Forbidden Kiss

by Shannon Leigh

  Rom thought of her at the villa alone and had a thought. “Do you know how to use a gun?”

  Jule narrowed her eyes, still mad over being left. “No.”

  “Then I’m leaving the dagger.” He nodded to the knife still lying sheathed on the table. “Take good care of it, will you?”

  He didn’t expect a response and wasn’t surprised when he didn’t get one. It was time Jule Casale got used to the idea of where she came from.

  “I’ll be back before dark. Stick close to the villa and for Christ’s sake, be careful.”

  His last image of her before closing the door was her back as she poured another cup of coffee.

  Rom made it back into Verona before noon and parked his rental on the other side town before walking to one of the oldest residences in the city.

  He had a favor to call in.

  The three-story house had undergone some changes since he’d last walked through its arched front door, but Rom recognized the palazzo of one of the wealthiest merchant families in Verona. Its stone and marble façade rose stoically to greet the dull winter sky and statues stood guard over the street from the roof.

  He’d talked to some neighbors and nearby shopkeepers to discover the current owner’s name. Still in the Orti family, thankfully. If the man of the house, Luigi, were made from the same stuff he knew previous Orti’s to be, Rom would be in business.

  “Rom Montgomery to see Luigi Orti,” he announced to the man answering the door. He provided a card and after careful scrutiny, the man let him in. He showed Rom into a high ceilinged, frescoed foyer with an ascending staircase and then into a side room. The formal parlor.

  It was still the same place he’d visited before leaving Verona all those years ago.

  Laughter filtered down the stairs from the floor above. Happy Saturday morning children’s laughter that said life was grand on a weekend out of school and with family.

  “Aspettare un secondo,” said a voice descending the stairs. Wait just a second.

  “No!” came the reply.

  Then childish giggles and someone, from the sound of it a young boy under the age of five, collapsed on the stairs and declared he’d wait for his father to return.

  Seconds later, a tall and lanky well-dressed man walked through the high double doors and into the parlor.

  “Luigi Orti.”

  His handshake was firm and commanding, but genial. Rom liked him immediately.

  “Rom Montecchi.”

  Orti’s chin lifted a degree at hearing the Montecchi name. An old name, as old as Orti.

  “How may I help you, Mr. Montecchi?” Orti asked as he gestured for them to sit.

  Once seated in facing chairs next to a floor to ceiling French window, Rom met Orti’s stare and bluntly asked for the stranger’s help.

  “Our families were close long ago, our fathers, brothers, and compatriots against the tide of unfavorable changes in the city.”

  Orti nodded. Rom didn’t tell him anything that wasn’t already textbook material for school children.

  “The Montecchis helped the Ortis when help was needed most. Romeo,” Rom paused briefly. Speaking of himself in third person was always disconcerting. “Did a great service for your family and restored your patriarch, Alberto, during a time of crisis.

  I’m here to call in that favor.”

  To Orti’s credit, he didn’t flinch. He laughed, making his dark eyes twinkle.

  “You really are Montecchi, aren’t you?” His merriment wound down, but the twinkle remained. “Only someone with Montecchi pallas, eh, balls, would come in here unannounced and ask to call in a six hundred year old favor.”

  Rom merely watched him, undecided how to take the man’s reaction.

  “We thought you were all dead. Where have you been hiding yourself, friend?”

  “America,” Rom replied.

  “Si,” Orti said, nodding sympathetically. “What do you want? An introduction back into Veronese society? It’s not as difficult as it once was.”

  Rom shook his head.

  “Oh. Well. I hope you don’t plan to try to blackmail me, my friend, because as you surely recall, Orti’s don’t stand for such cowardly behavior.”

  Orti no longer smiled and the twinkle in his eyes turned hard like black glass.

  “I wouldn’t think of treating an old friend that way,” Rom said casually. “What I need is information. And as I recall, that’s what the Ortis were good at. Am I still correct in my assumption?”

  Guarded now, Orti nodded.

  “Good. I need to find out about another American in Verona. Pio Mascaro. He followed an associate of mine here and is proving to be a problem. I want to find out what he’s up to.”

  “You think he’s calling in favors as well?”

  Rom shrugged. “He’s very wealthy and a lawyer. He’s also dangerous.”

  Orti pursed his lips and stared out the window. Rom heard noise on the stairs signaling the end of the child’s patience.

  “We’ll find out what we can. And then the debt will be paid in full, I think.”

  Orti stood just as a dark headed five-year-old ran into the room, hurtling himself into his papa’s arms.

  The child was a miniature of his father. Rom felt a block of ice crack and break away from his heart. Father and son. An image he had once pictured himself in, but put away like so many others.

  “I behaved and now it’s time to play,” he boy said proudly.

  “Indeed,” said his father, looking at Rom over the top of his son’s head.

  “I’ll be in touch in twenty-four hours,” Rom said as they walked to the foyer.

  “Yes. And then we’ll talk. Perhaps start a modern day Orti-Montecchi association, no?” His smile was back, but subtler, hinting at a core of strength beneath the happy family man.

  “Or Montecchi-Orti association?”

  Orti laughed out loud and his son, tickled by his papa’s mirth, laughed too.

  …

  “You did what?” Natala’s loud shout over the phone made Jule smile. Thank God she could count on Natala to put things into perspective.

  “Broke the longest standing abstinence record in history,” Jule teased, a little embarrassed to be talking about her and Rom with anybody else besides him.

  “And?” Natala prompted.

  “Natala, I thought I’d died and gone on a multi-million dollar shopping spree on the Miracle Mile.”

  Natala burst out laughing, shouting so loud Jule had to pull the phone away from her ear.

  “You did not! Stop teasing.”

  “I did too.”

  “God, Jule. I told you. I knew he was the one.”

  Jule stilled, Natala’s remark hitting a little too close to home.

  “So what’s going on now? Are you working or taking a sex vacation?”

  “Oh, I’m working all right. Come to find out Rom is working on the same thing, coming at it from a little different angle, but we’ve formed a partnership. Time will tell if it was wise or not.”

  “Yeah, but in the mean time, have fun.”

  Jule steered the conversation to home. “How’s it going there?”

  “Oh,” Natala stalled. Obviously not well. “Mom and Dad are totally freaked about you leaving and the press has been going crazy about Pio. Apparently he’s been doing shady business deals for years—duh! no surprise there—and someone finally figured it out. The city and even some feds are putting a lot of questions to Dad. They want their money back. Fat chance they’ll get it.”

  Crap. Although angry and hurt, Jule didn’t want to see her family suffer more than they already had.

  “It sucks, but Dad has some new lawyer, a guy named Valerio who seems to know what’s going on. You’d like the guy, I think.”

  Valerio? He was going to help her father? Why?

  Rom.

  Jule didn’t see any sense in telling Natala about Pio being in Verona. It would only serve to scare and worry her. She’d let the authoritie
s handle him.

  “Tell Mom and Dad not to worry. I’m fine.”

  “You know they will anyway, but I’ll tell them.”

  “And, maybe it would be better not to mention anything about Rom for the time being.” Jule just didn’t want to share the information with her father. He’d lost that right when he’d taken Pio’s blood money.

  “Take care of yourself, sis,” Natala said. Jule could feel her sister’s embrace across thousands of miles of ocean. “I mean it.”

  Jule laughed and hung up the phone. Max, who’d been lying at her feet throughout the conversation, stood suddenly and growled at the door. The hairs on the back of Jule’s neck rose in response.

  It was too early for Rom to be back. Maybe an animal wondering down from the woods?

  She looked at the sheathed dagger on the table where she’d pushed it to the center, far out of reach. With a deep breath, she picked it up and slipped it free from the leather.

  It felt warm in her hand. Weighty, but right. That scared the hell out of her.

  “Let’s go see what the ruckus is, Max,” she whispered to the dog. He rose to his feet and headed to the door ahead of Jule.

  As soon as she opened it, he bounded out and around the side of the house.

  Great. She’d lost her protector. But she had the knife. Not that she thought she could use it if confronted.

  “Max!” she called, following the sounds of his barking to the rear of the villa.

  She made it to the back just in time to catch a glimpse of color disappearing through the trees, leaving branches swaying in its wake.

  “Max!” Jule shouted again, catching his attention this time. He bounded back and sat on his hind legs, forcing his head under her hand, his favorite position these last hours.

  “What was it boy? Something I should worry about?” Or just a deer fleeing the mighty hunter here?

  Jule figured if Max wasn’t too worried, she probably shouldn’t be either. They turned back to the front of the villa, but Jule keep the dagger handy.

  Just in case.

  …

  Rom brushed past Rossi’s secretary and opened the door to the man’s office without knocking.

  Rossi sat behind his desk, his ear pressed to the phone while he furiously scribbled notes on a pad. His eyebrows shot up into his hairline as Rom shut the door behind him and took a seat.

  “Someone just came into my office. Let me call you back,” he told the person on the other end of the phone. Dropping the earpiece into its cradle, he sat back and surveyed Rom.

  “And what can I do for you, Mr. Montgomery?”

  “You can tell me how Pio Mascaro found out about the palazzo museum.”

  Rossi looked thoughtful for a moment. “The gentleman inquiring after our Ms. Casale, si?”

  “The same,” Rom replied.

  Rossi shook his head. “I am sorry, but I do not know.”

  “He called here looking for Jule. She told me as much.” After he’d had to pry it out of her.

  “He did, but following a discussion I had with Ms. Casale, I expressed my apologies to the man and told him I could not help him.” Rossi folded his hands on top of his desk. “I have not talked to him since.”

  Rom believed him.

  “However, I should advise you, Mr. Montgomery, that my office was burglarized two nights ago and my papers either destroyed or stolen.”

  Ah. They were getting somewhere now. “And what was taken?”

  Rossi unfolded his hands and crossed them over his chest, staring intently at Rom. “I don’t feel comfortable sharing that information with you.”

  “The background you’d been gathering on the museum group? The files meant for Jule?”

  Rossi blinked and Rom knew. Pio had been there. That was how he’d known.

  “Ms. Casale is in some kind of danger, si?” Rossi asked.

  “Of the stalking variety,” Rom told him.

  Stalking apparently translated just fine into Italian. Rossi got the picture.

  “Is there anything I can do to help? Ms. Casale’s reputation follows her. She is an asset to the art community,” he said by way of hurried explanation.

  Rom scowled. “Do you have duplicates of those files?”

  “I had them at home.” Rossi produced a manila folder and handed it to Rom. “You will be seeing Jule shortly, then?”

  Rom opened the folder and thumbed through the documents. An eight by ten of the altar caught his attention.

  “Yes. Ms. Casale,” Rom said, looking up from the picture to reaffirm Rossi’s social distance from Jule, “is staying with me.”

  “Ah. I see.”

  Rom snatched the picture out and laid it on top of Rossi’s desk. “What can you tell me about this altar?”

  “A common enough piece from the early Renaissance. Unfortunately, most of the panels have been lost through the centuries and the altar suffered damage as a result of the pilfering.”

  He looked up at Rom, understanding shining in his eyes. “You think this is the link you’ve been searching for?”

  Rom played it cool. “I don’t know. I’ll have to confer with Ms. Casale.”

  “But it’s promising, si?”

  Rom ignored the question. “Do you have any idea where the last three panels might be?” He pointed to the empty sockets where the final paintings in the series should be.

  “Um, no. That would be a question for the museum group,” Rossi said.

  “The group we can’t get in touch with?” Rom’s voice betrayed a slight edge of irritation.

  Rossi smiled like a preservationist with a secret. “Let me update you on the museum group. Much has changed since I started my investigation.”

  Rossi continued, “An unidentified investor has come forward to rescue the group from bankruptcy. Appearing from out of nowhere with much money. All outstanding liabilities have been accounted for, bills paid and a trust initiated.”

  Rom smelled a rat. “Who’s the backer?”

  “Unknown.” Rossi said shrugging.

  “I suppose the lights will be back on shortly?” Rom said.

  “Not necessarily. A source at the bank where the trust was set up said the investor wants to hold off on reopening.”

  “Is that unusual?”

  Rossi shook his head. “Not really. They could mean to acquire new art or change out old exhibits. Hire staff, etc. I just thought the both of you would want to know.”

  “Yes,” Rom said absently, trying to discern if the acquisition could somehow be the work of Pio. But to what end, Rom couldn’t guess.

  “Do you want me to make contact and continue my efforts to get you inside?”

  “Thank you, but no.”

  Rom stood, taking the picture from Rossi’s desk and stuffing it back in the folder.

  “We’ll be in touch.”

  “I’m sure,” Rossi smiled, as if to silently say, “you Americans.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The lights of the villa blazed cheerfully as Rom pulled up outside the house. The domesticity of the scene warmed his blood and the thought of Jule waiting for him inside squeezed his heart.

  A wife. A home.

  Wouldn’t it be nice?

  Yeah, if he didn’t outlive them to become a widower.

  Rom pushed the front door open expecting to see Jule curled up on the couch with a book or a drink. A reassuring image he’d thought of the entire way back from Verona.

  She wasn’t there.

  “Jule?” he called, stepping through the kitchen and into the hall heading to the back of the house.

  Silence.

  “Max?”

  Rom looked in every room before bolting for the back door.

  He closed it quietly behind him and stepped out into the night. Winter sounds greeted his ears and chilled his bones. Light reflected off Lake Garda in the distance.

  Where was she?

  He circled the villa, staying in the shadows, looking for any signs of entry
or struggle.

  Nothing. Just dormant winter grass and the sounds of rustling wind in the trees.

  As he rounded back to the front he saw Max sitting next to the car.

  Stepping away from the house, but still in full shadow, Rom felt a sharp point bite through the back of his coat.

  “What are you doing creeping around here?”

  Jule.

  Rom turned quickly, displacing the dagger from his back and nearly from her hand.

  “Jesus, Jule. Where were you? You scared the hell out of me.”

  “Max and I have been hearing some strange things today, so we’ve been patrolling.”

  Patrolling? He looked her over. Dressed in several layers of clothing, she’d topped it off with his discarded sweater from the chapel.

  Max appeared at his legs and sat next to Jule as if to take her side.

  He grabbed her and held her tight, letting the breath rush out of him while he soaked in her warmth. Then he pushed her out to arm’s length.

  “What kind of noises?”

  She wiped her nose with the dangling sleeve of his sweater. “Well, I don’t know. It was Max, actually, who’s been hearing things. We came out this afternoon and that’s when I saw something disappear into the trees. A deer, a bear, whatever. We’ve been walking around ever since.”

  “With this?” he lifted her hand to reveal Juliet’s dagger.

  “What else was there?” She stuck out her chin, daring him to say something.

  Rom lowered his mouth and kissed her jutting chin. “I’m proud of you is all,” he said, moving back enough to see her shining eyes.

  “For almost stabbing you?”

  “Yes.”

  She pushed away and signaled for Max to follow her. “Immortality has warped your brain,” she said heading for the house.

  Perhaps, but with her by his side, he was willing to live with it.

  Rom followed at a distance, intent on showing her how warped he actually was. And Max could just damn well stay outside.

  “What were you doing in the woods today?” Rom asked as they shed their coats at the front door and stepped into the kitchen.

  Jule walked over to the stovetop and picked up a spoon to stir a pot. “I didn’t say I was in the woods. I said Max and I saw something moving in the trees. I don’t know if it was man or beast, but we played it cautious anyway.”