Lupo (The Immortals Book 8)

by La Porta, Monica

  “I’ll go. Don’t worry.”

  Quintilius turned on his heels and found himself face to face with Vera.

  Lupo waved at her as he shut off his laptop, and grabbed his jacket and tie from the couch where he had left them that morning. “Before we go to dinner, I have to run an errand.”

  “That’s okay,” she said, blushing before Quintilius.

  “Are you two going out?” Quintilius asked, lingering by the door, when a moment before he had proclaimed he was in a hurry.

  “I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast and I’m starving. I can’t wait to go home for dinner, and Vera graciously accepted to keep me company.” Lupo closed his office and headed to the foyer with Quintilius and Vera in tow. He caught his father’s perplexed expression when he leaned to call the elevator to their floor. “I have already informed Camelia not to wait for me.”

  “Have you had time to look at those documents I sent you yesterday?” Quintilius placed himself against the elevator car’s side wall.

  Taking the opposite wall, Lupo answered, “I have made a few notes, but I didn’t see anything wrong with the proposal. I still think we need to expand our fleet if we want to conquer the Asian route.”

  They had been discussing the topic for the last two months, and Quintilius had hinted to Lupo that he would be the one directing the Far East market.

  Vera listened in silence, flattened against the back wall, effectively completing a triangle where everyone tried to keep as much space as possible from the other.

  “Okay. I’ll read your notes first thing in the morning.” Quintilius brought two fingers to his temple and saluted them before exiting the car. He was halfway across the ground floor foyer, when he pivoted on his heels. “Almost forgot. Ludwig has called a family meeting later tonight.” He looked from Vera to Lupo, then shrugged in apology.

  “It’s okay. I won’t be late.” Lupo waved him away with a smile, then commented to Vera, “My fathers are going crazy with the organization of their wedding.”

  “I can only imagine. Two men as important as they are must barely have time to breathe.” Vera walked out as Lupo held the big glass door for her.

  “They wanted to marry as soon as I got out of prison, but work has been keeping them busy.” Lupo steered her toward the corner where the dry cleaner was. “They have finally set a date for a fall wedding in Seattle, and I’m crossing my fingers everything goes as planned. They deserve it.”

  “You love your parents very much,” Vera said, her voice tinged with melancholy.

  Looking down at her, Lupo saw her eyes were bright. “I’d do anything for them.”

  One hand pressed against her chest, Vera was mangling the side of her dress with the other. “Likewise. My family is everything to me.”

  Lupo stopped before the dry cleaner. “Give me a moment.”

  She nodded, still deep in thought.

  He was in and out with Camelia’s clothes in a matter of minutes. “I’ll take them to the office.” He gave the cleaner’s transparent bag a shake, then pointed his chin at the eatery in the opposite corner. “Why don’t you wait for me at the rosticceria?”

  She followed his eyes, then nodded again, her shoulders down.

  “Ask for a corner table if possible,” he said before sprinting toward the office.

  Once inside the rotisserie, Lupo was pleased to see she had occupied the seat looking at the restaurant’s open-kitchen, so he could face the triple-paned window opening into the busy street.

  Lupo lowered himself to the rickety wooden chair. “What’s the daily special?”

  Vera pointed at a blackboard on an easel where a menu was scribbled in white chalk. “Rosemary chicken and artichoke penne.”

  A waiter navigated the small restaurant, slaloming between tables as he transported a tray with several plates of pasta.

  “The artichoke penne smells divine,” Lupo commented. “I’ll get a double portion of that.”

  “And I’ll get the chicken.”

  The waiter came to their table and wrote down their orders, then left and returned with a carafe of water, a basket with fresh baked bread, and a small bowl with extra virgin olive oil and balsamic vinegar.

  The hunger was gnawing at his stomach, and Lupo snatched a piece of bread as soon as the basket was set on the table. After eating a whole baguette, he remembered the condiments bowl and dipped in it half of a panini. “So, you were talking about your family earlier—” He let the sentence dangle in case she didn’t like to discuss the topic any further.

  “It’s just my little brother and I.” Her eyes lit bright. “I am from the Den of Rejects. But you already know that, right?” She broke a long breadstick in two and nibbled at the shorter piece.

  “Yes, I do. And one of my best friends is from the den.” Lupo had kept visiting Paride once a week. He never remained more than ten minutes at a time, because he didn’t want to cut Paride and Angel’s time short.

  “I know. Since you saved Paride, you are a hot topic around the den.” As soon as she said it, she bit her lip and lowered her eyes to her plate full of bread crumbs. Even with her face hidden, her blushing was revealed when the pink spread down to her décolleté. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you—” Her voice was but a whisper.

  “It’s common knowledge I was in prison. You don’t have to mince words with me about it.” When she didn’t raise her chin up, he leaned forward and reached his hand out to brush her forearm.

  A gasp escaped her mouth as her chest was pushed up and against the confines of the sundress.

  Lupo couldn’t help but appreciate her femininity. She was a fine she-wolf, and a sweet girl with lovely eyes and plump lips made for kissing. Everything he had sought in a woman not so long ago. “So, you were saying about your brother?”

  She recomposed herself, and the smile came back to her face. “Martino is a smart kid. He’ll go places one day. I’ll make sure of that.”

  “How old is he?”

  “He’s just turned fourteen.”

  The waiter came back with their orders, and they fell into an amiable silence for a spell, then Lupo asked, “What does he like to do for fun?”

  Vera finished a minuscule bite of her chicken, then cleaned her mouth with the napkin. “He’s always painting. As soon as he’s done with his chores, he starts drawing on one of his many sketchbooks. I swear we spend more money on art supplies than on food.”

  “They can be quite expensive, I heard.” He dunked a chunk of soft bread into the creamy artichoke sauce left from his pasta. The entire heaping plate had been gulped down in mere minutes. “My friend Raphael is an artist. He used to work the odd jobs to buy colors and canvases.” He made sign for the waiter to come to their table and asked for more bread.

  “I think I saw him once or twice. He’s good friends with Angel.” Vera played with her food, dragging her fork back and forth on the plate.

  Her continuous lapses into pensive sadness made it hard for Lupo to carry on the conversation, but he thought it was the polite thing to do when in the opposite gender’s company. Not that he knew what the policy was in these occasions, since his previous experiences with girls hadn’t involved dinners or lengthy chats.

  Before Jasmine, he had chased skirts and had a great deal of fun in the process. Even running from outraged brothers or horrified fiancés had been part of the thrill. Often, his dates ended with a fistfight.

  He gave Vera a good look, and realized he knew what to do in the bedroom, but he had no idea how to entertain a woman without bedding her.

  She might have sensed his uneasiness, because she gave him a smile. “I am a terrible dinner companion.”

  He chuckled. “Actually, I was thinking the same about myself.”

  “No, you’re fine. It’s me.” She sighed. “I have been preoccupied with something lately.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  His offer was welcomed by teary eyes, and he patted her hand, not
knowing what else to do.

  “I’m sorry. Usually, I’m not such a mess, I swear.” She blinked her tears away, removed her hand from under his, then used the napkin to dry her mascara-stained cheeks. “I must look horrible.”

  “You look fine to me.” He meant it, but a moment later he felt guilty. Damned purist curse.

  Vera’s eyes stared into his, and her desire for him was written all over her, from her body leaning toward him, to her scent. But underneath the sexual tension, Lupo sensed her fear and shame. Taken aback by the intensity of the last sentiments, he said, “I apologize if I offended you.” Then he thought she might have been already taken, and suddenly her erratic behavior made sense. “Will I be called out by your boyfriend? Because if that’s the case, let me tell you I’m quite the streetfighter,” he joked, and was relieved to see she smiled.

  “You didn’t offend me, and I’m single.” Again, some pink colored her cheeks, but she kept smiling.

  “Good. I’d hate having to break your beau’s nose.” He ate a morsel of bread.

  She laughed. “What makes you think my imaginary boyfriend wouldn’t be bigger and stronger than you?”

  Lupo raised an eyebrow. “Is he a bad boy too?”

  “The worst.” Her argentine laugh was pleasant, and several patrons turned to look at her.

  One of the men gave Lupo a knowing wink.

  “Send him over when you find him,” Lupo told her.

  The rest of the dinner was spent in pleasant chat, and several courses Lupo ate mostly by himself.

  When he left her at her car, she surprised him with, “We should do it again.”

  Mixed emotions waged war in his heart, but eventually he nodded and said, “Sure. Why not?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  By the end of the summer, life had taken on that certain monotony Lupo had been looking forward to for a while.

  He went to the office in the morning, began and finished a few online classes, intervened more and more in Quintilius’s meetings, and often had lunch or dinner with Vera. In his spare time, he either visited his friends, sparred at Alexander Drako’s gymnasium with Peter and Samuel, or trained by himself in the gym at Casolare del Lupo.

  Rinse and repeat.

  It wasn’t his idea of a perfect life, but it was a good one, and he had stopped dreaming of bright futures the day Jasmine had been taken away from him. Normality was all he asked for nowadays.

  “Are you happy?” his father asked, one morning at breakfast. Until a moment before, they had been talking about all the things left to do for the upcoming wedding.

  Somehow, Lupo had sensed the question coming. He looked up from the rim of a steaming cappuccino he had sweetened with several spoons of honey. “I am as happy as I’ll ever be.” He never lied to his parents.

  “I wish you had it all,” Ludwig said, exchanging a look with Quintilius.

  “Life doesn’t work that way.” Lupo smiled and took a bite from an almond croissant, hoping they would change topic.

  Camelia, observing from the other end of the table, came to his rescue. “Speaking of more pleasant things, how was your session with the tailor?” she asked Lupo, spreading butter on a sweet roll.

  “Mr. Carani is altering the jacket, again, and asked me to stop exercising or it will never fit. ‘Bulky and strapping isn’t fashionable anymore.’ His words.” The day before, Lupo had spent a long afternoon being lectured about his large frame by the thin immortal who worked for the paranormal Italian Rugby team. Everyone else’s wardrobe was done, but Lupo’s wedding suit was still a work in progress, because he had put some more muscles on him since the fittings had started. “He even suggested I eat less.”

  Ludwig snorted, and Quintilius said, “That man is hilarious.”

  “That’s exactly what I told him, but he didn’t think it was funny at all.” Lupo grabbed a quiche. “I won’t stop exercising and I won’t start dieting.” To make a point, he ate the one quiche, then three more, followed by half of a large rosemary focaccia he filled with several thick slices of prosciutto.

  “Mr. Carani will find a way to make it work. He always complains about my jackets as well. He likes to make a fuss, but in the end he always delivers. This time won’t be different.” Ludwig served himself the other half of the focaccia with hand-sliced mortadella.

  “Are you coming home for dinner tonight?” Camelia asked. Every morning, she enquired about everyone’s whereabouts to plan the evening meal.

  This time though, three sets of eyes stared at Lupo. He had been spending more time with Vera out of the office, and often went out to eat with her after hitting Drako’s gym. Once or twice, Vera had met him at the gym, and from there they would walk to a nearby restaurant.

  “I’ll dine out.” Lupo saw how the news pleased them, so he added, “I might be late, because we were thinking of going to see a movie afterwards.”

  He was asked which movie, he answered he hadn’t decided yet, then the conversation veered to the wedding again, but the atmosphere in the kitchen was much lighter. As if Lupo’s going out with a girl was a gift to his family.

  What he didn’t tell them was that Vera had invited him to her house at the den.

  Office hours passed slower than usual, or maybe it was the nervousness he experienced throughout the day that altered his sense of time. Vera had asked him a few days earlier if he wanted to go to her place, and he had said yes, but was having second thoughts.

  Vera walked past his office one million times, and he didn’t have the heart to invent an excuse to skip dinner.

  “Ready?” she asked when the office clock chimed six thirty pm.

  He had busied himself with every single unfinished task he could find, but time had run out for him. “I’ll follow you.”

  Vera’s disappointment showed in her downcast eyes. “I thought—”

  “It’s better this way. I hate riding in cars. I’m too big for most of them.” He grabbed his stuff and went straight to the foyer. He knew he was being an ass to Vera, yet he couldn’t help but feel as if he was betraying Jasmine. As usual, he wondered about the purist curse and if he should tell Vera about it.

  “Okay,” she said with that feminine intonation that meant nothing was really okay.

  Lupo did his best to ignore both Vera’s displeasure and his wolf’s anger at him. If he didn’t know what to do with himself when it came to the she-wolf, his wolf was adamant he kept on being celibate. Although the wolf seemed unreasonable, Lupo wondered if his animal was projecting his own feelings. Either way, if he didn’t relax he would never enjoy the night out.

  So, he smiled, let her in the elevator, walked her down to the garage, and to her car. “Wait for me here, I’ll go pick up my bike.”

  He followed her through Trastevere, and across Lungotevere Testaccio, until she turned into an alley and parked.

  “The closest entry to Promenade is around that building,” she explained when he dismounted his bike, and stored his helmet and keys in the storage compartment under his leather seat.

  They walked in silence for a few minutes, then she led him through an arch connecting two buildings, and stopped before a rusted, red metal door that opened behind a recess in the wall.

  She touched a plaque on the right of the doorframe, and the red surface vanished, replaced by a blackened wooden door. “This way,” she said, lowering the handle and revealing what lay behind.

  Despite his past, Lupo had never spent much time in the cavernous tunnels of Promenade, the enchanted world that existed under Rome.

  “This is one of the many forgotten entries to Metro, and the closest to the den.” She showed him the way around a narrow ledge suspended over abandoned tracks.

  “Good for us.” Lupo opened his senses to any danger skulking through the dark corridors running parallel to their walkaway.

  When Roman municipality commissioned the first subway line, they didn’t count on finding a few Roman villas as well. The Archeological Commission intervened
and ordered the area closed for an excavation that never happened. Promenade used the discarded parts of the Roman subway—the Metropolitana, known as Metro—and part of the ancient catacombs that extended for more than forty kilometers under the city. It was also part of Magik Nation’s territory, but warlords and witches lived like hermits and were rarely seen outside of their borders. Born out of desperation, when centuries ago the paranormal world had been threatened to extinction by the mortals, Promenade was now the safe place where the diurnal and nocturnal gathered to relax or party.

  “There.” Vera pointed at the end of the walkaway where a set of stairs led down to the lower level.

  The terrain was paved and well maintained, and the sound of nearby flowing water could be heard.

  “The River Styx is just around the corner,” Vera said, walking straight through what should have been a solid wall of rock.

  Lupo had always felt wary about magik. Although necessary to keep the random mortal from finding about the paranormal world, all the wards and spells guarding Promenade always unnerved him. With a loud sigh, he followed Vera through the enchanted wall and exited into a large boulevard.

  “They made a few changes around here since the last time I visited,” he said.

  The River Styx with its dark, slow-moving waters bordered the long, winding street that was busy with paranormals. Diurnals hopped from shops to cafes and elegant restaurants. Soon, the nocturnals would be out too. A safe haven for all the species under the Peace Pact Act, Promenade catered to every taste and pocket.

  “Is that a Coliseum?” Lupo asked, his eyes on what looked like the exact replica of the most famous Roman landmark.

  “You really haven’t been here in a long while.” She laughed, then added, “Yes, street fights were becoming quite the norm, and a few immortals decided to open a stadium where people could either be a fighter in a match or be a spectator. Lots of money to be made all around, between tickets and bets.”

  A cloud passed over their heads and the low rumble of a distant thunder echoed through the tunnel that formed the main part of Promenade.