The Girl Who Knew Da Vinci: An Out of Time Thriller (Out of Time Thriller Series Book 1)

by Belle Ami

  When they finished their meal the sun was down, and Angela yawned.

  “I better get you to the hotel or I won’t be able to test my theory.”

  “Your theory?”

  “I’m dying to see what makes you moan more: clams and spaghetti or me.”

  First class travel wasn’t anything Angela was used to, but for Alex it seemed to be the norm. Their suite at the Hassler Hotel was so luxurious, so beautiful, she couldn’t stop herself from walking around admiring each room. Alex had booked the Medici Suite in honor of their search for the wedding portrait. The stunning views from the terrace overlooked the Spanish Steps and the heart of Rome. The opulent suite was a golden jewel box with red-suede upholstered furniture and bed. She felt like a kid in a candy store.

  Alex sat on the sofa waiting for her to stop her pacing. Finally, she plopped down next to him.

  “Do you always live like this?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “I don’t get how recovering art could be so lucrative.” She crossed her legs and settled back against the plush sofa. “It doesn’t seem possible.”

  He stood and poured two glasses of champagne from the bottle he’d ordered up to the room and handed her one. “I haven’t been entirely honest with you.” He raised his glass. “To us.”

  She clinked her glass lightly against his and took a sip. She couldn’t hide the worry in her voice. She couldn’t handle the thought of him lying to her. “You haven’t?”

  “No.”

  “Why? What are you hiding?” Was he going to confess to having used her to get to the painting? Was all of his interest in her based only on getting his hands on the da Vinci? A spasm of pain gripped her heart.

  He scrubbed the back of his neck. “The art recovery business is good, but my real money comes from a trust fund.”

  Angela tried to process what he was saying. He was avoiding looking at her. She didn’t know what to feel first, anger or hurt or both. “Why? Did you think I’d turn out to be a gold-digger? Were you afraid you couldn’t trust me? How wealthy are you?”

  “Have you ever heard of Crawford Oil?”

  “Vaguely. Do you want to elucidate?”

  “My mother is a Crawford and I’m the only heir. We have a rather strained relationship. She doesn’t acknowledge anything I’ve achieved on my own as important. The only thing that matters is my becoming the man she and my grandfather groomed to take over the helm of Crawford Oil. If my grandfather had his way my last name would be Crawford. I’ve been fighting what they believe is my preordained destiny for most of my life. I’m sorry, I should have told you right off.”

  She couldn’t breathe. Her hand flew to her chest. She stood and began to pace. She didn’t know what else to do. Her heart was breaking. “I trusted you with my life and you couldn’t trust me with your family history?” If she didn’t keep moving she was sure she’d explode.

  “I’ve spent my whole life avoiding entanglements. I learned early that, when it came to me, women were after my money and what they could game from me.”

  She flung her hands up in a dismissive gesture. “Well, you don’t have to worry about me. Once we’ve found the painting you can go back to your playboy ways. I want nothing from you.” Tears were streaming down her face now, but she didn’t care. He said he loves me, but he doesn’t know what that means. Love is about trust.

  He stood and grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to look into his eyes. “You don’t understand. I’ve kept this a secret from you because I was afraid of losing you, Angela, afraid you wouldn’t give us a chance. I keep telling you, I’ve never felt like this before, but it doesn’t seem to sink in.”

  She pulled away, breaking his hold, she was having trouble breathing between the lump in her throat and the tightness in her chest. “You certainly didn’t put much faith in me. And why should I believe you when you lied to me?” Her hands covered her mouth as she fought back a sob. She lowered her hands and took a deep breath. “Y-you didn’t tell me about our interactions in front of the Botticelli painting at the Getty when I was having a flashback. You didn’t tell me that Giuliano Medici spoke to you from the painting and told you who you were in a past life and who I was before I even fully knew.”

  “I explained to you why I waited to tell you. I just wanted to get you safely away from Scordato.”

  She shook her head, her vision blurred from tears.

  “I meant to tell you sooner about my background; to level with you, but with so much going on, I just didn’t want to add to everything.” He reached out for her but she stepped back.

  “That’s what you said before, Alex,” she was in full ugly cry now but she didn’t care. “T-hat y-you didn’t want to add to my burden, but maybe you’re not being entirely honest with yourself. M-maybe you’re not really ready for this… whatever this is?”

  He stepped closer to her, his eyes laced with anguish. This time she didn’t move back. He cupped her shoulders with his big, warm hands. She stiffened, wishing his touch didn’t awaken every nerve ending in her body. She wished she was better at resisting him.

  “I d-don’t think this can work, Alex,” she breathed, willing herself to stop crying. We’re too different.” Oh God, this is so hard. “I don’t know how to act on this stage you live on, but now I see I’m totally out of my league. You’re a master at deception.” She was sobbing now and she couldn’t stop, couldn’t say anything else. Could barely get a breath in because of the tears.

  He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in tight. “It’s you who’s out of my league, Angel,” he croaked in a broken whisper. “I don’t deserve you. I’ve always had everything I’ve ever wanted, or at least I thought I did. That all changed in a bar in L.A. I tried to fight falling for you because of the case, but the more we were together the more deeply I fell.” He leaned back, wiped her tears with gentle fingers. “I never expected to find anyone like you. Please forgive me. I want this, want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. I swear there’ll be no more secrets between us.”

  His striking, different-colored eyes swam with his own tears. The same eyes of Gerhard Jaeger, Sophia Caro’s lover. He was telling the truth. She felt it to the depths of her very being. Felt it flow back five hundred years, to Fioretta and Giuliano. Loving the same man through different lifetimes. She cupped his face in her hands. “Alex, I have to know that you believe I don’t care about the money. It doesn’t matter to me. What matters to me is us. Sharing our hearts, bodies, and souls. We can’t move forward until we promise no more secrets.”

  “Baby, please forgive me, no more secrets. I promise.”

  “Here we are in one of the most beautiful rooms in the world, in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. I’m with the only man in the world I’ve ever wanted to share myself with. Hold me, Alex. Make love to me.” She wanted to forget all the things that were against them. She wanted to lose herself in him.

  “You’ll never have to ask twice for that, Angela.” He took her hands and held them behind her back, his lips claiming hers.

  She told herself that everything would turn out fine. They could stop fate from repeating itself. They had to.

  Alex stepped onto the terrace and took in the breathtaking views. The sun rose over the Trinita dei Monte chuch towers, burnishing the city in a golden glow. He sipped an espresso and gazed at Janiculum Hill and the dome of St. Peter’s Cathedral.

  Returning to the room, he sat on the edge of the bed and watched Angela draw even breaths in her sleep. The scent of lovemaking clung to their skin and the sheets. Last night his need and passion had been desperate in its desire and divine in its fulfillment. He’d put his heart and soul into loving her and when her last sighs of contentment faded into silence, he’d wrapped himself around her and held her through the night.

  He’d never craved to just lie with a woman before,
never wanted to listen to her heart beat or hear her even breaths when she rested in his arms. He’d never delighted in the press of a woman’s skin on his, but with her he did. His was a simple need and she satisfied it just by being.

  He wanted to spend every minute with her. He woke her with a kiss. “Good morning, beautiful.”

  An impish gleam sparkled in her eyes as she stretched her limbs. “Mmm… Good morning, Stud.”

  He threw his head back and laughed. “Baby, I aim to please.”

  Giggling, she pulled him down beside her and snuggled into his embrace.

  He ran his fingers through her hair, loving the thick, dark waves. “How did you sleep?”

  “I slept well. No dreams or nightmares.”

  “That’s great, sweetheart. See, how good I am for you?”

  Resting her chin on his chest, she caressed his face. “You are good for me, Alex. Are we going on that walk you promised?”

  “We are. Unless, of course, you’d prefer staying in bed for another ride through Stud Town.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

  “Oh, no…” she said between fits of laughter. “This girl needs a little rest from your stud-like ways.”

  He chuckled. “Don’t think you’re going to dissuade me from my favorite task.”

  “Are you kidding? I would never think of depriving myself, you gorgeous hunk of man.”

  Exchanging teasing banter, they showered together, dressed, and grabbed some coffee and cornetti in the Palm Court restaurant, surrounded by ancient walls covered with ivy. An abundance of flowers perfumed the garden.

  Leaving the table, they walked toward the exit. Angela looked up, shielding her eyes and watched the platinum clouds float across the dappled blue sky. “It’s such a beautiful day for a walk.” She linked her arm through his. “How about telling me what our destination is.”

  “Come on, admit you like it when I surprise you.”

  “Mysterious as ever. What sign are you?”

  “Scorpio.”

  “Of course. No match for my Cancer sixth sense.”

  “Don’t know about that, but whatever you are you’ve gotten under my skin.”

  They took the Spanish steps, where already people had begun to congregate and sit. By the afternoon it would become difficult to navigate the steps because of all the tourists congregating, snapping pictures and shooting videos on the most famous stairway in the world.

  Holding hands, they strolled to the Piazza di Spagna and paused at the Baroque fountain created by Bernini. Alex read the reference plaque translating that the Fontana della Barcaccia, the Fountain of the Ugly Boat, was completed around 1629. “Recent history for a city that dates back to antiquity,” he joked. “The waters that feed this fountain come from a 19 BCE aqueduct built by the Romans called the Acqua Vergine. Now that’s what I call old.”

  They continued down the bustling Via Frattina where shops and restaurants were beginning to open, past the Basilica of Saint Lorenzo with its pale orange façade. When they got to the Napoleonic Museum, they turned right on the Lungotevere tor di Nona where they strolled along the Tiber River. The weather was warm and Angela removed her sweater and tied it around her waist.

  “Everywhere you look it almost feels like time has ceased to pass.”

  “That’s Rome. An old woman who refuses to die. She’s seen conquerors and civilizations come and go, yet she remains eternal.”

  “Hence the name, Eternal City.”

  “I forgot who it was that said, Rome will exist as long as the Coliseum does; when the Coliseum falls, so will Rome; when Rome falls, so will the world.”

  She smiled. “See, there you go surprising me again.”

  “Hey, I’m not all about fast cars.”

  They crossed the mossy green waters of the Tiber River at the Ponte Principe Amadeo Suavoia Aosta, and a short while later they arrived at the Passeggiata del Gianicolo. Alex followed behind her, enjoying the sway of her hips as she climbed the stairs to the top of the Janiculum Terrace. He thought about Angela’s description of Sophia and her resemblance to Sophia Loren. He remembered the priest in Montefioralle saying how much Angela looked like Sophia. He sighed and thanked fate for bringing them together in this lifetime.

  They circled the statue of General Giuseppe Garibaldi on horseback, the man acknowledged to be responsible for the unification of Italy. Holding hands, they strolled across the terrace to admire the view.

  Alex pointed. “From here you see the historical center of Rome. The Pantheon, the Altare alla Patria—a monument celebrating the unification of Italy—the Castel Sant’ Angelo, and St. Peter’s Basilica.”

  “Breathtaking, a patchwork of color.” Angela sighed.

  “I knew you’d like it.” He wrapped his arms around her and she leaned back against him. They stood in silence, taking in the rooftops and domes.

  “My life has been so topsy-turvy, so out of control. It’s nice to have just a few hours of living in the present without our past lives interfering.”

  “I want to make all your dreams come true.”

  “Just hold tight to me, Alex, and don’t let go.”

  Alberto Scordato tapped a number on his smartphone.

  Enrico answered on the first ring. “Ciao, come vanno le cose a Roma?”

  “Uneventful. Rome is Rome. I’ve been receiving regular updates thanks to our friend, Madame X.” Having a relative in the mafia certainly came in handy. Enrico’s mysterious hacker had kept close tabs on the duo. “The two are behaving like lovers on their honeymoon. What’s going on there?”

  “I’m getting things in order for our big party.”

  That meant Enrico was making arrangements for the unfortunate demise of Scordato’s German friend, Max Jaeger. Collateral damage. All for a good cause, though.

  Alberto couldn’t stop the rush of adrenaline that surged through his veins when he pictured the moment when he first would lay eyes on the elusive painting.

  Soon, he thought. Soon it will be mine.

  Chapter 17

  Rome, Italy

  August 13, 2018

  Their driver from the Hassler Hotel pushed the call button and the gates swung open to a contemporary villa in the XVth Municipality. Alex held tight to Angela’s hand as they walked up a flowered path to the front door. The three-story home was all white stucco and wood and opened to expansive views of the city skyline and the mountains that surround Rome. The gardens were filled with wildflowers and lavender that scented the air. Tall Cyprus trees lined the street. The house faced the city and, in the distance, they could see the towering cupola of St. Peter’s Cathedral.

  Alex eyed the modern structure. “This house must have cost Lucrezia and her husband a pretty penny. He’s a lawyer and she’s a psychologist. It probably accounts for them selling the vineyard. This looks like new construction.”

  “It’s a beautiful home, but I wouldn’t trade it for Casa del Sole.”

  He squeezed her hand. “Neither would I.”

  Alex rang the doorbell and a petite woman with dark, almond-shaped eyes and a wild mane of black curls answered the door, greeting them with a kiss on both cheeks. He calculated her to be in her early forties, but her olive skin made her appear younger. She was very pretty, but Alex didn’t see much of a resemblance to Angela, who, if they went by the priest at Santo Stefano, was a ringer for Sophia Caro.

  Fioretta’s daughter, Lucrezia Conti, greeted them, her eyes widening when they landed on Angela. “Excuse me for staring, but are we related? You look like my Nonna, Sophia Caro.”

  Angela hesitated, her face blanching, then shook her head.

  Alex stepped in smoothly, “Angela keeps getting that a lot here in Italy because of her dark hair and eyes.” He smiled and shrugged.

  Lucrezia smiled as well. “I suppose that must be it. My mother just finished lunch and is in h
er room. I have some errands to do so I must run, but Ana, my mother’s nurse will be in the next room should you need her. I’m going to be honest with you, my mother isn’t responsive. She rarely knows who I am. Sometimes she talks to herself or to my dad, who’s deceased, but she’s completely out of touch with reality.”

  “I’m sorry about your mother,” Alex said. “But I want you to know Casa del Sole is in good hands. I cherish it and plan on carrying on the tradition of wine making that your family started. You and your family will always be welcome there.”

  “That’s very kind of you, Alex. I’m glad to know the vineyard is in such caring hands. It was a very hard decision to give it up. We sold Casa del Sole when Mama got ill. She couldn’t maintain the vineyard anymore and we lived too far away to take care of her and the place. My husband’s law practice is here, our lives are here. It didn’t make sense. Unfortunately, Mama took a drastic turn for the worse when we moved her here.” Lucrezia ran her fingers through her hair. “My grandmother and mother loved Casa del Sole. They had a great affinity to the land, which I’m afraid I never shared. All I ever wanted to do was escape from that constrictive society and old-fashioned world. We all have to follow our own path, I suppose. It’s taken me two years to get over my guilt about selling the vineyard.”

  “We’ll do our best not to upset your mother,” Angela assured her.

  “Thank you. By the way, I forgot to ask, what are you trying to find out from Mama?”

  “Angela and I have heard some rumors that there’s a cave on the property that was once used to store wine. I’m interested in finding out if it really exists.”

  “Oh, that cave.” She waved her hand. “I’ve been hearing about it my whole life. My grandmother died with that secret. She never shared it with my mother or me. Frankly, I think it was a figment of her imagination. I loved my grandmother, but she was pazza, crazy as you say.” Lucrezia emphasized her point by twirling her index finger around her ear.