important benefactors."
"Thank you. I've got to get going, but I'll see you soon."
"Ciao, bella," he says, kissing my cheeks. "I will hold you to that."
I race back to the hotel, running the entire way and knowing that it's possible I'm in possession of a short list of names of those involved in the conspiracy.
I'm breathless when I swing open the door to the suite my brother and I are sharing. Lorenzo, Peter, and Viktor are seated in the parlor while Ari is pacing.
"Do you have any idea what time it is?" Ari says. "Where have you been?"
I clutch the necklace Lorenzo gave me, knowing, if he were really that worried, he would know exactly where to find me. But I can't say that out loud.
"I went for a run and grabbed some dinner. Believe it or not, I can take care of myself while you boys save the world with your meeting."
"You're being ridiculous. You know that, right?" Daniel says, stepping out of what is supposed to be my bedroom.
"Why were you in my room?"
"Slumber party apparently," he says with a smirk, waving his hand at the group gathered. "Aren't you the lucky girl?"
"I'm tired. It's been a really long day. You boys have a good party without me. Peter, be sure to braid Daniel's hair. That's his favorite thing."
When I go into my room, I see that Daniel has completely taken it over, and my stuff is gone.
Lorenzo joins me. "I had your clothing moved to my suite. Would you care to retire now?"
"Yes, please."
I give the boys my best and tell them to behave, then go with Lorenzo to his suite.
"Is Juan here?" I ask him.
"He is, but he has retired to his room, as have the rest of my security. While we usually take the whole floor to ensure privacy and safety, it's kind of fun, having Ari and Peter down the hall."
I pull Lorenzo close and whisper into his ear, "Was the room swept for electronic surveillance?"
"But of course. As per protocol, my staff has also installed countermeasures to stop any attempts from the outside. And you know that my phone is secure."
I plop down on the couch. "Are all The Society meetings held in Rome? I know your father was a member. What did he tell you about it?"
"Nothing. It's a secret, remember?"
"And what about Rome?"
"I can ask, but they haven't told me as of yet. I guess I will find out when the next meeting is set."
"I remembered something today. When my mother and I were in Florence, someone was following us. I noticed him first at the hotel we were staying at, and then again when we were in the Ponte Vecchio, and again in a church. My mom said I'd missed seeing him at the Basilica di San Lorenzo. She had me pretend to faint, and when the staff carried me into a room outside the public area, we snuck out from there."
