The Rome Affair
Page 14
After the discussion the night before he’d expected some awkwardness with Kensington, but she hadn’t brought up the subject of his mother again and he was hopeful enough to think the subject might have been tabled.
They’d discussed it. He’d put up the neon don’t trespass sign. She’d backed off.
Done.
Even if he knew somewhere inside that a woman as bright and tenacious as Kensington Steele never left anything alone.
“I reviewed the schedule.” She waved her phone. “The best time we’ll have to get back into Pryce’s office is just before lunch.”
Case in point, Andrews.
“We can’t go back in there.”
“Then I’ll find a way in. I can still use the earring excuse from last night since I didn’t have to use it with Holden.”
“You can’t go back in there. We’ll have to find a different way in.”
“The earring’s a perfect choice. And I can use the way we got caught last night to play the embarrassment card if anyone shows up.” She pitched her voice to illustrate. “I’m so sorry for last night’s indiscreet behavior. I just wanted to sneak in and get my earring and sneak out, blah, blah, blah.”
“Blah, blah, blah?”
Her eyes were wide as she turned to him. “Well, yeah.”
“Does anything faze you?”
“The two of us getting shot at, for starters.”
He wondered if that had left as deep a mark as he suspected. Reaching for her hand, he grabbed it and squeezed. “You doing okay with it?”
“I’d feel a lot better if we knew what we were dealing with. Who sends a warning shot and runs away? It smacks of amateur hour and that has me even more concerned than some trained thug who might have tried to shoot us.”
He caressed her fingers once more before reaching for the gear shift and navigating them through the small dirt parking area. “Could just be a scare tactic. Or a warning that our motives aren’t quite as hidden as we think they are.”
“But why? The vineyard’s full of people. There are better ways to scare two people than to start firing a gun.”
“If it makes you feel any better, that’s my first order of business today. The waitstaff know more than they’re letting on.” He thought about some of the guilty body language when he’d interrupted the smoke break last night. “I think I can find a few weak links and press my point there.”
“You’re going to flash those bedroom eyes at the waitresses, aren’t you?”
“Whatever works.”
“Which is the exact reason I’m going to lead the ambassador down the mistress path.”
“Kensington—” He broke off when he saw the mulish expression settle over those gorgeous cheekbones.
“Yes?”
“Be careful.”
She laid a hand over his and he took the briefest moment of solace from being on the receiving end. “I will.”
* * *
Jack’s carefully laid plans for the morning were shot to pieces about three minutes after they’d walked into the château. Houseguests milled around, their polite smiles not really hiding the excesses of the evening before. Several members of the waitstaff were the recipients of tongue-lashings for perceived slow service and too-hot coffee.
But it was a particularly unpleasant moment between a contessa and one of the servers over a cappuccino that gave Jack his opportunity.
The young woman was struggling against tears and attempting to shake it off as she walked back to the kitchen with the oversize cup of coffee. Jack gave Kensington a swift nod, suggesting he’d handle it, before he followed.
The bustling kitchen offered little privacy but he ignored the other employees in favor of consoling the young woman. “Scusi?”
“Yes?” The softly accented English gave him hope he’d struck gold with a woman he could communicate with.
“I couldn’t help but notice what happened.” He took the mug of coffee out of her trembling hands. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” She swiped at a few tears before taking a hard sniff. “I need this job.”
“Of course.” He added a conspiratorial grin. “I need mine, too. But come on. Take a few minutes. Plenty of other people are waiting on that bitch hand and foot.”
At the tremulous smile and small nod, he gestured her toward the back patio the servants used for their break. Once they were settled on a small bench, Jack pressed his point. “I’m Jack.”
“Sophia.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“You’re here with the other woman. The one on security.”
He wasn’t surprised by Sophia’s notice—the servants missed nothing and anyone who thought they did was woefully misguided. He’d gotten more information over the years from those not in a position of power than from those who were. “I am.”
“Why are you out here with me?”
“You looked like you needed a friend.”
“I usually don’t cry over cappuccino. That woman was just—” Sophia broke off and looked around. “It doesn’t matter. She’s the ambassador’s guest so she can behave as she likes.”
“That’s debatable.” Jack waited a moment and gave the woman space to dry her tears. He considered how to ask her what else she might have seen when she offered up exactly what he was looking for.
“I saw what happened last night.”
“Where?”
“Outside. At you and your friend. We all heard the gunshot.”
“Do you know who it was?”
“No. I know it was a man but he didn’t look familiar. Some of the men mentioned going to look for him but in the end, no one went.”
He knew how hard it was to police one of your own. When you added on the rarefied air of “us” and “them” underpinning the ambassador’s house party, he understood why these people were reticent to get involved.
“If you see anything, would you tell me? I won’t let on you were my source, but I’d like to know what my friend and I are up against.”
“I will. This place.” She shook her head. “Something strange is going on here.”
“How do you mean?”
“I can’t explain it, but it hasn’t always been like this. The ambassador. He’s got...how do you say? Quick hands.” At what must have been a dark gaze from him, she quickly rushed to make her point. “Not dangerous. Flirty. But he’s not a bad man. But now? I don’t know how to explain it.”
“What changed?”
“I don’t know. All I do know is things are different here at Castello di Carte. I don’t think I will interview to work another function again after this weekend is over. There are other ways to make a living.”
“I’ll make sure you’re compensated for any information.”
She glanced around, her gaze furtive, before standing once more. “This is a good job. Used to be a good job. If you can bring that back, no payment is necessary.”
* * *
An unexpected rainstorm pulled the party fully inside for the afternoon and by four o’clock everyone had begun to climb the walls. With the action and movement of the night before, he and Kensington had been able to blend into the background, but the rainy weather stifled activity.
He and Kensington stayed on the periphery, moving back and forth between the kitchen and the main ballroom to keep some discernible distance from Pryce and his guests. Despite the constant movement, Pryce managed to corner him for an afternoon poker game and Jack knew he had to comply.
Several men were invited into a game, along with the crazy contessa from that morning, and everyone was quickly seated at one of three tables in the game room. Jack was curious to see how Holden also kept to the periphery of the room but reluctantly joined a table at Pryce’s insistence.
Although he’d never put much stock in the Hollywood version of poker games—too often there were stretches of boredom, followed by three quick hands—but he couldn’t deny what an excellent opportunity the game made to observe the other houseguests.
By his count, every man at the party was in the room, along with the contessa and a few other wives who wandered in and out during the course of the afternoon. By all accounts it would have been a perfect time to go raid Pryce’s study if it weren’t for the male-bonding ritual currently being played out over the baize.
“Aces over kings,” the dealer intoned as Jack pulled in his winnings under the glare of a Brit who’d clearly thought the pot was destined to be his.
A loud guffaw from the table next to him indicated Pryce hadn’t been nearly as lucky in his round and the man stood up, a good-natured smile on his face. Jack watched him from under hooded lids, curious to see how the man would handle not only losing, but losing in front of a room full of people.
Oddly enough, he appeared to take it in stride, slapping the winner on the back and excusing himself to the sideboard to open another couple of bottles.
“Andrews? You in?” Jack pulled his attention from his musings toward the Brit who was clearly aching to get his money back.
“Yep. I’m in.”
* * *
Kensington tried several avenues to get to Pryce’s study but every time she made a motion to head that way, something was going on out in the hallway blocking her passage. Several of the wine stewards were rushing back and forth with bottles from the cellar. When they weren’t around, the waitstaff was running heaping trays of food back and forth to the impromptu poker tournament in the game room.
Even the cleaning crew had been through, using the diverted attention of the majority of the party to get some additional dusting in.
With a sigh and the inner admonishment to get some freaking patience, she explored the other end of the hall, pleased to find a small, rather cozy library. A small table ran along the window and she crossed to it and watched the afternoon rain fall. Her earpiece echoed with the sounds of the game room and she heard Jack’s good-natured laugh when he won a hand.
“Miss Steele.”
Pryce’s voice washed over her and she forced on a smile before turning toward the older man. “Hello, Ambassador.”
“You look awfully lonely there, standing by the window.”
The light cough that echoed in her ear assured her Jack heard the exchange and she used the moment to give him a sense of her whereabouts, too. “Just admiring the view from this beautiful library.”
“Or pining.”
He raised his eyebrows on the last word and she briefly toyed with saying something about her trip to his office the night before, but then thought better of it. If Pryce wasn’t aware of her late-night visit with Jack, there was no need to offer up the information.
And if he did know, well, she’d bide her time and see how he played things.
“I’m not a woman who pines. It’s unbecoming and it causes wrinkles.”
His heavy bark of laughter warmed his face and something in the genuine smile she saw there ratcheted down her unease a few notches.
“I thought you were the instigator of the poker game, Ambassador. How is it you came to be in here?”
“I’m horrible at poker and was out of the game within the hour. Besides, even if I did have the skill, it doesn’t do for the host to win at his own game. It looks crass.” He gestured toward an elegant old backgammon set, laid out on top of the small table nearby. “Would you care to play?”
She’d played the game as a child with her father and had enjoyed the strategy of it but hadn’t played in years. “I’m afraid I’m a bit rusty.”
“A quick reminder’s all it takes. I find I’m not yet done with games for the day.”
She took the seat he’d pulled out for her, settling herself in the plush leather. “Thank you.”
One of the staff bustled in with tea and coffee service and she couldn’t stop the small smile or the murmured whisper as she stared up at the ambassador. “Somehow I think you knew I was in here.”
“I make it a point to see to all my guests, Kensington. Hospitality is essential in my line of work.”
She requested tea as it seemed fitting for the bleak day. She also sensed the warmth would go a long way toward assuaging the cold that had settled in her bones since someone fired a gun on her and Jack the night before.
Once the woman left the room, Hubert proceeded to give her a quick reminder of how to play the game and then they were off. Despite their innuendo-filled conversation the evening before, Hubert made for a surprisingly pleasant conversation partner. His knowledge of many things was broad and deep and he knew how to blend amusing anecdotes into his stories.
As they reset the board for a second game, Kensington decided to go for broke. “I hope you won’t think me too forward, but where was this version of you last evening?”
The heavy cough in her ear let her know what Jack thought of her direct strategy, but she was glad she’d asked the question.
And she was even more pleased she’d inquired when Hubert stopped juggling the dice, the clicking of the ivory going still in his hand. “Excuse me?”
“Forgive me.” She waved a hand, feigning embarrassment at the forward question. She knew she’d pushed too hard, but the open curiosity in his gaze confirmed it had been the right hunch.
“Nothing to forgive. Please go on.”
“It’s just that you were so serious and, to be honest, a bit creepy last night. Today you’re the consummate gentleman with a cache of very funny stories. What happened?”
“You’re a direct woman.”
One of her less desirable traits, Kensington well knew. “So I’ve been told.”
“You’re also rather like your father.”
Whatever she’d expected Hubert Pryce to say, a reference to her father wasn’t anywhere on her radar. “You knew my father?”
“I did.”
“When? How?”
“We had mutual friends at school and I worked with him on a few projects when I was in the early days of my career, managing a financial portfolio in New York.”
Kensington mentally flipped through all her notes on Pryce. She knew the man had lived in New York for a time, but she’d had no idea he’d had any interactions with her father. “When was that, sir?”
“About twenty years ago. I can still remember the picture of you he kept on his desk.” Hubert leaned forward, his eyes twinkling. “Which is probably why I had that conversational poker up my butt last night. As attractive as you are, I can’t help picturing you in that photo. Gangly arms and legs and pigtails.”
She knew that photo and still had it in one of the spare rooms in her apartment. She and Rowan were in shorts and T-shirts, their arms wrapped around each other as they ate ice cream cones at the Jersey shore. “The one with the ice cream?”
“The very same.”
“I had no idea you were acquainted with my family.”
“It was a peripheral acquaintance and I’m sorry I never got to know Charles better. His and your mother’s death was a tragic shame.”
A tight knot thickened her throat and she reached for her tea, determined to remove the well of tears before she embarrassed herself.
“There’s no shame in grief, Kensington. Never be afraid to hide honest emotion.”
“It’s been a long time but I can’t seem to stop the tears whe
n unexpected memories hit.”
“Time eases the pain, my dear. It doesn’t remove it.”
She ran a knuckle under her eyes, first one, then the other. “No. I suppose it doesn’t.”
“So.” Pryce gestured to the board for her to play. “Now that we’ve gotten out of the way that I knew you when you had skinned knees, I hope I won’t insult you by offering the assurance that my interest in getting to know you better isn’t tied to your considerable beauty. I’m intrigued by what you do. Even more intrigued by the connection that brought you here.”
“I was told that the Italian police briefed you and your staff on my presence.”
“They did. Of course, that was after they failed to tell me that one of my neighbors over the valley was murdered last week. Surely your presence here is tied to the same.”
The man’s gaze was sharp and it offered a strong reminder that he hadn’t reached his position by mincing words or backing down from a fight.
She weighed what to say versus what to omit and opted for a watered-down version of the truth, especially because it was evident Pryce was still unaware of the lone gunshot the night before. “The police are concerned, Ambassador.”
“Hubert. Really, haven’t we moved past the formalities?”
“Ambassador.” She stressed the title with a smile. “There is no overt threat against you, but they’d prefer not to take any chances, either.”
“I have security detail from Tierra Kimber.”
“Yes, but you’re on Italian soil. Officer Ferrero wants to make sure your time here is safe. Mr. Andrews and I are in a prime position to offer that. We know the requirements of your world and we know how to blend in.”
“Are you suggesting Officer Ferrero’s staff doesn’t have quite the same pedigree?”
She smiled at that, hoping like hell the explanation had satisfied him. “Exactly.”
“Nor, I suspect, are they in a big rush to disappear as the evening wears on.”
Although she loved hearing about her father, she also wasn’t naive enough not to know Pryce’s march down memory lane was a deliberate move to soften her up.